And I had to turn away to hide my mounting dismay. How could a child of nine be involved in pursuits that linked him to witchcraft? ‘But he was so young. Is this proved?’

Her eyes grew hard. ‘Don’t you think that I, of anyone on the island, would question the veracity of this? Of course I questioned it. I’m an educated woman, not one of the hysterical servant class. I do not believe in witchcraft, naturally, but there are a few here who sadly still cling to very old beliefs in spite of the church.’

I felt chastised. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I am so shocked.’

‘The proof was witnessed by those I trust.’

‘What proof?’ I hardly dared hear the answer.

‘There were animals found within the Fiaclach – gulls, mice, hare, that kind of thing – they were all slain and laid on the altar stone. They had not been killed easily.’ She could hardly look at me. ‘It was William who tortured them.’

I felt a punch of horror.

‘And Mary?’ My heart flicked uneasily.

‘Not Mary. There were no rumours of her and she showed no sign that she was the same.’ Her tone was measured, but in her face there was some doubt.

I realized then that I could not imagine Mary capable of such acts. Only a few days ago we had caught fish in our nets and I had watched how tenderly, how carefully, she placed them in our pail and later, how gently she released them. And the pebbles, I reasoned: if they were sinister they must have been William’s and she played with them without knowledge of their implications.

‘But where would he have learned such a thing?’ I asked.

Her eyes slipped to the window as if she hoped for some intervention.

‘I am sorry to say that it was Hettie who led him astray.’

The shock left me winded. ‘What do you mean?’

Her gaze was unsteady. ‘In those last months, Hettie was believed to be a witch.’

Hettie. And once again I was in Hettie’s room with the unsettling sense of her presence, of being watched. The pebble on her dressing table.

‘She too was seen at the Fiaclach,’ she continued. ‘She was seen there with William.’

I wanted to stand to catch my breath, pace the room, to walk out into the fresh island air and cleanse myself.

I hardly dared ask. ‘And before that – when your sister was alive. Were there rumours then?’

‘I heard nothing before Evangeline died, but I did not see the children much.’

I looked at her questioningly.

‘Unfortunately, we were not close.’

‘That is sad.’ I wanted to ask how such a thing came into being. For a moment I felt the sweet weight of Clara’s head on my shoulder as we lay in bed, whispering about the day or our plans for the morrow.