Naomi is shaking her head, her hair falling over her face so I can’t see her expression. ‘No, Allie. It’s just a dream. You’re not an awful person, you’re not the kind of person to do awful things. Look at you, you uprooted your whole life to follow Rav to Pluckley, you gave up your life in London, even though you loved it because you love Rav more. Those aren’t the actions of a horrid person. Those are the actions of a selfless person, a kind, decent person.’

I think of the way the stairs creaked beneath my feet, the way I had peered into the darkened room to see Mina and Leo asleep, and I shiver, rubbing my hands over my arms.

‘Al, I think you’ve freaked yourself out over nothing.’ Naomi stands next to me now, taking my hands in hers. Her palms are cool against my clammy fingers. ‘Look at what you’ve got – two lovely kids, a nice house, an amazing husband. Stop focusing on the bad stuff and appreciate what good you have in your life. Come and sit back down; you’re going to make that ankle even worse.’ I let her guide me back to the sofa, sinking slowly back down onto the cushions. ‘Drink this, you haven’t even touched your tea.’ She hands me the lukewarm cup and I take a sip, grimacing as the cool liquid hits my lips.

‘Honestly, Allie, I think you’re more likely to be living in a haunted cottage, haunted by witches no less, than you are to have done something so dreadful that you can’t sleep over it.’ Naomi grins, and I utter a small laugh.

‘Maybe. Maybe Miranda was right after all.’

Naomi laughs, her face lighting up, illuminating her flawless skin and perfect make-up. I feel shabby again, fat and frumpy, and adjust my T-shirt to cover my still lumpy belly. ‘I’d take a haunted house over my cramped, empty flat any day of the week. Why don’t you let me look after the kids for a day?’ Naomi says, the smile fading from her face. ‘There’s no shame in asking for some help if you need it, Al. I’m your best friend, you should ask me if you can’t cope.’

‘I can cope.’ The image of her name in Rav’s phone swims in front of my eyes, my gut twisting with the sense of betrayal. ‘I can cope fine. I just let Miranda’s superstition get to me. You’re right. Rav is right.’ I watch her face for clues, to see if guilt crosses her face but there is nothing.

‘How is Rav?’

‘Fine,’ I say shortly, not wanting to talk about him, even though I am the one who brought him up. ‘Working hard.’