The blanket. Tara is in possession of the blue blanket – something I thought was a coincidence originally, until I saw the same unravelled piece of satin. How does she have the exact blanket I have been dreaming about? And why did she leave it at my house? I still don’t know if that was an accident, a simple case of the blanket sliding off the changing table and she had forgotten it in the rush to get Rufus home, or something else. She brought up the topic of post-partum depression, practically asked me if I thought I had it. She possibly lied to me about believing in witchcraft. Whoever left those bones tied to the tree, whoever pushed the witch’s ladder into the chimney believes in that kind of thing. And she knows Naomi, who also thinks that something is wrong with me.

This is the part of it all that I can’t seem to make sense of. Naomi is my friend, and until I saw her sitting with Rav in the pub, with her knee pressed against his, I would have trusted her with my life. We’ve been friends for years, since before I met Rav, before I finished my floristry course. We’ve been through so much together. We’ve spent birthdays and Christmases together, been on holiday together, been through break-ups and weddings together. The vision of Naomi looming over me as I half doze, scissors in her hand, appears again and I shake it off. That didn’t happen, there is no way Naomi would entertain the idea of witchcraft, she’s far too sensible. Isn’t she? Maybe she didn’t even realize the significance of the sage, the seated circle. Naomi loves me, Rav, she loves the children. The children even more so, given that she can’t have any of her own.

My steps slow as I approach the car park to the preschool and I battle tears, blinking hard and taking deep breaths. I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe Rav and Naomi are right, and there is something the matter with me, I am going crazy. Maybe it’s just nothing, and I am being a drama queen. But then I think of the twined hair, the feeling of foreboding that I had when I first held it, the way the air had changed around me. I think of Rav lying directly to my face about where he had been the night that I saw him and Naomi in the pub, her name on his phone when she told me she hadn’t spoken to him. No, I think, someone is out there, and all of this is connected, somehow. As I reach the steps to the preschool the door swings open and Naomi steps out, holding Mina by the hand.

‘Mummy!’ Mina rushes forward, flinging her tiny arms around my waist. ‘You are so late.’