I don’t look back as I get into the car, fumbling for the ignition before driving the short distance to the local Co-op. As I park up, a gaggle of ghost hunters hurry past the car, clutching their cameras and phones to their chests, one of the girls giving a shrill, nervous laugh as they pass. They head along the High Street, past the pub and towards the outskirts of the woods and I wait until they have stepped into the darkness of the trees before I exit the car. Stepping inside the store, the lights are bright and I squint, half wishing I’d stayed home and faced Rav’s questions. I browse the aisles, not in any rush, tucking a packet of newborn nappies into my basket alongside a jar of fancy coffee. Neither Rav nor I drink it, but my mother practically lived on black coffee and her trusty cigarettes while I lived at home. Turning into the dairy aisle, I see Miranda standing in front of the yoghurts, holding a carton in one hand as she stares unblinking into the fridge. She is alone, no sign of the baby, and I quickly turn and move into the sweet aisle, not sure if I should approach her or not. Lurking over bars of Dairy Milk, I dither as she hovers in indecision, before snatching up another carton and heading to the till. Suddenly panicking that she’ll leave, I hurry past the chocolate, towards the bottles of fizzy drinks so I can catch her. As she stuffs her purchases into a compostable carrier bag, Miranda looks up and sees me.

‘Hi, Allie,’ she says quietly, and I nod in her direction. She takes her receipt and steps towards me. ‘No baby, eh? It feels odd, doesn’t it. Did you put some comfrey on that ankle?’ Her words tumble over one another as if she is racing to get them all out before I make an escape.

‘No, no baby. And no comfrey either. I don’t think I have it in my garden.’ I smile and move past her to the till.

‘There used to be,’ she says, her blue-streaked hair shining under the glare of the lights. ‘Maybe you could ask her, across the road.’ She nods in the direction of the automatic doors and I follow her gaze out across the street to the darkened windows of The Daisy Chain. ‘She could probably get you some.’

‘Maybe.’ Frowning I lay the basket on the self-scan machine and start swiping. ‘Speaking of the cottage, I was sort of hoping I might run into you this week. I wanted to talk to you about Elsie.’

‘Oh?’ A wary look flits across her features but she steps closer.

‘Did you speak to her yet?’

‘Yes, I saw her this morning, actually. We talked about her childhood, growing up in the cottage.’ Miranda looks away, shifting from one foot to the other.