‘I know you did. Look, Al, I shouldn’t have texted, I should have rung you in the first place. Do you want to come to the shop for coffee? We can talk properly.’

‘I … can’t. I have to drop Mina off and then I have an appointment.’ I cross my fingers against the lie. I don’t want to see Naomi. I still feel odd, remembering the way they spoke about me, the way her hand rested on Rav’s shoulder. My mother’s words come back to me. Be careful who you trust.

‘I’ll just say it to you now, then,’ Naomi says. I hear a rush of air, as if she has just drawn in a deep breath. ‘Allie, I don’t know what is going on with you, but there is something that isn’t right. All I want to do is help you. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?’

‘Because I don’t need any help.’ My voice is sharp. ‘I’m fine. I don’t need you hovering around, poking your nose in all the time. I can manage on my own.’

‘But that’s just it, Allie, you’re not on your own. I don’t think you quite understand how Rav feels at the moment.’

The image of her and Rav in the pub, her face breaking into a smile as she laughs, Rav leaning in close and putting his arms around her swims in front of my eyes. Rav talking with her in our kitchen, the pair of them discussing my mental state. Keep the children safe. ‘And you do understand how Rav feels, I suppose? You know what Rav is feeling? Rav and I are fine.’ The lie slices across the top of my tongue, a physical pain.

‘You’re pushing him away, just like you are with me.’ Naomi lets out a bitter laugh. ‘I don’t think you understand quite what you have there, Al. Rav is a good man, a perfect husband, you have two beautiful children, a lovely house. I know this whole thing about Agnes Gowdie has got you unsettled, and I would be too, especially finding what you have, but, Al, it’s all superstition, a story.’

I don’t respond for a moment, biting my tongue against the sharp words that rise to my lips. ‘Naomi, a child died in my house. There is something in my house, I can feel it. I’ve tried to talk to you and Rav about it, but neither of you want to listen, you just make out that I’m mad. I’m going to get rid of the witch’s ladder, the bones, then everything will be fine.’

‘You’re getting obsessed with the house! We’re concerned about you. Rav is worried. We’re both worried that you’re not coping.’