‘We all are.’ Rav’s voice is quiet, his breath tickling my ear. ‘Come on, time for bed.’ I follow him on leaden feet, a dull ache in my twisted ankle. In the bedroom, I can barely lift my arms to pull off my T-shirt I am so exhausted, my limbs feeling languid and heavy, and it comes as a relief when my head finally hits the pillow, the cotton cool on my cheek. I don’t think about the vision, or Rav and Naomi, letting sleep pull me under.

Mummy! Mina’s voice is shrill, pitchy with fright and my eyes snap open. Mummy! I hear it again, and I am fully awake now, my feet already on the chilly floorboards, the duvet thrown to one side.

‘Mina, I’m coming.’ I can hear her crying, the sound growing fainter as if she is moving away from me. I pull on a jumper that hangs over a chair in the bedroom, not bothering with shoes as I hurry out onto the landing.

Mummy! Her voice floats up to me again, laced with panic, and I stumble towards the top of the stairs, a glimpse of white appearing in the landing window. I pause, my pulse crashing in my ears, my breath steaming in the icy chill of the hall. It is cold out here, abnormally so, and I shiver, my muscles tensing in reaction to the change in temperature, but I don’t move, frozen for what feels like hours but is probably barely seconds. Out in the garden, the shadowy branches of the trees at the edge of the woods reach out, long, bony fingers cutting into the glow cast by the moon overhead. A small figure, dark haired and wrapped in white fabric runs towards the trees, dangerously close to the edge of the pond, before disappearing behind the tall reeds that decorate the edge of the water.

‘Mina, no!’ My hand slaps against the icy glass of the windowpane, my eyes straining to see her, to see the white fabric of her nightdress as she runs, but there is nothing, just the branches swaying gently in the wind. Ignoring the dull ache in my still slightly swollen ankle, I hurry down the stairs in the dark, fumbling with the keys to the back door, Miranda’s words running on a loop in my brain. Legend says, Agnes still haunts her old home to this day. Finally, I manage to slot the key into the lock and, yanking the door open so hard it bounces back on its hinges, I run out into the garden. I am not Agnes. I will not lose my child.