Maybe she has a point. He won’t believe that Naomi has manipulated him – and me – if I tell him that straight out, he’ll just think I’m acting crazy again. Despite it all I love Rav, and if I can just show him that I am the Allie he knows, the Allie he met on the beach all those years ago, maybe I can fix this. I love my family. I don’t want to end up like my mother. ‘How do I do that? How do I show him that Naomi is wrong, that there’s nothing wrong with me?’

‘You need to show Rav that this was just a temporary thing, that you are all right now,’ she says. ‘You need to behave the way he would expect you to behave before. Sleep at night, don’t stay awake worrying about things. You need to do something that will reassure Rav that you are back to the old Allie again.’

I think for a moment, my mind a terrifying blank. All I can see is myself thrusting the poker into the chimney, the bones and debris all over the floor. Then it comes to me. ‘The mural,’ I say. ‘I was going to paint a mural on Mina’s wall before the baby was born but I just ran out of time. It’s the kind of thing I would have done, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with everything that has happened. If he sees me doing that, then maybe he’ll think it’s all OK. I haven’t mentioned the sounds from the chimney or the witch’s ladder for a while, even though I still hear it.’ And it’s been an effort not to involve him, the weight of it heavy on my shoulders.

‘This is perfect. Paint the mural.’ My mother gets to her feet. ‘You will be fine, ma chérie. You will figure this out, you must just go one day at a time.’ She lays a gentle kiss on my hair. ‘I will see you soon.’

After she leaves, I think about Naomi and the glistening pearl sitting at the base of her throat. Is she the one who did this? Did she leave the pearls in the house knowing the story of Agnes Gowdie?

Chapter Thirty-One

I feed the baby and lay him in the cot, then give Mina a sandwich and some more juice before I head upstairs to search out the paint that I bought months ago for the mural, my mother’s advice buzzing around in my head. Act normal. Don’t mention Agnes. Don’t give them any opportunity to say that you aren’t a fit mother.