‘Look, Al, even if there was someone in the woods – which there might have been, it’s possible – it doesn’t mean anything. You guys knew when you bought the house that potentially you would have ramblers and dog walkers crossing the bottom of your garden.’

‘Yes, I know. I guess I just thought because there hadn’t been anyone, that there wouldn’t be anyone.’

‘It’s natural for you to freak out a little bit. I mean, you’re at home on your own with a tiny baby, with no neighbours close by …’ Naomi breaks off, hastily grasping at her mug and taking a swallow of tea, as if she realizes that perhaps she isn’t helping. ‘But honestly, Al? I think Rav is right. It’s nothing for you to worry about.’

I nod as if in agreement, but I don’t mention the fact that I was sure the figure was standing watching me, before turning and rushing through the trees as soon as whoever it was realized that I had noticed them. ‘It just felt a bit weird, that’s all. Almost like it was moving too quickly.’ Scuttling. The word pings into my mind and I stuff another bite of tart into my mouth.

‘Maybe it was The Colonel or the Pluckley Witch.’ She rolls her eyes and waggles her fingers at me, making a ‘woooo’ sound, falling silent when I don’t laugh. ‘You know the stories, Al: the Colonel who hung himself from a tree and still wanders the village at night, the white lady who haunts the church, the highwayman who died in a sword fight at Fright’s Corner and re-enacts it – the village is full of them. It’s all a load of rubbish. I’m sure if The Colonel really did hang himself in the woods, he hasn’t stuck around to terrorize the people of Pluckley.’

‘I thought I heard scratching, coming from the chimney,’ I say with a forced laugh, trying not to let my apprehension show as Naomi places her mug back down and eyes me carefully.

‘Scratching?’

The baby unlatches with a pop and an audible sigh, and I hand him to Naomi while I sort out my top. ‘Like a scratching noise coming from the chimney. As if something is up there.’ Something insistent, is the word that comes to mind when I think of the repetitive scritching sound. ‘I know it’s probably nothing, but it shook me a little, coming so soon after I saw something in the trees.’

‘It’s probably a bird.’ Naomi leans down and sniffs the baby’s head. ‘God, Allie, he smells so lovely. I don’t know how you’re not sniffing him all day long.’