‘Yes.’ Her cheeks flushing a startling pink, Miranda takes the book from me and points at the author’s name. ‘M. I. Richards. Miranda Isobel Richards. I wrote this book. Some people do believe in this stuff, actually.’ She puts the book back on the shelf, a tinge of hurt in her voice.

‘Wow. You wrote it.’ Shit. Talk about putting my foot in it. I take the book back, deciding that I will buy it, when a thought strikes me. ‘Miranda, if you wrote this, then you must be a bit of an expert on all this stuff, the stories and legends in Pluckley?’

‘Well, obviously. Yes. I grew up here, it’s part of my family history. I’m named for Isobel Gowdie, we’re descended from her on my grandmother’s side.’

‘Then I think … maybe you’re the person I need to speak to.’

‘What do you want to know?’ Miranda asks, before she says, ‘I was waiting for you to ask me, if I’m honest. I knew you would, I could feel it.’

‘Errm, well I suppose I wanted to ask you about what you said at the mother and baby group,’ I say, wrong-footed by her saying she could feel that I wanted to ask her. ‘You … you said I live in the witch house, and in this book, there is a mention of the Pluckley Witch. What I’m asking is …’ I break off and swallow, fear suddenly making my mouth dry, and I’m not sure I do want to know after all. ‘I guess I just want to know more about her. If she lived in my house then I almost feel as if …’

Miranda is nodding before I even finish speaking. ‘There’s a connection between you? I absolutely understand what you’re saying. People often say they can feel a connection between themselves and the spirit, especially when there’s something unfinished about it all.’

I wasn’t going to say that, I was going to say, I almost feel as if she is still there. Now I’m glad I didn’t. Part of me is starting to wish I hadn’t asked Miranda at all, but she carries on speaking, not picking up on my apprehension.

‘Agnes Gowdie – also known as the Pluckley Witch – fled Scotland when Isobel, her sister, was burnt at the stake, taking only two things with her. She arrived in Pluckley a short while later, and it wasn’t long before rumours started to fly. Her reputation for using herbs quickly became well known, and while Agnes used them as healing agents mostly, the village didn’t see it that way, especially after she delivered the landlady’s baby. Strange things started to happen, people began to fall ill, all after Agnes arrived here. People who had crossed her, called her names, accused her of things, a lot of them fell sick, and then of course, the other stuff started.’