‘Silly things, really. There was someone in the trees, or so I thought. Watching the house. Watching me.’ My thoughts go to the pearls that I have hidden upstairs in the drawer next to my bed, the jumble of keys and feathers that sit on the top of the dresser, tangled with receipts and spare change, hairbands and make-up bottles. ‘Noises coming from the chimney. Naomi said it was probably a bird, but how long can a bird live inside a chimney? I closed the bedroom window the other night but when I went upstairs it was open.’

‘You are tired, Allie. Exhausted even, from the baby. Does he sleep?’ My mother stands and moves to the open back door, the cigarette going to her mouth. She lights it, sending a stream of blue-grey smoke out into the garden.

‘He sleeps as much as your average newborn,’ I say, tightly. ‘You sound like Rav, he said exactly the same thing, that I must be imagining things.’

Mum tuts at the mention of Rav’s name. ‘I never said you were imagining things.’ Were comes out as wear.

‘Miranda – this woman I met at a baby group – she called this house the witch house.’ I have to pause for a moment, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘There’s this whole legend about a Pluckley witch who used to live here. And although I know it’s ridiculous, there is something about it all that is unsettling. A feeling, you know. There was someone in the trees, I saw them, I saw the path they made through the grass. And I found some keys, tied together with feathers in the floorboards.’

‘Keys?’ My mother frowns. ‘For the house?’

‘No, not for the house. That’s what is odd – the keys don’t fit the house and along with the feathers they’re tied to a stone,’ I say. ‘I showed them to Rav, and he said it’s probably just an old homemade keyring but there’s … something about them. I keep thinking about them. It’s just unnerved me, that’s all. And then all Miranda’s talk of witches …’

‘Witches.’ My mother lets out a snort, before drawing on her cigarette, ash floating to the floor.

‘I met Miranda in the bookshop earlier today, while I was looking for more information on the house. According to her, this cottage was home to a witch four hundred years ago and weird things have happened here according to the few stories I could find on the internet. People disappear, die, go bonkers. I don’t know. It’s all just … If I’d known then what I know now, maybe I wouldn’t have agreed to put an offer in on the house.’