‘I’m not hungry,’ she whines, and slides off the chair, heading back towards the sofa. By the time I clean up and follow her, she is asleep again, tucked into the armchair this time and I feel a faint prickling of worry. She’s just off colour, I tell myself. All kids get a bit under the weather sometimes. I resist the urge to call Naomi and ask her what she thinks, still feeling uneasy about the text from her that I saw on Rav’s phone, and instead I close my eyes and decide to do what they all keep telling me to – I try to sleep.

Scratch. Scratch. The noise from the chimney wakes me from the light, troubled doze I have allowed myself to fall into. I open my eyes without moving from where my head rests on the cushioned arm of the sofa, and stare up at the cracked, yellowing ceiling as the noise comes again, seeming louder this time. Turning my head, I see Mina is awake, but her eyes look too bright and her cheeks are flushed a deeper pink. The scratching comes again but Mina makes no sign that she has heard it.

‘Min?’ I whisper and she turns to look at me. ‘Are you feeling poorly?’

‘I don’t feel well, Mama,’ she says, before sliding from the armchair and coming to me, climbing up to lie on my chest. She is hot, too hot, her skin dry and burning.

‘Oh, darling.’ Holding her close I struggle to sit up, trying to ignore the insistent scratching from the chimney, a shard of guilt slicing through me. Did I cause this by keeping her home and saying she was unwell, when just this morning she was fine? Did I call some higher power into play when the lie tripped off my tongue? Witchcraft. Strange things have happened around Gowdie Cottage ever since. I shake the thought away, chiding myself for being ridiculous. ‘Let me get you some medicine.’ Laying her down, I get to my feet, noticing as I do that the sun is lower in the sky than I was expecting, the puddle of sunlight that was in the middle of the room when I sat down earlier has now almost disappeared, just pale fingers reaching the edge of the windowsill.

In the kitchen, I rummage in the cupboard searching for the infant paracetamol, but to no avail. The bottle we have doesn’t even contain enough for one dose, and I am pretty sure Mina has a temperature, probably an ear infection the way she tugged on her earlobe as she climbed onto my lap. Picking up my phone to call Rav, I see the last text message he sent still sitting unread. I swipe to open the screen, revealing the message.

Just checking in, haven’t heard from you all day. I’ll probably be late again tonight. Don’t wait up.

x