‘Allie, stop. Jesus Christ.’ Rav pulls the black sack from my hands. ‘They’re not in there. The bag was full, so I took it to the outside bin and the bin men came this morning. The keys are long gone.’

‘Oh no.’ I slump back against the kitchen sink, suddenly aware of the tea leaves and tomato sauce staining my hands. ‘Rav, you don’t know what you’ve done.’

‘I’ve thrown out rubbish, Al, that’s what I’ve done!’ Rav briskly ties the top of the bin bag in a knot. ‘What the hell is all this about? Has that woman been filling your head with more crap about witches?’

‘No …’ I say, but Rav carries on, his voice raised.

‘Because if she has, I’m having words with her. I don’t need to come home to you rifling through the bin because some mad woman has told you some crazy story. I’ve got enough shit on my plate at work without this as well.’

Tears spring to my eyes and Rav’s face softens. ‘Al, what’s really going on here?’

‘It wasn’t Miranda. It was the old lady who lived here before, years ago. She … she said that it was a charm, to keep the children safe. I just wanted to put it back, that’s why I was looking for it.’

‘We don’t need a charm to keep the children safe, Allie.’ Rav pulls me towards him, seemingly not caring about the filth on my hands as he wraps me in a hug. ‘That’s what we’re here for.’

But you’re never here. I think the words, but don’t say them out loud. We stand that way for a few moments, Rav’s arms around me as I cross my wrists behind his back, careful not to get dirt on him. As he pulls back to drop a kiss on my forehead, the shadows in the hallway move, as if a figure has pulled back just out of sight.

Chapter Fifteen

‘He threw them away,’ I say, as my mother slips into the chair opposite mine. We are meeting at the village café, the morning after we met with Mrs Sparks. ‘Rav threw the charm away, Mum. He said they were rubbish, that we don’t need them.’

‘How do you feel about this?’ My mother toys with the sugar packet in her hands, turning it over and over, the thin paper wrapper crumpling.

‘I don’t know,’ I say. The waitress appears beside me and I pause to order. ‘A peppermint tea for me please, and …’ I look towards where my mother sits across from me. ‘… a black coffee?’

Mum nods and the waitress scribbles on her pad and whisks away with a smile.

‘A pot of cream,’ my mother calls after her. ‘Bring a small pot of cream too, please.’