‘Absolute rubbish,’ she said. ‘It’s just what I guessed. Gina hasn’t the gift, and this messing about with candles and bits of paper, and wishing and hoping, and cutting up and burning plants is of no use to anyone except someone foolish enough to believe in it, and they are deceiving themselves.’

‘So not magic at all.’

‘No, Nellie, love. Just nonsense. Oh, plants have a special place in healing and can be powerful, make no mistake, but only if you know what you’re doing. My mother passed to me the gift of healing with plants – tisanes and poultices, what’s good for easing childbirth and what for indigestion and a whole host of ailments besides – but it’s just an ancient form of medicine, widely used before folk had proper doctors to go to, and is to be used only for good. These instructions here – well, it’s nothing like that. It can’t possibly make a difference to anyone. It’s just foolishness.’

Ellen was nodding. ‘So Gina couldn’t just read the instructions and perform some kind of magic?’

‘No, love, of course not. That’s what I’m saying. It’d be like her trying to look into my crystal ball or do the palm reading: she doesn’t know how because she hasn’t the gift. I can only do that because I was fortunate enough to inherit the gift from my mother. It is never to be used for my own good, and always for the good of others. I like to cheer folk up a bit if I see summat nice is going to happen, and set them back on the right path if I think they’re going astray.’

‘Well, I’m just anxious that Gina’s been led astray by this nonsense.’ Ellen flapped her hand disdainfully towards the book on Betty’s lap.

‘Aye, love, I’m afraid that’s the danger. It’s what I saw at the fête last summer when I warned her off. It’s like I said, she can’t do the spells but she mebbe thinks she can. If owt happened, she might think she’d brought it about when it was allus going to happen and was nowt to do with her.’

‘I wish I knew which ones she had a go at and what she thought she’d get from them,’ said Ellen. ‘It might help us to see what Gina wants and mebbe even where she’s gone to get it, though I can’t help but think she’s just run away.’

‘I know, love, and I wish I could help you with that, but I can’t. I foresaw a journey for Gina but not where she would go. But I’ll call over and see Dora again this afternoon and take a little calming brew of freshly picked camomile to ease her anxiety before she goes to bed, if you like.’