For a while, it had been as though I was on the edge of a precipice mentally. In spite of it all, I felt I had grown as a person, and now that I had Elodie, I was gaining a different perspective on life. It was so important to live for the moment, not to dwell in the past. It never did any good, wallowing over things that couldn’t be changed. Mrs Barley’s own existence had become so small, so aimless since the loss of Frank, as though a part of her had died with him. It obviously hadn’t been helped by the vicious gossip which, I’m ashamed to say, influenced me too. I realise now how irrational I had been, believing such superstitious rumours, allowing myself to be sucked in by the whispers that had circulated for so long. Any previous notions I’d had about curses and spells now seemed risible. My only defence is that I was hormonal, and Reggie’s death had affected me badly, too.

I wondered if the new people moving into Rose Cottage were looking for a rural haven, somewhere to flee their past. As had its former inhabitants. I understood only too well the Barleys’ need to escape, to attempt to start afresh. Maybe the old woman had recognised it in me; she had certainly been astute enough to know there was something that troubled me. Perhaps she really was a witch of sorts. In the nicest possible way. She certainly meant us no harm; I was sure of that, looking back. Now that I was less tired and more focused, I might even write about her, set the record straight. Her life could have been so much happier after Frank’s death if the villagers had given her the benefit of the doubt. There are two sides to every story and she had never had the opportunity to express hers. Maybe I could be the one to do it for her.

It had been my own dream to shake off the past when we moved from the city. To become Stina, the doting mother, the good wife, the accomplished writer. Maybe my own suspicions of others, particularly Mrs Barley, were rooted in the fact that I realised from personal experience no one could really be completely trusted. Everyone was trying to bury something, with varying degrees of fear of that something being unearthed.