‘Not really; just the odd thing that sounded like a word, but even then I haven’t got a clue what it was. That was the thing, it sounded sort of, well, foreign I s’pose. Not chanting like when someone’s praying or anything. It was a bit like, you know, when you see them horror films.’ He leaned forwards gleefully. ‘Hey, you don’t reckon she’s one of them devil worshippers, do you?’

I must have looked horrified, as he quickly back-tracked.

‘I’m only kidding. She’s probably talking to herself because she’s lonely … Can’t be much fun when you don’t see a soul from one day to the next. She don’t have any family, does she?’

‘Not that I know of, no. I’ve seen a man coming into the garden a couple of times now, though. We thought at first he was her gardener, but it wasn’t. We’ve mentioned it to her, but she was pretty dismissive, so it doesn’t sound as if he’s a relative.’

Seeing my worried face, he forced a grin. ‘Probably something and nothing.’

‘Hopefully not.’ My stomach began to churn. I was starting to think, more than ever, that it might be something to be very worried about. Now on top of the strange man in the garden and unexplained noises in the attic, there was a dead cat and a chanting neighbour to add into the mix. I went back indoors, my mind whirring. Sitting down at the table I frantically googled ‘spells and rituals’.

‘Incantations and fire can be used to bring harm or death to another,’ I read aloud. ‘Performing magic rituals requires the use of secret language sacred to the user.’

For God’s sake. What was I doing? This was ludicrous. Mrs Barley was no more a witch than I was, just a slightly eccentric, lonely old woman. I was so tired, and hormonal into the bargain; everything seemed suddenly magnified. Giving myself a mental shake, I put the laptop on standby and rose from the table. I knew I would feel more rational after a solid night’s sleep and would simply have to try to get through the day without having a meltdown. My mouth felt suddenly uncomfortably dry.

I cleared my throat and called out into the garden. ‘Would you like a cuppa?’

‘Thought you’d never ask!’