A scream echoed through the bedroom.

I awoke. It was black-dark and cold. I begrudged getting up but I wanted to know what was going on. I opened the curtain to let in some light and moved over to Betty. Her face, in the shadows, did not appear calm. I shook her.

‘You screamed.’

‘I had a terrible dream.’

‘Tell me about the dream.’ I was sitting near her on her bed, which dipped with my weight.

‘It started with falling stars. It looked quite pretty. I saw you in my father’s garb preaching at the pulpit in the meeting house. You looked funny in his clothes, which were too big for you. Everybody stared at you.’

I started to laugh and Betty did too.

‘Tituba came into the meeting house dancing with John Indian clapping his hands to make a tune for her. Everyone’s eyes looked at them.’

‘Do you have musical dreams?’

Betty gave me that look of annoyance her father used.

‘We all moved outside and everything went grey. A giant eye hung in the sky like a moon. I saw a group of women who were weeping. They were a very light grey.’ Betty stopped.

‘And then?’

‘I don’t want to remember.’

‘And then?’

‘A black figure walked slowly towards them.

‘It wasn’t me, was it?’

‘No, it was Death.’ Betty stared into space.