After three weeks of chores, it was time to meet Tituba again. Tituba, knowing my love of animals, had given me the task of feeding the chickens morning and night and collecting the eggs. It was fun at first, but then I became bored with it. I wanted excitement.

We all met at Tituba’s bungalow. Excited chatter ebbed to and fro. It was good to be part of a group. We left, with grins on our faces, for the wondrous woods, clutching our capes closely to us. We walked on the twisting footpath past Captain Brackett’s house, seeing the candlelight inside, squeezed past bushes and bracken, where our black skirts got caught, near the fort side of the river and then disappeared into the woods, which played on the girls’ imaginations. Stark skeletons of trees confronted us. Only the firs were fully clothed.

As the light dimmed, trees darkened and grotesque shapes formed. We could hear the woodpeckers, the night hawk shrieking and the softer whip-poor-wills. The woods, at dusk, brought wonder into several eyes and the smell of forest leaves entered our nostrils. Strange sounds were heard. It was only the wind in the leaves of maple trees. A branch creaked. The girls tittered in fear. But not me.

Finally Tituba led us to a clearing in the trees. Most of us had rugs or blankets, as the air was crisp as night approached.

‘Let’s build a fire. We need plenty of twigs,’ said Tituba.

The fire took a while to grow big. When it did, it flew up in fierce energy; we warmed our hands by it huddling together. Betty and I stood close to each other and held hands. We had never done this before but Betty said, ‘Something terrible is going to happen. It isn’t an Indian attack. Remember that Indian attack when a whole family was scalped?’

I nodded.

She shivered. ‘But it’s not that. Yet I see death for many.’

‘Just what are you talking about?’ I stared at her. I left to join the other girls. The fire burned brightly revealing a twisted trunk or a startled possum, its eyes wide with fright, at the intrusion of this bevy of girls. The scream of one girl echoed through the air.

The fire spat and crackled as it flickered, illuminating Tituba’s lovely face. When the fire ebbed, her face in the dusk took on a misty hue. She appeared mysterious and triumphant as the leader of us girls. She had never been so popular, so important.

I loved the atmosphere. We were defying adults by being here doing what was important to us. Almost in unison, we tore off our skullcaps and let our hair out loose, shaking our heads; we undid our laces slowly and took off our shoes and danced around the blaze holding hands. We didn’t notice how cold our feet were. We sang and laughed. It was a blissful haze. We were away from the meeting house, the pastor, the deacons and the captains with their male dominance and their male thinking. We were free of the men here although Captain Walcott was attractive. My mind went back into a blur. Only two faces came into precision, that of Tituba — and Betty, who had not joined in. Betty’s face was crumpled, with fear in her eyes. The rest of us we were in the moment of joy that Ann had started. But I had really started it first.

We needed this escape. I must admit I would have kept Tituba for myself. All the girls were agog with the moment. I watched as Ann showed the girls how to use the white of an egg suspended in a glass to form an impromptu crystal ball. Ann looked smug; I was stung. How I hated Ann for stealing Tituba from Betty and me and making these meetings public. The girls practised divining and other games before skulking back to their homes.

Tituba told us that we girls could only go to the woods once in a while. She suggested a meeting in five weeks’ time. I wondered if Betty was right and that our secret would be discovered by others in the village.

Tituba’s meetings with Betty and me stopped. Betty felt she had lost her closeness with Tituba and it hurt her. I laughed at my cousin’s face.

‘Cheer up,’ I said. I went to a corner of our room and pulled out a small case. Betty came over to look. I opened the case and pulled out a bundle of lace.

‘What have you got there?’ Betty asked.

I grinned. ‘I pinched it from my stepmother. Now don’t look like that. I worked hard yet she never gave me a present once and she had so much. Isn’t the lace beautiful? I am going to sew it around the collar of your dress.’

Betty took hold of the lace.

‘There’s a lot here. There’s enough to put on the cuffs of your dress.’ And so we spent the next hour sewing lace on each other’s dresses. Then we tried putting our dresses back on.

‘You look so pretty.’

‘You look really elegant, Abigail.’