No letter from Robert. That night in the parsonage we didn’t eat or drink. My uncle was in shock. He looked angry. Well, he had forced Tituba to confess and what did it get her? Prison. He was silent. Betty was inconsolable. I felt none of their emotions. It just made me think that humans were deceitful and loved power over other humans. I sat silent with only my thoughts as company.

The minute I had seen Mr Hawthorne, I knew he was trouble. How did he know about the meetings in the woods? Who had told him? One of the girls? One of the captains? One of the parents? My uncle? Who? I knew nothing now. I thought Tituba had a chance but with him but she didn’t. Now she was in prison.

But I knew Tituba, like me, had an inner toughness. Nothing worse would happen to her. It was no good telling Betty this as she was determined to be miserable with her nonstop crying. My uncle was trying to console her, stroking her head and clutching her in his arms. I went outside to talk with the chickens.

When I returned inside I had to face Betty’s anger. He eyes were flashing.

‘I know how you feel about Tituba. I know she was your second mother. But don’t blame me. Blame Mr Hawthorne. Blame Ann. Leave me alone.’

‘If anything happens to Tituba, I will hold you responsible.’

‘Nothing worse is going to happen to her.’

And I had to sleep in the same room as her. I had to be somewhere else. Another visit to Robert was necessary. I would have written him a letter there and then but I didn’t have his address yet. Thoughts of escaping anywhere filled my mind. If Tituba’s charm couldn’t sway Mr Hawthorne, whose could? Life was getting to be too uncomfortable in this village and accusations were beginning to fly about. Who knows who and when the next culprit would be named? This course of events may become so big that we girls may not be able to control it.

‘The fact is that Mr Hawthorne is a liar. Despite Tituba’s confession, Hawthorne found her guilty; he has betrayed her and his recommendation would travel to Boston. I don’t think this is fair.’

Betty was silent. It was no fun with Betty weeping all day and night over Tituba, who put up a woeful moan in the end.

‘I have confessed and still you find me guilty.’ Her damning voice rang and rang in my head. I’m sure it did in Betty’s head too. I could still see Betty and John Indian clinging to her as Captain Walcott came to take her to prison. My uncle and I stood back in disbelief as to what was happening. That question plagued me. Who had spluttered out the secret, of us meeting Tituba in the woods? Was it Ann or some other girl? Did someone spy on us? Who? Was it done deliberately or as idle chatter while taking cider in Ingersoll’s Inn? I had to find out.

Mr Hawthorne was not interested in justice or in helping us girls. He simply wanted a job done. I had felt the fear among the villagers. Nothing would be the same again. How must Betty be feeling? She wasn’t speaking to me.

Is anyone safe? What grave have we dug ourselves into? Thoughts of Robert rushed through my mind. Could he help us in our time of danger? He was rich and knew many important people. Surely he could do something; he would do it for me. I must see him, and soon. I wanted to flee this village.