I went to my father’s study and sat opposite him, something I had never done before. We faced each other.

‘Are you are going to sell Tituba and send her so far away?’

‘Circumstances dictate that.’

‘Are we starving yet? John Indian hunts for us. People bring us food.’

‘For how long?’

He is a man without faith. He is a pastor without faith in people. I studied my father’s face. I knew what he was thinking and he was right. He was thinking, looking at me, that he was losing me. I could guess what John Indian would think and we relied on him heavily. What had happened to my father? Where were his values? Was he thinking of me? I would have to do all the chores now, working into the evening in dim candlelight. I had never felt so alone. I got up and left in great consternation.