I gazed at Abigail, stretched out on the bed on the master bedroom, as her chest heaved and her body shook. She brought her knees to her chest and started sobbing. All this anxiety over an arrogant, self-serving man, not unlike Abigail, although she did not have the trait of arrogance. I always thought of her as strong, but now she appeared very weak.

‘What ails you?’

‘Robert coming here has upset me.’ ‘But he has gone.’

‘But I don’t want him to go.’

‘I don’t believe this. Are you telling me that you still hanker after that man who is so sure of himself and bold?’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘I certainly do not. He is not a patch compared to your husband.’

‘I know my husband is good but Robert is exciting.’

‘There is nothing exciting about Robert. You felt excitement going to Boston to his house and escaping your village; he introduced to a different way of living. He introduced you to French. That is what you found exciting. Do not confuse that with Robert as a person.’

The heaving slowed down and stopped.

She had sat up in bed now, her eyes blotched with red. She looked positively ugly. If Robert could see her now, he would run off on his horse miles away. I smiled to myself and sat next to Abigail who threw her arms around my neck like a child, and said, ‘How right you are.’

Did I detect a note of sarcasm in her words?

‘You do have good sense. But it was a shock to see him.’

‘I can understand that. But it is all over now.’

‘Yes, it is now all over. I now have a new life.’

I could only hope that she meant that.

I waited till Abigail had recovered from the shock of seeing Robert again. I had waited patiently till my relationship with her was secure. In that time I had fattened a little and a new dress had been made for me after Abigail’s instructions to her slave girl, who said, ‘My, Miss Betty, you do look pretty now.’

Little did Abigail know that I had not come to Virginia to help her with her baby for I knew she would have the help of a black slave. No, I had come with a mission. She was unaware that I had queried from her own husband as to where Tituba was to be found and now I had that information. Well, what else could I do? His slaves would not have known and could I speak with them without his permission? She was innocent of the knowledge that when she had been having her rest I had taken a horse to see Tituba. It was a long ride. I had worn my new dress.

When Tituba opened the door to me, we threw our arms around each other. She took me to her own abode, bringing me a tray of tea and cakes from the house.

‘Miss Betty, I never thought I would see you again. How is it you are in Virginia?’

‘Abigail fled to here. She worked in a plantation house, first as a cook and then as a governess of the children. Now she is married and has a small baby. She invited me down. But I came here, Tituba, to find you.’

Tituba had aged a little but she was still handsome. She had been through a lot.

‘Betty, dear Betty, it makes my heart glad to see you.’

‘It makes my heart glad to see you.’

We hugged each other again.

‘My, Betty, you are a woman now.’

‘Do they treat you well here?’

‘Yes, they treat me as well as your father did in Barbados. But I am all alone. I miss John. I am lonely for him.’

‘It must have been terrible for you to be in jail so long with poor food.’

‘Others suffered more. Your father got me out of prison before winter and paid my bond of 500 pound. I was grateful.’

I didn’t tell Tituba that my father had sold her to her present master for more than twice that. I didn’t tell her that I had to do Tituba’s share of the work as well as Abigail’s and my own. That is why my visit here had to be short. But I told her I had to get back to my father who was now ailing. I would not go back before I brought Abigail to face Tituba to apologise to her.

‘Ann has publicly apologised.’

‘God bless her.’

‘I want to bring Abigail to see you.’

‘Will she be able to come seeing she has a baby?’

‘Yes, there is always someone else to look after the baby for a short while.’

‘I would love to see Abigail.’

Dear Tituba. Her heart was so big; it had no room for revenge.

‘I will bring Abigail to you. I can’t stay in Virginia for very long. The pastor is unwell a little. But I will come to see you before I leave.’

‘Before you leave, Betty, I will make you pies to take back for the pastor and you.’

‘Thank you. I so miss your cooking. I so miss you. If I marry, would you come back north to live with me?’

‘Yes, I would and I would have John Indian again.’

We hugged again.

I left her and rode back to Abigail’s home.

The evening was a delight. The air was cool and fragrant. Abigail and I sat outside on chairs, her husband in his study. I broached the subject.

‘Whilst here, I found out where Tituba is placed and I went to see her.’

‘When was this?’

‘Yesterday.’

Abigail looked a little startled.

‘How did you find out where Tituba was?’

‘I asked your husband.’

‘You did what? You went behind my back to speak to my husband. How dare you.’

‘Who else could I ask?’

‘You could have asked me first.’

‘Your husband is head of the household.’

I saw Abigail wince.

An uneasy silence prevailed.

‘How is Tituba?’ she said sharply.

‘She has aged which is not surprising after all she went through. But her master treats her well enough. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that Ann made a public apology.’

I saw Abigail’s eyes narrow at the name of Ann.

‘Of course, she read out a prepared speech,’ said Abigail with a snarl.

‘Well, she did prepare it herself. It was heartfelt. The Reverend Robert Green read it out.’

‘Ann always had a way with words, didn’t she? She took her time to make the apology, didn’t she?’

‘Ann begged for forgiveness and claimed she was a chief instrument in bringing suffering to many. Apology is necessary, isn’t it?’

Abigail just looked at me. It was not a look of love or shame or pity. Had I failed in my mission? ‘I didn’t tell you in my letter to you that the families who lost family members are now suing. Of course, the children of Reverend George Burroughs are making sure that his wife gets nothing as she deserted them when she sold Burroughs house and fled with her own daughter.’

‘I should think not,’ said Abigail.

‘There is a lot of healing to be done. I think you should see Tituba.’

‘How dare you! Do you think you can come as a guest and order me around?’

Abigail was now enraged. She was seething with anger.

‘It will help you to heal. And you don’t have to do it in public.’

Abigail’s eyes flashed in ire.

‘Good night. This conversation is over.’

It was her decision but her soul was at stake.

Abigail avoided me for days after this conversation. The atmosphere was thick with enmity. Walter looked mournful but still treated me with the utmost courtesy. She forbade me to play with her baby boy. I began to feel very uncomfortable. Even Salem would be better than this.