Still at the dining table, Walter took my hand.

‘We need to talk. Did you tell Betty to leave?’

I was silent.

Walter’s tone changed. ‘Since when have you taken it on yourself to make decisions without first discussing them with me?’

I stayed silent.

‘Betty is not leaving here at your whim, Abigail.’

At last, I found my voice. ‘You do not know what Betty asked me to do.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘So you and Betty have been talking behind my back.’

‘Abigail, in Virginia, we show the utmost courtesy to our guests and Betty is also your own blood cousin. I have watched you exhibit the greatest discourtesy to Betty. Please be reminded that graciousness is required by the lady of this house. Instead, you have been acting in childishness and showing your guest contempt. It is unheard of here.’

I bowed my head and studied my shoes. His voice clanged in my ears.

‘If it is the last thing I do, I will make a lady out of you, Abigail.’

I was smitten with anger. I began to tremble and it wasn’t with fear.

I raised my head high. ‘Betty can stay but she is not going to order me around.’

‘I couldn’t imagine Betty doing any such thing.’

We glared at each other.

I wanted to scream and scream and scream some more. It was physically painful keeping those screams within instead of them rushing out of my body through the house, down the stairs and invading every room of the house. Walter was falling for Betty. How long was he going to let her stay here? At breakfast, in the morn, I eyed Betty.

‘But you have to go back north because your father needs you, doesn’t he? He is ill, is he not?’

‘Yes, he does need me but I am not returning till I see Tituba again as I told you before. I still hope you will come with me. I will not, could not, force you.’

Was Betty scheming? My head fell into thought. I had thought I could manage Walter but it was a misconception. He was my moral rudder. I could lose everything I had built up. Betty would not stay forever. I may have to pretend to feel contrite, just to placate my husband so Betty could finally leave.

I strolled through the gardens, deep in thought. If Betty could scheme, so could I. Yes, I would put up a pretence of apologising. At least, that would get rid of Betty.

After dinner, I faced Walter with a heavy heart. Our eyes met.

‘Betty wants me to go to Tituba, the former slave of my uncle at Salem Village and apologise to her.’

‘Did you accuse her?’

‘I joined in with the other girls; yes, I did.’

‘Do you feel remorse?’

‘Yes I do, but I’m afraid of meeting her.’

‘But you will have Betty with you.’

‘Ye-yes.’

‘I think Betty is concerned for you. Tituba was like a mother to her, wasn’t she? Abigail, it is your choice; if for nothing else, I think you should do it for Betty.’

My spirits rose. Contriteness did not suit me. Betty. Betty. Betty. Damn her. My head rose. ‘I will do it and I will do it for Tituba.’

‘It is no use going unless you feel genuine remorse. This is not something to rush into. I’m sure Betty will not force you to do this.’

I was sick of hearing about Betty. At this moment, I truly hated her.

Three weeks passed. I lay awake at night looking at the ceiling. I could hear the murmur of songs from the slaves’ quarters. My mind was a muddle. Then the cock crowed. Yes, it was horrendous what had happened. Yes, I had joined in accusations. Did the magistrates have to believe us? They wanted to believe us. But, I remember the shock of the first hanging of Bridget Bishop. I remembered my stepbrother being tortured. My stomach sickened. That memory, that day, was a permanent scar on my mind. Things had grown out of hand. I didn’t want to be called names. My uncle had told me to leave. I had. I had fled whilst Betty stayed in Salem. I had pushed the horrors away from my mind. Now I had to pretend to face them. I had to appear contrite and ready to confront what I had done. Besides, why should Ann get all the glory for apologising? But this was not about Ann or Betty. It was about me.

I did want to see Tituba again but I harboured uneasiness in meeting her. I went back to my husband and told him of my decision. His face relaxed; he looked younger again. A smile began to play around his mouth. I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him fully on his lips. We lingered together.

Looking for Betty, I found her in the garden.

‘I will come with you to see Tituba. Will tomorrow suit you?’

‘Thank you. You are brave and Tituba will love to see you.’

I wasn’t brave. I was doing something I was forced to do to keep everything I had built up. I had no intention of losing it all. Further, I wanted Betty to leave. I no longer trusted her with my husband. With her gone, things would return to normal.

The next day we put the side-saddles on two horses.

‘I never thought I would see you on a horse,’ I grinned. ‘I never thought you would be like me and take a horse without permission.’ Betty led the way as I had not been in this direction before.

I had stood in front of many doors, often in fear when I was small, going from family to family. When I had stood in front of the pastor’s house I’d had a good feeling, especially when I’d set eyes on Betty. I remember standing, excited, in front of Robert’s house and his handsome door. I had stood in front of the splendid plantation house in wonder. But never had I been in so much consternation as when waiting for Tituba to open the door of this humble bungalow.

My body stiffened. I was trembling inside. How could I look her in the eye? I didn’t know what to expect. Would she hit me? Would she speak to me? What would I do if I were in her place? The door opened slowly. I saw Tituba, still erect and proud with her long neck and her black hair which nudged it. Tituba saw Betty first and her eyes glistened with joy. Then she saw me. Her eyes met mine and bore into me. There was no malice in her face but those eyes bore into my very soul. I knew what they said. ‘You who accused me are now at my door.’ My palms sweated. Then I heard her melodious voice.

‘My, Abigail, you are now a lady.’ After inviting us into her small abode, she left for the plantation house to bring special goodies for us. And what goodies!! There were lemon cakes and hot scones with jam and clotted cream. Tituba put the kettle on. Soon we were sipping tea and eating hot scones and lovely cakes like old friends.

‘My, Abigail, you are a real lady now.’

‘I have been lucky to marry a good man who has provided me with a nice home. I now have a baby boy.’

Tituba squealed with delight.

‘I am so glad you are now married and have a baby. How I would love to see it. You look such a lady now.’

‘Thank you. It is good to find you well too.’

‘I can’t believe that you are here.’

‘I have something to say to you which I must say.’ I shocked myself that once again I was on my knees to Tituba. My words tumbled over each other in haste.

‘Tituba, I’m sorry. Sorry. I apologise from the depth of my heart for the suffering I brought you.’

‘But you were not the only one. You were led astray. Besides I am alive. Apologise for those who were hanged, Abigail. Do you remember Rebecca Nurse?’

I shuddered.

‘I apologise to all those who died because of my accusations.’

I was still on my knees to Tituba. Again, in her humble abode. I could feel Betty kneeling beside me holding my hands. I felt Tituba kneeling with us and we all held hands and sobbed for those who had lost their lives and those who had suffered because of the accusations of girls, including me. Our heads moved down as we prayed together.