It was glorious autumn. The trees were magnificent in their coloured hues.

‘I wasn’t expecting this visit. Betty comes every year to escape the northern winter. I expected her in early winter,’ I said to Walter, my husband.

‘She always left plumper, happier and healthier from here,’ he said.

‘She keeps me abreast with all that is happening in Salem Village, more than in her letters. In her last letter, she told me about the day of fasting for the 15th January to be held in all of Massachusetts, five years after the last one. “Its soul was churning,” she wrote. She always goes to see Tituba and I always go with her. Tituba wants to see my child.’

Before I knew Betty was coming early I took my child, now big enough to ride with me, to meet Tituba. Tituba was engulfed in joy to see my son. She sat him on her knee and bounced him gently. He fell for her as Betty had done decades ago.

‘My Abigail, you have a wonderful son. He is so sweet; he reminds me of Betty when she was young.’

‘Don’t tell him any stories of magic, Tituba,’ I laughed.

‘No, Abigail, but I can tell him about my homeland, Barbados, can’t I?’

I knew then that my boy would follow Tituba like Betty had. He was already running around Tituba’s bungalow smelling things and looking at everything that was different.

Betty came in early autumn. Why? I didn’t expect her till winter when she left in spring. I always looked forward to her visits, but coming when she did surprised me. Our black maid served us with fresh scones and tea in the parlour. We faced each other and I noticed how comely Betty looked.

‘It is a surprise you coming so early. I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘You didn’t receive my letter?’

‘Yes, but it only came two days ago.’

‘I had to steal what time I could; my father is not at all well. He has been drowning in problems and I fear it will get worse.’

‘What problems?’

‘I suppose you have to be in Salem to realise how big the problems are.’

I could see that she was withholding something. Then she changed the subject.

‘I have both sad and glad news for you.’

‘Keep the good news for last.’

‘My father is no longer pastor in Salem Village. He could see that the party against him was growing. He offered to leave as long as he was paid what he felt was owed him, 79 pounds, nine shillings and six pence. He received that and has left the village.’

‘Where are you living now? Did you move away with him? What is he doing now for a living?’

‘I am boarding with some friends. As for my father’s work, he is now a clerk in Sudbury in Middlesex County.’

‘Well, his new venture should not pose any new problems. Now what is the good news?’

‘I am to wed shortly.’ I took her in my arms. Betty blushed making her appear even more attractive.

‘That is wonderful news. I am so happy for you. Who is he? What is his name?’

‘Benjamin Barron,’ Betty said with pride. ‘My father has given us ten shillings to buy the rings.’

‘I will see that a new dress is made for you while you are here. It will be made from the finest cotton.’

‘I would prefer a dress I could wear on ordinary occasions.’

‘No, you must look your best for your special day. I insist.’

Betty just smiled.

Later that evening Betty told me what had transpired in Topsfield and Andover.

‘The so-called witches wanted their names, exposed to infamy and reproach, cleared. The Reverend Michael Wigglesworth has written a treatise called “Day of Doom”.’

‘Day of Doom?’ I repeated.

‘Yes, in that treatise, he argues that ministers had assumed the judgment of God.’

I nodded in silence. I was glad I was away from all that seriousness.