Little Annie Marsh was sick. Her mother, Ebba, arrived at my back door, looking pale and worried. She looked round to check no one could see her before she came inside.
‘I know Christy Kincaid got better because you helped him,’ she said. ‘Can you help my Annie?’
‘How long has she been ill?’
‘Since last night. It happened so fast.’ Ebba bit her lip. ‘I know that’s not good.’
‘Fever?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is she awake?’
‘Not really.’
I remembered what Davey had said about being careful not to give Gregor anything he could use against us, and feeling villainous, I shook my head. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘Please.’ Ebba’s eyes filled with tears. ‘She’s my only child. Please help her.’
My heart twisted. How could I be so selfish? I could help this little girl and there was me worrying about my own safety. I felt ashamed.
‘I can give you a remedy for her – the one that helped Christy.’
‘Would you?’ Ebba said.
Fortunately, I hadn’t hidden all my tinctures. I quickly made a small bottle with the same ingredients I’d given Christy – catnip and some thistle extract. I hoped it would do the trick.
‘You need to cover your mouth when you’re helping her,’ I told Ebba as I worked. ‘Give her clean blankets – do you have clean blankets?’
She shook her head, looking embarrassed, and I opened one of our cupboards and gave her some of mine. ‘Here. Burn the ones she’s been sleeping on. And the clothes she was wearing. You need to get rid of the sickness before it finds someone else.’
Ebba shifted uncomfortably and I understood. ‘Stay there,’ I said. I ran upstairs to the trunk in Alice’s room and found an old dress she had grown out of, and a clean nightgown. I gave them to Ebba too. ‘Alice is too big for these now,’ I said. ‘But they’ll be fine for Annie. Here’s the remedy. Drop it into her mouth as soon as you get home. Air the room if you can. Keep the door open, even if it’s cold.’
‘And this will help her?’ Ebba gripped the bottle tightly.
‘I can’t promise,’ I said. ‘It depends how deeply the sickness has taken. But we will pray that we’ve acted fast enough.’
Ebba took my hand. ‘I have no money,’ she said.
‘I don’t want anything.’
She looked relieved. ‘One day I will repay your kindness.’ She slipped out of the back door and vanished into the garden. It made me feel uneasy that people weren’t happy to be seen at my cottage anymore.
And yet, people still came to ask for help. Not long after Ebba had gone, I was called to assist a woman who was giving birth. I didn’t know her – she lived right at the edge of town – but her husband, a harried-looking fellow with bright orange hair and a kindly manner, said one of the fishermen he worked with had told him to call for me. It was a long and difficult birth – I felt awful for the poor mother who was exhausted – but eventually their baby boy arrived, hale and hearty with a shock of orange hair like his da.
‘You did this,’ the father said, his face etched with tiredness and shock, but happy too. He pushed a coin into my hand. ‘This is all I can afford.’
For a second, I thought about taking his money. After all, who knew what was going to happen and I had a strong sense I should be getting ready for harder times. But then I shook my head. ‘Keep it,’ I said. ‘Buy something for the bairn.’
The father looked over to where his wife was sleeping, her baby in her arms, and smiled at me. ‘You are a good woman.’
I nodded my thanks, and hoped others felt the same.
This time it was me who slunk out of a house. I liked this family with their bright hair and sweet manners and I didn’t want to bring trouble to their door. Was this what we had to do now? Sneak around like thieves in the night? I didn’t even know where Alice was. She was being so strange lately, and I wondered what she was up to.
Once I was on to the main street, I could relax a bit. There were enough people around that no one paid any mind to me. I pulled the hood of my cloak up and walked fast, hoping I would blend into the crowds. And it seemed to work, because no one looked at me twice.
But then I saw the minister. He was standing beside the gate to the kirk, waiting for someone, perhaps? But as I approached, I caught his eye and I saw terror grow on his face. He was scared of me, I realized with a mixture of amusement and concern. He really was frightened. He clutched his chest with his hand and turned on his heel to hurry back inside the church. I walked on by, trying not to think about what he must have heard about me to make him react in such a way.
I let myself into the cottage. ‘Alice?’ I called. Where was she? I didn’t like to think of her being out around town when people were being so odd. ‘Alice?’
‘She’s not here.’
I whipped round to see Alice’s awful friend Kyla standing in the middle of the room.
‘What are you doing here?’
She shrugged. ‘I came to see Alice.’
‘I don’t know where she is, so you can leave.’ I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘She won’t want to see you. She told me what you did with Lachlan Murdoch.’
‘Did she tell you what she did when she saw us?’ Kyla asked. Her expression was defiant.
‘There was nothing to tell.’
‘But things have got worse.’
‘What things?’ What was Kyla saying? All this talking in riddles and sneaking around was making me want to scream with frustration.
‘All the milk is sour. No matter which cow is milked, we cannot drink it.’
‘That’s nothing to do with Alice.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Kyla looked angry but there was something else in her eyes – fear? ‘The milk is sour and the chickens aren’t laying.’
‘Your cows must have a disease,’ I said bluntly. ‘I’ve seen it in our goats. I do not know about the chickens, but it’s unlikely it’s caused by anything my daughter has done.’
‘I saw it with my own eyes,’ Kyla said. ‘I saw the milk sour.’
‘Did you?’ I said calmly. ‘Or is that just what you thought you saw?’ I stood aside and opened the door. ‘Please leave.’
‘The other servants are blaming me,’ Kyla said in a hurry. ‘They are blaming me for everything. They say I am impure and immoral.’
I gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘They’re not wrong.’
But Kyla lurched forward and held on to my arms desperately. ‘It’s worse than it sounds.’
‘How can it be worse?’ I snorted.
‘Cook said it’s my actions that have caused the animals to sicken. She even said it was my fault that Isobel died because I brought evil into the house.’
‘That’s silly talk.’
‘I know that,’ Kyla wailed. ‘But I am frightened because she took her stupid, unproven worries to the minister.’
I thought about the minister’s face when I walked past and I went cold. ‘What have you done, Kyla?’
‘Nothing.’
I shook her hands off my arms and gripped her shoulders instead. ‘What have you done?’
‘The minister came to the big house and he said unless I told him who was really to blame, then he’d have to tell the laird it was my doing.’
‘And who did you tell him was at fault?’
Kyla didn’t answer, and full of rage I yanked her towards me. ‘Who did you blame?’
‘Alice,’ she whispered. ‘I told him it was Alice.’
I let go of her arms and she stumbled away from me.
‘You stupid, selfish, dangerous girl,’ I hissed.
‘It was Alice,’ she said, back to defiance again. ‘I saw what she did when Christy lived, and when the milk soured. She is the one who’s dangerous, not me. And I need her to lift whatever enchantment she’s cast.’
‘There are no enchantments,’ I said in despair. ‘Alice is just a girl, same as you, and Christy got better because I helped him. This is not her fault.’
‘If Alice can lift the charm, and the cows and chickens go back to normal, then no one will point any fingers anymore.’
I shook my head, feeling completely at a loss. ‘Kyla, she can’t lift the charm because there is no charm.’
Kyla stared at me sullenly. ‘The minister will tell the laird what Alice did,’ she said. ‘What you both did.’
I leaned against the wall, all fight gone. ‘The laird hates me.’
She shrugged. ‘Won’t make any difference then, will it?’
I pushed open the door and shoved her out onto the path. ‘Get out,’ I said. ‘You are not welcome here.’
‘Ma?’ Alice was hurrying along the street towards us. ‘Kyla? What’s this?’ She and Kyla stood facing each other, like cats about to fight. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I came to ask you to lift the enchantment,’ Kyla said.
Alice looked blank. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Kyla, you need to leave,’ I said.
Alice gave her former friend a look of such disgust that less defiant girls than Kyla would have withered. I felt a flicker of pride in my daughter, whose heart had been broken but who wasn’t hiding away or moping. She pushed past Kyla, but as she did, Kyla grabbed her arm and something fell from Alice’s cloak.
Quick as a flash, Kyla pounced on it and held it up to the light in triumph. ‘This is it,’ she sang, peering at it carefully and nodding. ‘This is the proof.’
Alice made to grab whatever Kyla held but Kyla darted out of reach and finally I saw what she had taken. It was a small bottle – one of mine, I assumed. But that proved nothing, surely? It was just a tincture.
Kyla held the little glass phial in her thumb and forefinger and thrust it in my face. ‘See?’ she said. And at last, with a sinking heart, I did see. It wasn’t a tincture. Inside the glass as it caught the light, I could see that it wasn’t liquid inside. It was a witch bottle. Silly, superstitious nonsense as far as I was concerned and not the sort of thing I’d ever been interested in doing. But it was – indeed – the evidence Kyla had been seeking that would stop any suspicion falling on her and instead point the finger directly at me and my daughter.
‘Give Alice the bottle,’ I said, trying to stay calm.
Kyla, playing like a fool, showed me her empty hands. ‘I don’t have it.’
‘It’s in your cloak,’ Alice said. Her voice was dull.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Kyla was crowing. I wanted to grab her by the scruff of her neck and shake her until the bottle fell out of her cloak, but I knew that wouldn’t help.
I snorted and without looking at Alice, I turned and walked inside the cottage. That then, was that.
I sat down at the table and put my head in my hands, not even looking up when I heard Alice sit down opposite me. What on earth were we going to do now?