I had made a terrible mistake with the witch bottles, I could see that now. The ones I’d made and hidden in my window frame hadn’t worked, and the third one – one I’d made after the incident with the milk and had intended to hide in our fireplace – had made things worse. And now Kyla had it and would no doubt use it against me and Ma. I knew the Kincaids were looking for any chance they had to discredit my mother. Gregor wanted to dredge the harbour and allow bigger ships in, and the way he saw it, my mother was the one standing in his way. I knew that wasn’t true, of course. But the men in the town would support Ma as long as she was there, and then switch allegiance at the drop of a hat if it served them well to do so. I knew that. I couldn’t even blame them for it.
But add Gregor’s dislike of Ma to his grief for his wife and these whispers of witchcraft, and there was an easy way for him to get rid of Ma and get what he wanted.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Ma. She was still sitting at the table with her head in her hands. ‘I didn’t mean …’
Ma looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘I know,’ she said. She put her hand out to me and I went to her and crouched down next to her. ‘I know.’
‘What can I do, to make it right?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘No.’ I was firm. ‘The Kincaids are bullies and they do not like that you are a burgess with your own money.’
‘Just Gregor,’ Ma said. ‘Not all of the Kincaids.’
I thought she was being blind to Davey’s true nature because of his handsome face and broad chest, but I didn’t say so. Instead I just took her hands. ‘Ma, you can’t just let this happen.’
Ma reached out and cupped my face. ‘I have lived through many winters,’ she said. She sounded as though she wasn’t really speaking to me. ‘I’ve seen this many times. These whispers and rumours can die away, or they can take on a life of their own, twisting and turning through the town. We need to see which this will be.’
‘If it dies?’
‘Then we can carry on with our lives here.’
I was almost afraid to ask. ‘And if it doesn’t?’
Ma swallowed. ‘We should be ready to go.’
‘Go where?’
She shrugged. ‘North? It is safer in the Highlands.’
‘What about the cottage? And the cats?’
‘We can find a new cottage, and new cats.’
‘I like it here.’
‘Alice, it doesn’t matter where we are. Our home is you and me, and that’s all that matters.’
But I knew she was lying. Ma loved it here too. She loved the sea and the taste of salt on her lips and the sound of the crashing waves. Sometimes I would catch her, eyes fixed on the horizon, staring out across the grey water and I knew she was thinking about my father. He was here, in the calling of the gulls and in the wind that bounced across the shallows, and clouds that gathered in the evening sky. She wouldn’t want to leave him. Not unless she had to.
‘I don’t want to leave,’ I said.
Ma shrugged. ‘If Gregor is determined to push us away, then he will. Perhaps it’s easier just to let him win.’
I had never heard her so defeated. Never. I stared at her in despair.
She kissed my forehead gently and then pushed her chair back from the table and got up, slowly and heavily. My mother wasn’t old, by any means, but just now she looked like my grandmother had before she died; worn out and weary of the world.
‘I’ll go and feed the chickens,’ she said.
‘I’ll come and help. I just need to do something.’
I waited for Ma to go outside, and then I picked up the cat that had somehow found its way onto my lap and kissed her little furry nose. ‘I’m going to make this better,’ I said.
The cat jumped down from my arms and I headed for the front door, away from the chickens and Ma. I pulled on my cloak, put up the hood and went outside into the chilly air. The clouds were hanging low over the sea, and I thought we were in for some bad weather. The wind was sharp on my cheeks and I could taste the salt, bitter on my tongue. A storm was coming.
With my head bent against the wind, I hurried along the street towards the big house. I was planning to go to the Kincaids and plead our case. If I spoke to them, reminded them that Ma had saved Christy’s life, and that of their mother, I was sure they would understand how good she was. How clever she was, and how vital to the whole town her skills were.
But in speaking out for Ma, I was going to have to point the finger at Kyla. She may have been my oldest friend but she’d made it clear she would betray me without so much as a second thought. Whether it was rolling in the hay with the man I had told her I was in love with, or using my own silly superstitions against me, it was obvious she didn’t value our years of friendship. I felt anger and betrayal burning inside me, red and simmering and ready to burst into flames. I was going to take that anger and I was going to use it against Kyla. I was going to show the town, and the Kincaids, that she was the one who had caused the milk to sour and the chickens to stop laying. She was the witch. And if the town’s eyes were on Kyla then surely Gregor’s campaign against my mother would have to stop?
I knew Ma had spoken sense when she said Gregor wouldn’t give up until he won, but still I thought this might buy us some time. Let us come up with another way to fight his plan for the harbour, without fearing for our lives.
I quickened my steps, eager to get to the big house as soon as I could. Kyla had my witch bottle on her. I knew that. I’d been foolish to take it from my room and carry it with me but I felt it gave me comfort. But that was of no consequence now. She had it and that was that. So I was going to tell Gregor and Davey that I’d seen Kyla with a witch bottle, chanting an incantation. And later I might find myself in the church, and tell the minister about my fears. I knew this would be a lowdown and nasty way to defend my mother’s honour but I didn’t care. I was scared and I was angry and I wanted to make it right.
This time when I approached the big house, I didn’t go round to the kitchen door. Instead I walked right up the wide path that led to the front of the impressive building, just as we had on the night the sickness had arrived.
Christy Kincaid was sitting at the top of the steps, leaning against the stone wall. He had a large, leather-bound book on his lap and he was reading it intently. He looked up as I approached.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I remember you.’
I smiled to see him there. He was pale and still a little scrawny, but he had colour in his cheeks. ‘Hello.’
‘Have you come to see Kyla?’
I shook my head. ‘Not today. It’s your father and your uncle that I wanted.’
Christy made a face. ‘They’re arguing.’ He looked very sad and I felt sorry for him. ‘Always arguing. That’s why I come outside to read. It’s more peaceful.’ The sound of raised voices drifted round the side of the house and he rolled his eyes. ‘Most of the time.’
‘What are you reading?’ I was intrigued by the thick book he was holding. It didn’t look like something a boy should be interested in.
‘Court reports,’ said Christy. His eyes shone. ‘Every time something happens in a court, someone makes a note of it. They write it all down.’
I thought that sounded dreadfully dull, but my eyes were drawn to the pages Christy was turning. I stepped closer to him so I could see it properly.
‘Everything that happens?’ I asked.
‘Trials, decisions, verdicts …’ Christy’s eyes gleamed. ‘Punishments.’
I shivered though I wasn’t sure why.
‘Do you want to borrow it?’ He shut it with a thud and held it out to me. ‘I’ve got another volume.’
I did not want to borrow that huge, dull book but somehow I found myself nodding. ‘Yes please,’ I said. I took it from him. ‘Thank you.’
The voices were louder now; I turned to look.
‘They’re in the garden,’ Christy said with a sigh. ‘You can go round.’
He got to his feet, less energetically than a 12-year-old boy would usually, but with enough vigour that I was heartened to see how well he had recovered.
‘Thanks for the book,’ I said.
‘Keep it.’ He gave me an odd look. ‘It might be useful one day.’ And then he slid through the half-opened front door and disappeared inside.
The voices were louder still. I stopped, listening to what they said. It was the Kincaid brothers, arguing, I knew that. But I wasn’t sure which one was which.
‘You are blinded by your own avarice,’ one man was saying. He sounded frustrated.
‘And you are blinded by a pretty face,’ said the other.
Very quietly, I walked towards the side of the house, keeping close to the thick walls, and peered round. There was a neat garden on that side, with a carefully tended lawn and some flower beds. I thought Ma would like to see those – she could grow all sorts of interesting plants there, because it would catch the morning sun and be sheltered from the wind.
I shook my head, that wasn’t important now. Edging forwards a bit more, I looked round properly. There, sitting on a stone bench, was Gregor Kincaid. He was a large man anyway and he looked bigger than normal on the small seat. He had one arm spread along the back of the bench, and his legs were spread wide, so he took up the whole chair, even though it was designed for two people.
His brother, Davey, was pacing up and down in front of him, gesturing with his arms. He too was a big man, tall and broad, but less imposing than the laird. Right now, though, his face was red with anger and his voice was raised. It was no wonder I’d heard them shouting.
‘All you care about is money,’ he was saying. ‘Lining your pockets with gold.’
‘Lucky for you that one of us cares about it,’ Gregor hissed. ‘Because you would have gambled away our fortune. Thrown it down on card tables or pissed it up against the wall each night.’
There was a pause and Davey rubbed his face. He looked … what was the word? Anguished, that was it. Anguish was the only way to describe his expression.
‘You are a disgrace,’ he said softly. ‘Imagine what our father would think to see this.’
‘Our father is not here.’ Gregor sounded amused, which only served to infuriate Davey more, because his face went even redder. ‘And if he was, how do you think he would feel about your friendship with Widow Seton?’
At the mention of my mother’s name, I froze, shrinking back into the shadows at the edge of the house.
Davey kicked a stone, sending it skittering towards me. ‘This problem with the harbour is of your making, Gregor,’ he said. ‘Your greed is responsible and you are the one who needs to sort it out.’
‘Oh, I will sort it,’ Gregor said. The self-satisfactory tone to his voice made me shudder. ‘I am sorting it. Widow Seton will help me.’
My blood ran cold. What could he want with my mother?
Davey was thinking the same. ‘What do you want with her?’ he said.
‘Allegations have been made against her and her daughter, and as the laird it is my responsibility to put them to her.’
‘Allegations?’ Davey’s voice was disbelieving and I felt a bit of hope. Perhaps he was on our side. ‘What sort of allegations.’
‘A serving girl has told me of disturbing deeds,’ Gregor said. He didn’t sound disturbed. In fact, he sounded cheerful. It was me who was crouching close to the ground, trying to control my breathing and hoping I wouldn’t cry out in fear, because I was too late to help my mother. The men were quiet, Davey had stopped his pacing and was staring at his brother.
‘I can’t ignore the claims she has made, Davey. If I were to let them go, then I fear we would be the ones to pay the price.’
I gripped the wall to steady myself, concentrating on the feeling of the rough stone beneath my fingers, hoping it would stop my rising panic.
‘Gregor …’
‘Davey, think of Christy, and our mother. We cannot expose them to danger.’
There was silence again. Davey muttered something under his breath and I stayed where I was, my mind whirling as I thought about what options I had, now Kyla had told Gregor about me, the lies she’d told.
Wildly I wondered if the things Kyla had said really were untruths. I had put my hand on Christy’s head and watched him recover. The milk soured when I was angry. What if the things Kyla was saying were true? I was beginning to doubt myself.
‘We need to take action,’ Gregor urged his brother.
I knew I had to do the same. But what could I do? Could I run now, to the minister? And hope my own allegations would counter Kyla’s? I wasn’t sure my trembling legs would carry me.
‘What are the claims?’ Davey asked. ‘How do you know this girl is telling the truth?’
‘She has spoken to the minister and given him the evidence.’ Gregor paused. I thought he sounded triumphant and that made me even more afraid. ‘Evidence she has found of witchcraft.’
My legs gave way beneath me and I slumped on to the cold stony path at the side of the house, shaking like a rabbit who had seen a fox. What could I do now? Kyla had made her allegations and we were in trouble. The foxes were the Kincaid brothers and my mother and I were the rabbits. The hunter and the prey.
‘Gregor,’ Davey said. ‘This is serious. You know what will happen if you call in the witch finder. This isn’t a game. You have seen what’s been happening all over the lowlands?’
‘I know.’
Everyone knew. Not a week went by without hearing news of another town being visited by the witch finder. But he had so far stayed away from our wee corner of the coast.
‘Is this serving girl trustworthy?’ Davey asked. He still sounded angry and I didn’t understand why.
‘She is a good, hardworking girl, loyal to God and the king.’
That meant nothing, I thought. People swore loyalty to whatever church, whatever king, whatever laird, they had to, to survive.
‘To be within the law, you need to see Widow Seton to put these charges to her, before anything else,’ Davey said.
Gregor gave a bark of laughter that made me jump but clearly Davey wasn’t joking because his brother gave a snort, got up from the stone seat and brushed down his trousers. ‘We shall go together.’
Davey muttered again and this time I thought he was swearing. ‘Fine.’
I knew that whatever happened I had to stop them going to my mother. If they didn’t give her a chance to answer to the allegations, then they couldn’t go any further – at least that was how it was supposed to work. I had to stop them seeing her face to face, so we had more time to make a plan. An escape plan, I realized with a heavy heart. It seemed leaving was the only thing we could do now.
But how could I prevent the Kincaids from going to my mother? If only the storm I’d seen gathering over the sea would arrive. The sky was darkening, and the wind was cold, but would it be enough to stop them? I gazed up at the clouds, wishing the rain would at least arrive.
Gregor and Davey were also looking at the heavens and debating the best way to get to my mother’s cottage. Should they walk? Or should they take the carriage?
A clap of thunder overhead made my heart thump heavily. I screwed up my eyes and clenched my fists and wished with all my heart that the storm would be a bad one. Bad enough to stop them leaving home. I felt spots of rain on my forehead and without opening my eyes, I raised my face to the sky. ‘Come on, storm,’ I thought to myself. Was it my imagination or were the raindrops getting larger?
‘Carriage,’ Gregor announced. I opened my eyes to see him set off round the building, away from where I was hiding, with Davey following. Their boots splashed through the puddles on the path because the rain was pouring down now.
I scurried round to the front of the house, waiting for them to come out in the carriage, still hoping for the storm to pick up. One of the servants appeared, holding two of the Kincaids’ horses by the bridle. The rain really was hammering down now and one of the horses was tossing his head, clearly unhappy about being out in the nasty weather. As Gregor and Davey appeared, both wrapped in their cloaks and wearing hats, there was another enormous clap of thunder, a spark of lightning lit up the trees lining the drive, and the horse – spooked – reared up on to his hind legs, sending the groom sprawling on the ground. With a loud whinny of fear, the horse raced away down the drive towards town. The other horse, also skittish, ran in the opposite direction, leapt over the wall close to where I was hiding, and was gone into the woods behind the house. I watched in disbelief as the groom scrambled to his feet and Davey and Gregor both shouted instructions that were whipped away from their mouths by the howling wind. The groom raced down the drive, after one of the escaping horses, while Davey pulled his hat down over his ears and headed into the woods. Gregor rolled his eyes and disappeared into the warm, dry house.
I waited for a while, feeling my cloak get heavy with rainwater, and my hair soak my back, and then – satisfied the Kincaids wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while – I set off for home.