By the time Cassie and I got a chance to go to the museum, I was as twitchy as anything. Hermione still hadn’t turned up, and I was convinced someone had taken her. Mum was snappy and short-tempered, and she said she was taking some time off from the Haven. Which was weird. But she wouldn’t talk to me about it.
School was dragging, and Cassie and I still hadn’t done our history project. Somehow the appeal of writing about the witch-hunts had disappeared a bit now I was actually living in one. The only good thing was the Halloween disco which was just one day away now, but I was properly worried that with Mum so jumpy she’d turn around and say I couldn’t go.
After school the day before Halloween, I met Cassie and Callum at the gate and we walked to the museum. Heather was waiting for us, looking just as enthusiastic as she had last time.
‘How’s the project going, girls?’
We both looked a bit sheepish. ‘Slowly,’ I admitted while we all sat down. ‘We’ve not done much.’
‘Well, perhaps this will inspire you,’ she said, so eagerly I felt sad that I didn’t find history as exciting as she did.
‘What have you got?’ Cassie asked. ‘Did you find out anything about the rumours?’
‘Yes and no,’ Heather said. ‘There’s not many written records from the time, because not many people could read and write back then.’
‘Alice could,’ I said proudly. ‘She wrote the little charm inside the witch bottle.’
‘She did,’ Heather agreed. ‘That was really unusual for women at the time.’
I grinned.
‘So what have you found?’ Cassie asked.
‘I went back through the council records,’ Heather said, looking remarkably excited about trawling through endless boring documents. ‘And I found a report of a town council meeting from when the witch finder arrived in town.’
I felt a little shiver down my spine as she spoke, imagining a man clad in black riding into town to seek out poor Honor and Alice.
She pushed a bound book towards us and we all looked down at the indecipherable writing and then back up at Heather.
‘It’s not easy to read,’ she admitted. ‘But basically it explains that Honor Seton was asked to leave the meeting.’
‘Why?’ I frowned. ‘Because she was a witch?’
‘Because she was a woman.’
‘Uh-oh,’ said Callum. Cassie gave him an approving glance and I was pleased. ‘So women weren’t allowed at these meetings then?’
‘Ordinarily, no,’ Heather said. ‘But Honor Seton was different.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve done a bit of reading from records of other meetings, and it seems she was a burgess – a local councillor – at a time when women weren’t even allowed to vote.’
I was confused. ‘That makes no sense.’
‘It was a legal loophole. Her husband was a burgess and when he died, he left his title to her.’
‘Nice,’ said Cassie.
‘Except they threw her out of the meeting,’ I pointed out.
‘Well, she was a burgess for more than ten years as far as I can see from old records,’ Heather said. ‘I had no idea any women had taken on that role so early, so this is interesting for me, too.’
Callum was looking puzzled. ‘So they let her do it for ten years and then decided to throw her out? What changed?’
‘The witch finder?’ I felt that shiver down my spine again. ‘Was it because of him?’
Heather pushed another book across the table. It showed a little line drawing of a man in a black jacket with a large white collar, wearing a floppy hat and brandishing a stick.
‘Malcolm Black,’ she said. ‘Scotland’s most notorious witch finder.’
‘Looks nice.’ Cassie made a face.
‘He was feared all over the area,’ Heather said. ‘He went from town to town looking for witches.’
‘What, he just turned up?’ Callum said.
‘Normally in response to rumours of salacious activity.’
‘So he turns up at the meeting and throws Honor out, just because she’s a woman?’ I felt personally attacked by the idea. ‘Was that really enough to be suspicious of her?’
‘John Knox …’ Heather looked at us. ‘You know who John Knox was?’
‘Yes,’ I said firmly, though I wasn’t totally sure of all the facts.
Heather clearly cottoned on to my lack of knowledge. ‘John Knox was a religious reformer from about a century earlier,’ she said. ‘He had taught that women with power were a threat to the natural order of things, so yes, Honor being a woman and a burgess was enough to get her thrown out.’
‘Why didn’t anyone stand up for her?’ Cassie said, outraged. She had a very clear sense of right and wrong, which I loved. ‘Why didn’t anyone point out she’d been there much longer than he had?’
‘I imagine that they all knew Honor was about to be accused of being a witch,’ Heather said. ‘And if they stood up for her, then that was as bad as being accused themselves.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘It’s one of the reasons the witch-hunts spread so fast. Anyone speaking up was accused, and the only way to stop the finger being pointed at you was to accuse someone else.’
‘God,’ I said. ‘That’s exactly what happened with my …’ I shut my mouth and stopped talking, not wanting to tell Heather about my dad. But Cassie nodded at me, understanding. It was so familiar. Mum had stood by Dad – at first – and that had been enough to bring the accusations down on her head. ‘Things haven’t moved on at all, have they?’
‘Well, we don’t put witches to death anymore.’
‘Just make death threats instead.’
Heather gave me an odd look and Cassie jumped in. ‘This is great for our project,’ she said sweetly.
Heather beamed at her. ‘I’m so pleased.’
‘Is there any more about the rumours?’ I asked.
‘Not really.’ Heather scanned the report in front of her. ‘Just that there was some gossip about Honor being involved with a man called Davey Kincaid. He was a local bigwig. But he denied it and actually it seems he and his older brother, who was the laird, were behind the rumours about Honor.’
‘Shit,’ I breathed. ‘So he was pretending to be Honor’s boyfriend but really he was doing the dirty on her?’
Heather shrugged. ‘We’ll never know.’
*
‘What are you thinking, Jem?’ Callum asked as we walked home, laden with printouts and notes about Honor.
I made a face. ‘I’m thinking that perhaps she trusted this Davey Kincaid and he used that against her.’
‘Poor cow,’ said Cassie. ‘Men are the worst.’ She stuck her tongue out at Callum and he shoved her good-naturedly.
‘But it’s the same, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘What is?’ Callum looked confused.
‘Honor and her bloke, and Mum and Rory.’
‘Is it?’
I stopped walking. ‘Think about it. He’s been sniffing around, making himself useful. Bringing pizza. Being all nice.’ I spat out the word. ‘Getting Mum to trust him.’
‘He’s being nice because he fancies your mum,’ Cassie said.
I started walking again, faster this time because I was annoyed.
‘It all makes sense,’ I said over my shoulder to Callum and Cassie. ‘He was even at school the day I lost my tie. We saw him, didn’t we, Cass?’
‘Well, we saw someone who could have been him,’ she said doubtfully.
‘And then it turned up round a skeleton’s neck.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ Callum said. ‘What else?’
I thought. ‘The paint on the cloth in his van.’
Callum shrugged. ‘It’s all just circumstantial.’
‘All right, CSI boy,’ I said. ‘I’ve just got a feeling about him, that’s all.’ I felt a bit deflated now. ‘I’m not sure about him.’
‘That’s probably because he’s doing it with your mum,’ Cassie said. ‘That’s always weird.’
‘Urgh,’ I said. ‘They’re not doing it, Cass. They’ve not even been on a date.’
‘They’re doing it,’ Cassie said with conviction.
‘Stop it.’
‘Doing it, doing it, doing it.’
‘Cassie,’ I said. But I was laughing too. She could always cheer me up.
Callum was walking a little way ahead of us, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion about my mother’s sex life.
‘Rory set up the CCTV, didn’t he?’ he said over his shoulder.
‘Yes.’
‘So why would he do that if he thought it would catch him doing something awful.’
‘That’s what Mum said,’ I said reluctantly. ‘Maybe it’s not him after all.’
We’d reached the corner, where we all had to go our separate ways, so we stopped walking.
Cassie gave me a hug. ‘I have to go because my dad’s coming to pick us up,’ she said. ‘Message me later.’
She headed off and Callum grinned at me.
‘Want me to walk you home? I could help you look for your cat again?’
‘That would be good. Shall I ask my mum if you can stay for dinner?’
Callum gave me a broad smile. ‘Great.’
I pulled out my phone and started typing a message to Mum as we walked towards our cottage.
‘Don’t ignore your gut,’ Callum said suddenly.
‘What?’
‘If you’ve got a gut feeling about Rory, you shouldn’t ignore it.’
‘You think?’
He shrugged. ‘Not sure. But I’ve read stuff online about instincts and how often it’s you picking up on something, rather than some sort of sixth sense.’
‘Sounds a bit weird.’
‘Witchcraft,’ he said with a grin. ‘Maybe just keep an eye on him, that’s all.’