The fish and chips were hot, salty and greasy, just as Aveline and Harold liked them. Afterwards, as they watched TV with full stomachs, Aveline felt happier than she had been earlier. It was fun having Harold here.

Later that evening, just before bed, they had another look at the pile of books he’d brought with him, which seemed to have grown since Aveline had last seen it.

“I was only joking about bringing the whole bookshop,” Aveline said with a smirk.

“Well, I didn’t have much time to get organized, so I just grabbed anything that looked like it might fit the bill.” Plonking himself down on the floor beside her, Harold swept his fringe out of his eyes, which immediately fell back into the exact same position. “But you know that book I showed you earlier, Folklore and Customs of the British Isles?”

“Yeah, it had a section about the stones in it.”

“That’s right, but have you read the rest of it yet?” Pulling the book onto his lap, Harold turned to a section he’d marked. “Here, look, there’s a bit at the end about the village itself you might want to take a look at.”

Intrigued, Aveline peered down at where Harold had pressed his finger.

The village of Norton Wick has a long association with witchcraft, dating back to the early 1600s when it was the scene of a notorious witch trial. However, it’s further claimed by some historians that the name of the village itself points to an ancient and well-established tradition of pagan practices in the area, with the name Wick said to derive from the Old English word wicca, or wicce, meaning witch.

“Hazel keeps talking about magic, doesn’t she?” Harold said with raised eyebrows. “And she says the vicar is a witch, too? Maybe the tradition is still going strong?”

“Oh my,” Aveline said, her thoughts immediately turning to Alice. At that moment, a cold breeze blew in through the window. The fine hairs on her forearms rose up and she smoothed them down with her fingers.

“I’d keep a close eye on both of them if I was you,” Harold said, reaching for another book. “Okay, so here’s one about druids.”

“Wow, you remembered everything.”

The picture on the front showed a man in white robes, his hands raised to the sky. Not too dissimilar to the pub sign, only not quite so menacing. This druid looked a bit like Gandalf.

“This one’s a little wordy,” Harold said. “I’ve only skim-read it.”

“What’s it say?”

“Oh, it seems druids are a bit of a mystery alright. Mainly because they never wrote anything down, so we don’t have any records. But the author says they were probably like leaders, priests, judges and doctors all rolled into one. Very wise. I think I probably would have been one.”

“No, I think you would have been the tribal dung-spreader.”

“And you would have been my assistant,” Harold said, between snorts of laughter. “Anyway, you haven’t seen the best bit yet.” He reached over to retrieve yet another book. “I read a little of this just now and I think it might remind you of something.”

Harold passed the slim volume over. It had become like a game of pass-the-parcel, only each time a new book ended up in Aveline’s lap, it felt as if she was unwrapping another layer of mystery. Angling the spine, Aveline read the title.

Turning to the page with the sticky yellow tab on it, Aveline quickly read what it said.

Superstitions surrounding witches and witchcraft were a part of everyday life in medieval England and, as a result, many charms were developed in an effort to keep both householders and houses safe against evil influences. One notable example is the witch bottle, an early description of which appears in Joseph Glanvill’s Witches and Apparitions:

“To protect thyself against the witch’s curse, take their Hair, and Cork it in a Bottle with Nails, Pins and Needles, and bury it in the Earth; and that will do the feat.”

As Aveline finished the section, she let out a long breath.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Harold said quietly, “but that sounds very much like the bottle you discovered in the back garden – you know, the one we smashed.”

“It…does, yeah,” Aveline said, her heart fluttering. The description matched precisely. She’d wondered why somebody would go to the trouble of burying a bottle full of nails. Now she had her answer. “But if someone put it there to protect a house against witchcraft…”

“Then we’d better watch out because we’re not protected any longer,” Harold said. “And with that comforting thought fresh in our minds, I suppose we’d better get to bed.”

Before going to bed, Aveline closed the window and locked it, even though it was another warm evening. The thought of the house lying defenceless without the witch bottle wasn’t a nice one, but at least locks on windows offered a more solid form of protection. With these unsettling thoughts in mind, sleep was hard to come by. And even when it did finally come, it wasn’t to be for long.

At first she thought it was thunder. They’d had a storm the first night they arrived, the humidity breaking out into daggers of blue light and a brief but heavy deluge. But as she craned her neck to listen, the sound she could hear felt unusually rhythmic.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It sounded like footsteps, only they were coming from the roof. She debated waking Harold, or her mum, but forced herself to listen a while longer and think of what it could be. A bird? Some kind of nocturnal animal? Did foxes or badgers climb onto the roofs of houses? Probably not. Maybe it was just a squirrel, out having a night-time ramble. Gently pulling back the sheet, Aveline crept to the window and peered out. The moon shone brightly, making everything appear as if it was made of molten silver, the stones like steel blades pointing up into the clear night sky. Pushing open the window as far as it would go, Aveline leaned out and turned, trying to see up onto the roof.

She started as something flew into the air.

A raggedy shape, like a piece of black cloth blown from a washing line.

A bird.

It’s only a bird, Aveline told herself, hurriedly blowing out the breath she’d just inhaled.

Closing the window behind her, she locked it, checked it and tiptoed back to bed.

When Aveline awoke, her bedroom felt like a sauna. Popping on her glasses and glancing at her phone, she saw that it was still early. Climbing out of bed, she opened the window and let the air cool her flushed skin. In the pale early morning light, her thoughts were no longer quite so dark. Even those uncanny thumps had a perfectly logical explanation. They were out here in the countryside and the noises at night were different to those in the city, that was all. She would just have to get used to it. But as she made her way downstairs for a glass of orange juice, she noticed something unusual on the doormat – a perfect white square of paper. A letter. Bending down, she saw that it had her name written on it.

The writing was beautiful and looked as if someone had used an old-fashioned ink pen. She didn’t get many personally addressed letters. In fact, apart from birthday cards, this was possibly the first one she’d ever received. Strange, too, considering she was only here on holiday.

Hesitantly, she picked it up, opened it, and read what was written inside.

Upstairs, Aveline could hear doors opening, footsteps thumping, toilets flushing and taps running. It sounded like everybody else was getting up, too. She considered going to show Harold the note, but then decided against it, tucking it inside her pyjamas for safekeeping. Harold already thought Hazel was kooky. A personally addressed letter delivered at some strange hour of the night wouldn’t help matters. Everyone they knew would have just sent a text. And despite their somewhat frosty first encounter, Aveline desperately wanted Harold and Hazel to get along. Harold was an old friend. Hazel was a new one. And they actually had quite a lot in common. A sense of humour, for one thing. Anyway, Aveline still hadn’t decided if she would go to Hazel’s house yet. She still had to get permission, plus she didn’t want Harold to think she was shutting him out of things just after he’d arrived. She didn’t like herself for not telling Harold about the note, but convinced herself that it was for good reason. She didn’t want to play piggy-in-the-middle for the rest of the holiday and didn’t see why, with a little time, they all couldn’t get along just fine.

After they’d finished breakfast, it was the oldies’ turn to go and have a look at the stones. Aveline’s mum explained to Mr Lieberman and Aunt Lilian how Aveline had become a little obsessed by them and so they should all go and see what they were missing out on.

“It’s like living in the middle of prehistory itself,” Mr Lieberman said, putting on his trilby hat. “Ach, imagine that, we’ll be walking in the exact location where once, ancient architects and builders considered the mighty task before them, mopping their brows while—”

“Ernst, come on, let’s go, or we won’t be back in time for lunch,” Aunt Lilian said, unable to conceal her impatience.

Aveline and Harold chose to stay behind and go for a walk through the village, before they met the rest of them back at the cottage. While they were out, Aveline finally decided that she would go to Hazel’s after all, as long as her mum agreed. She couldn’t resist seeing where Hazel lived and it would give her a chance to ask some more about Alice – and also if she knew anything about the witch trial.

And so, after lunch, while they had a moment alone, she told her mum about Hazel’s offer.

“She’s invited me over tonight. Her parents said it would be okay,” Aveline said, already knowing – and dreading – what her mum was going to say.

“Of course you can stay at Hazel’s tonight, though I’ll need to double-check with her parents. Do you have a phone number for them?”

“No, Hazel doesn’t have a phone.”

“Really? That’s unusual. I’m afraid you can’t go if I’m unable to speak to them first. Anyway, don’t you think it’s a little unfair on Harold? He’s come all this way just to see you, and he’s only here for a few days.”

“Yeah, I know,” Aveline said, kneading her fingers into knots. “But she sort of put me on the spot. I did ask if Harold could come but she said it was girls only. It’s just for one night, Harold will be fine.”

Even as she said it, Aveline realized that she sounded exactly like Hazel had yesterday.

“Well, you’ll need to find out their phone number or you’ll have to unarrange it, I’m afraid.”

At that moment, Aveline heard the muffled sound of a phone ringing.

“Is that mine?” Aveline’s mum said.

“I think so, Mum, sounds like it’s in your handbag.” After a moment’s rummaging, her mum found her phone and answered it.

“Hello?” After a brief pause, she said it again. “Hello?”

Aveline’s mum frowned, before fiddling with the volume.

“I can’t quite…oh hello…yes, this is Susan Jones. I’m sorry? This line is very bad for some reason…yes…yes… oh, hello there…okay…yes…well, that’s fine then. And the address?” Scrabbling for a pen, Aveline’s mum hastily wrote something down. “Yes…okay…well, thank you for calling. By the way, how did you get hold of my…oh. They’ve hung up.”

Slowly, Aveline’s mum placed her phone back in her handbag, staring at it with a puzzled expression.

“Well, Hazel’s ears must have been burning. That was her mum, though I couldn’t hear her very well. I wonder how she got my number?”

“What did she say?” Aveline asked.

“The gist of it appeared to be that it’s okay for you to go and stay over. So fine, you can go, I hope it’s fun, but you’ll need to make it up to Harold.”

“I will, I promise,” Aveline said, relieved that she’d been given permission to go, yet suddenly beset by a queasy feeling in her stomach at the thought of spending time with someone she didn’t know that well. Meeting people’s parents was always nerve-wracking. What if they didn’t like her? If only Harold could have come too, she would have been much more relaxed about the whole thing.

For the rest of that afternoon, Aveline did her best to make good on the promise she’d made to her mum. She made Harold and herself milkshakes. Later, Harold wanted to go and have another look at the stones to see if he could find any more notes, and so they went exploring for a couple of hours. They made a complete sweep of the circle and investigated all the nooks and crannies, but didn’t stumble upon anything else unusual.

After dinner, Aveline realized it was time to go. She still felt nervous even though she was only going for a sleepover. Yet she’d known Hazel for such a short time. It felt as if this had come a little too early in their friendship. Aveline was also annoyed with herself for having been pulled into Hazel’s plans so easily. In hindsight, she hadn’t really had much of a say in the matter and she promised herself that Harold would come first for the remainder of the time he was here. She even considered backtracking and making an excuse, until she realized that she had absolutely no idea how to contact Hazel and didn’t want to leave her waiting on the village green.

So, after packing her overnight bag, Aveline said her farewells. She noted that Aunt Lilian gave her a very pointed look and knew that her aunt was thinking the same thing as her mum.

Harold walked her to the door. If he was feeling left out, then he wasn’t showing it.

“Have a good time at Hazel’s. Don’t worry about me, I’m really looking forward to watching Downton Abbey all night with this lot.”

“Thanks,” Aveline said with a smirk. “See you in the morning.”

“If she offers to show you the attic, just say no.”

“Very funny.”

Hazel wasn’t there when Aveline arrived, so she parked herself on the bench to wait. Admiring her dolphin pendant, Aveline wondered what the night would bring. Despite her nerves, she couldn’t wait to see where Hazel lived. Maybe they would go to see the horse, too, and she could feed it an apple and nuzzle its soft, velvety nose.

A tap on her shoulder made her jump.

Hazel sat down beside her, eyes bright like the midday sun. “Hello there, Aveline with an A.”

“Hazel, you made me jump,” Aveline said.

“Sorry I’m late, I lost track of the time. I was busy getting everything ready for tonight. You excited?”

“Uh, yeah,” Aveline said. “But you said you wanted to show me something before we head over to yours?”

“Yes, I do. Come on, we can cut through the village.”

“Did your parents really say they wanted to meet me?” Aveline asked shyly, shouldering her bag.

“Oh, they’re actually away tonight,” Hazel said. “It’ll just be me and you.”

With that, Hazel scampered off. Despite the residual warmth of the day, Aveline shivered. No parents? That was highly unusual, particularly considering the phone call her mum had received. With trembling hands, Aveline pulled her jacket tight around her shoulders. Now she really wished she’d stayed at home.