In the morning, Hazel woke Aveline with a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Want some breakfast?” Hazel said, her eyes bright and hair shiny, as if she’d had the best, deepest sleep ever.

“Um…yeah,” Aveline mumbled, her eyes crusty, her hair tousled, the disturbing nightmare having taken its toll.

“Pancakes, croissants, omelettes, bacon sandwiches, waffles, French toast, full English – what do you fancy?”

It all sounded so good. But then Aveline remembered that Harold would be waiting for her at the cottage.

“Actually, on second thoughts, I’d better be getting back,” she said reluctantly, her stomach rumbling in dismay. “You couldn’t show me the way, could you? I sort of lost my bearings in the dark.”

“Of course, I’ll come with you,” Hazel said.

“Don’t you have to wait for your parents to come home?”

“No, it’s fine, they said they’d be back later this morning sometime, not sure when exactly. I’ll head back in a while. Wait here, I’ll go and get dressed.”

Aveline thought Hazel’s parents must be the easiest-going people in the world, though something about the way Hazel was so vague about their whereabouts raised doubts, particularly remembering the sad way she’d spoken the previous night. It sounded like she’d made up it up on the spot. Aveline wasn’t sure why Hazel would lie about her parents and what they were doing, but it made her ever so slightly uneasy.

A horrible thought came to mind: maybe Hazel’s parents were neglecting her? That was the big mystery! It had to be. It would certainly explain some of her behaviour, such as why she appeared so keen to have company and was always free to do as she liked. Aveline wondered whether she should mention her concerns to her mum, but she didn’t want to betray Hazel’s confidence or get her into trouble if she’d got things wrong.

At the back of her mind, a plan took shape: she would have to come here again when Hazel wasn’t expecting her. With those big windows it would be easy to watch from the trees. Spying on someone wasn’t nice, she knew that, but this was different. She would simply be looking out for her new friend. Hazel obviously felt unwilling to speak about her situation and this could be Aveline’s only way of helping. All she needed to do was check that Hazel wasn’t being left alone. She could bring Harold with her, too. He would love a top-secret mission. And if they saw that Hazel was being neglected then she would tell her mum immediately.

A few minutes later Hazel reappeared, looking as if she’d been dressed by a team of fashion stylists. As they left the house, Aveline glanced back, trying to see an approach road, but even in the daylight she couldn’t see anything. The sky was a pale blue, the eastern horizon tinged pink where the sun was making its entrance. It felt chilly but refreshing.

“You know, Harold could be your friend, too, if you wanted,” Aveline said. “He’s really nice once you get to know him.”

Hazel frowned, her kaleidoscope eyes narrowing. “You’re the only friend I want, but thanks for the offer.”

Her words sounded as if they were coated in ice.

“Um…okay.”

Once again, Aveline had that unsettling feeling: that being friends with Hazel might bring with it a whole world of challenges.

As they crested a hill, Aveline caught sight of the church tower. Now she had her bearings. She could find her own way home from here, but didn’t want Hazel to think she was pushing her away.

“You can come and have some breakfast at ours if you want.”

“Okay, though I can only eat certain things or I get terribly ill.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m limited to doughnuts, pancakes with syrup or chocolate croissants. It makes life very difficult.”

Aveline laughed. It seemed Hazel’s dark mood had passed and that made her happy. Her friend’s temperament resembled the weather – cold one minute, warm the next. Slipping her arm into the crook of Hazel’s elbow, she yanked her into a jog.

“Okay, only you might have to settle for cornflakes. Croissants are a bit too fancy for us.”

“Fine, as long as I can put chocolate spread on them,” Hazel said with a grin.

As they passed the lychgate that led into St Michael’s church, they saw Alice tramping through the graveyard in her big boots.

“Oh no, quick, run!” Hazel hissed, giving Aveline’s arm an almighty yank.

Giggling, Aveline began to run alongside Hazel. Together they fled down the lane, towards The Witch Stones and the cottage, the fresh morning breeze fanning their glowing cheeks. It felt fun to be staging a grand escape from the strange vicar at the church, but even so, Aveline glanced back, unable to suppress a twinge of guilt.

Alice stood in the lychgate, watching them sprint along the lane. Her mouth hung open, and her normally rosy face had turned as pale as the morning light. She looked equally alarmed and shocked. Aveline took all this in for a brief instant, before she turned back so she could see where she was going.

“I-I think she saw us,” Aveline gasped.

“Good! I don’t care, the old hag’s just jealous!” Hazel cried.

Flushed from their exertions, they arrived back at the cottage and barged in through the door.

“Morning, Mum!” Aveline yelled.

Harold sat alone at the kitchen table, cereal spoon in one hand, book in another, his fringe dangling over his eyes like a giant eyelash. Glancing up, he broke into a wide grin.

“My name’s actually Harold, but you can call me Mum if you like. They’ve all popped out for a walk around the village.”

Aveline laughed, though she couldn’t help but notice that Hazel didn’t.

“I’ve changed my mind about breakfast,” Hazel said. “I’m going to go eat back home. I’ll see you later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. See you, Harold.”

“Bye,” Harold said, hand raised. He waited a moment for Hazel to leave before looking up at Aveline with a pained expression. “I don’t think she likes me, Aveline, and I wish I knew why.”

“She’s just shy, I think,” Aveline said, trying to find a reason why Hazel seemed to make so little effort to get on with him.

“Shy?” Harold said, with a snort. “You could have fooled me. She’s the most confident person I’ve ever met!”

“I think that’s just an act. You know how it is with some people. They put on a show because deep down inside, they’re actually really nervous.”

“Mmm…I don’t think she knows what the word means,” Harold muttered, spooning in a huge mouthful of cereal. Aveline couldn’t help but notice that he appeared to have spilled as much on the kitchen table as he’d got in his mouth. “What was it like then, did you have a good night?”

“It was strange, if I’m honest. Very strange. And that’s part of the reason why I think she’s putting on an act. Promise you won’t tell my mum, but her parents weren’t there. It was just the two of us. I think she might be being neglected.”

Harold stopped mid-chew. A trickle of milk ran down one side of his mouth and he wiped it away with his sleeve. “Seriously?”

Aveline related all that had happened the previous evening – from their hunt for the witches’ grave and the strange encounter in the graveyard with Alice, to her unsettling experience in the middle of the night. She left out the confession that Hazel had made about not having any friends. That felt secret. Something that shouldn’t be shared.

“So we have to go back there. Later today. We have to check that she’s not being left alone all the time.”

“Why not just tell your mum when she gets back?” Harold asked, getting up to dump his bowl in the sink.

“Because it might be nothing, that’s why. Maybe Hazel’s parents thought she’d be fine on her own for one night because I would be there to keep her company. People have different rules and, I don’t know, maybe they’re just more relaxed about things like that in the country?”

“Maybe. Okay, we can go down later. I’ll bring my binoculars, they’re perfect for spying…I mean, checking on people.”

Aveline heard him thump upstairs like a baby elephant, hoping the withered wooden stairs wouldn’t give way underneath him. She unpacked her overnight bag, silently cursing as she realized she’d left her toothbrush at Hazel’s. Grabbing herself some juice from the fridge, she heard her mum talking outside and went to open the door. Her mum, along with Aunt Lilian and Mr Lieberman, were in conversation with someone at the garden gate.

As Aveline drew nearer, she saw that they were talking to Alice. She’d removed her hat, which she used to fan her plump cheeks, red in the heat of the morning.

“…and we have some fine stained-glass windows depicting scenes from both the Old and New Testament – you’ll have to come down and have a look.”

“We most certainly will,” Mr Lieberman said, who’d also removed his trilby in the warm weather. “We may even take a walk down this afternoon if that’s amenable?”

“Oh, you know churches,” Alice replied, her eyes straying towards Aveline. “We’re open all hours. I see Aveline has come to join us. I don’t think she’s seen inside the church yet either.”

Aveline blushed at Alice’s subtle reference to their previous meeting. She suddenly felt guilty again about running away from her earlier. As if she’d done something cruel.

“Ah, the wanderer returns,” Aunt Lilian said.

“Morning, love,” Aveline’s mum said. “How was your night with Hazel?”

“Oh, fine, thanks,” Aveline said, the lie coming effortlessly.

“Well, come in and have some breakfast if you haven’t already. Alice, would you care to join us for a cup of tea?”

“Oh, I’m afraid I must attend to church business. Maybe another time if the offer still stands?”

“Of course.”

As the three adults made their way into the cottage, Alice touched Aveline’s sleeve. “Could I have a quick word, Aveline?”

Reluctantly, Aveline nodded. Joining Alice under the welcome shade of the apple tree, she waited to hear what she had to say. Undoubtedly it wasn’t going to be something good. She bowed her head, adopting the body language of someone who’s about to be told off.

“Forgive me, Aveline, I know you must have things to do. But it’s something your mum just said. She said you’d stayed with a girl called Hazel last night. That’s the girl I saw you with earlier, isn’t it?”

Aveline wished a hole in the ground would open up underneath her. “I’m sorry we ran away without saying hello,” she cut in. “We were late and had to rush.”

“I don’t care about that, Aveline. Believe me when I say people regularly go out of their way to avoid my company.” Mopping her brow with a handkerchief, Alice smiled, her red cheeks rising up to meet her eyes. “Do you remember what I said when we spoke yesterday?”

“Yes, of course. You said not to get into trouble and to trust my intuition.”

“And what does your intuition tell you about Hazel, may I ask?”

“You know her then?” Aveline said, fiddling with her glasses.

“Yes, I happen to know Hazel very well,” Alice continued. “But do you?”

Aveline wasn’t sure what to say, but there was something about Alice’s honest, open expression that invited the truth. “Well, yes, I think so – although I haven’t known her for long, it’s true. But I really like her. She’s funny and smart. Only, I don’t think she’s very happy.”

“That’s very astute of you, Aveline. Hazel is, indeed, a wonderfully gifted but very troubled girl. That’s why I would counsel you to keep your distance, otherwise you may find yourself caught up in matters you don’t understand.”

“But how am I supposed to help her if I don’t see her?”

“I’m going to be here for her, Aveline, as I always have been, and you can rest assured that I do everything in my power to look after her. Of course, that presents its challenges. I’m afraid Hazel doesn’t have a very high opinion of me.”

No, she thinks you’re a witch, Aveline thought.

“But let me reassure you that Hazel is very much cared for. The best way you can help is by giving her a wide berth. She’s not like…other girls, you see.” Alice paused, clenching her teeth as if unsure how to continue. “I know this must all sound very odd, Aveline, but you’ll have to trust me on this one. Keep your distance, for your own sake. I know what I’m doing, even if appearances may suggest otherwise. Good day to you!”

Aveline watched Alice clump away, before walking slowly back up the garden path and into the cottage. So Hazel and Alice knew each other? That was odd. Hazel hadn’t given Aveline that impression at all. But if Alice truly was a witch, and she knew that Hazel knew, then maybe she was trying to force them apart on purpose?

Despite everything Alice had said, Aveline couldn’t just abandon Hazel. Last night she’d assured Hazel that she was her friend. And friends stuck together through thick and thin.

No, as far as Aveline was concerned, the plan was still on. She and Harold would go and find out what was really happening at Hazel’s house. You didn’t help people by avoiding them.

As she made her way back into the cottage, Harold met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Got them,” he said, holding up a small pair of binoculars. “I knew they’d come in handy. But you wouldn’t believe what else I found while you were out last night. This was tucked away at the back of a cupboard. Pretty creepy if you ask me.”

In his other hand, he held up an old, battered pamphlet, yellowed with age. On the cover was old-fashioned lettering, along with a rather unsettling picture of a woman riding a sow. The title said:

“This, believe it or not, is an actual account of the trial that happened here,” Harold said breathlessly. “It’s hard to make out what’s going on because it’s written in a really weird way, but I reckon we need to try and give it a read, like, as soon as possible.”

Aveline took it from him for a closer look. A sickly feeling crept up from her stomach to the back of her throat. Because underneath the image of the woman on the sow there was a caption.

The witch, Alice Browne.

It was spelled Browne with an e.