Free A Hint of Witchcraft by Anna Gilbert Page A

village knew or was about to be told that Katie Judd had pinched some beads from old Sally Burdon’s shop. Ashlaw’s underground channels of communication were alerted when Miss Burdon, bare-headed and wrathful, was seen striding down the lane to Monk’s Dene, pausing only under the gateway arch to wrest the sleeve of her dress from a vicious briar.
    â€˜It’s just as I thought, Mrs Humbert, when I refused to have her in my house. I’m bound to say that you took a risk in having her in yours. The girl is light-fingered as well as all the other things that are wrong with her. If you take my advice you’ll look round to make sure that she hasn’t taken anything of yours.’
    The attack had been sudden. Sarah herself had gone to the door. Margot, hearing Miss Burdon’s voice raised in anger, had joined her mother in the hall, her hands once more blood-red. They had difficulty in getting a word in but Miss Burdon’s manner was aggressive enough to put them instantly on the defensive.
    â€˜Do come in’ – Sarah indicated the dining-room – ‘and sit down. Then we can talk this over.’
    â€˜Thank you but I haven’t come to talk. I have come to ask Kate Judd to give me back those beads. Perhaps you would tell her that I want to see her. Considering the sort of person she is, I won’t go to the police.’
    â€˜My goodness, Miss Burdon, I hope you won’t.’
    â€˜Are you sure, Miss Burdon, that they aren’t there?’ Margot ventured. ‘I mean there were so many things on the counter. Couldn’t they have got caught up in something? Please let me come and help to look. I’ll just wash.…’
    â€˜Bella and I have looked everywhere. Every single item has been taken out of its box and shaken. I wouldn’t make such an accusation unless I was quite sure that it was justified.’
    â€˜You’d better bring her, Margot.’
    Katie had been helping to hull the strawberries, slowly and carefully. She and Margot had sat quietly, side by side in the old dairy, each with a big plate, a colander and a sheet of newspaper.
    â€˜Come and wash your hands, Katie.’
    They held their hands under the tap, taking turns, and dried them on opposite ends of the towel. When Katie had dried each of her fingers separately, she carefully wiped a trace of moisture from the back of Margot’s hand.
    â€˜You came to the shop, didn’t you, to tell me.…’
    â€˜Tell Miss Margot that Mr Miles is here. Would she like a trip to town?’ The smile of pride in remembering faded into uncertainty.
    â€˜I didn’t see you. I was in the garden.’ Recognizing signs of tension – a stiffening and quickened breathing, Margot added hastily, ‘But it didn’t matter: you did what you were told. You didn’t need to wait.’
    Was the anxiety a sign of guilt or no more than the worry of not having delivered her message?
    â€˜There were things on the counter, weren’t there?’
    Katie nodded, remembering the white things, remembering the white-clad figure coming nearer – and then the loud clang of the bell as she escaped. She began to rock backwards and forwards in growing agitation. Margot’s heart sank.
    â€˜Were there some beads?’
    From the hall came the sound of Miss Burdon’s voice. It had grown louder. Katie heard her own name. Her eyes, pale as a startled hare’s, registered terror.
    â€˜Did you pick them up? The beads?’ Slowly, Katie put out her right hand, the fingers crooked as if to touch.
    â€˜Miss Burdon thinks you took the beads? Did you take the beads, Katie?’
    And suddenly Margot couldn’t bear it. It was as if in a flash of understanding she saw the world as Katie saw it: a vast frightening muddle of disconnected events, incomprehensible people and strange sensations. The moment of insight passed, leaving her restored to a world in which