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she had dreams? Nightmares?”
    â€œNightmares? Not that I know of. What kind of nightmares?”
    â€œAbout being in a wood. Surrounded by leaves.”
    â€œI daresay she might have been delirious toward the end. Is that what you mean?”
    â€œNo. I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter.” Hannah was about to get up and go, but then she hesitated. “Your mother must have talked to you a lot about all this—for you to know so much?”
    Mrs. Wilson nodded slowly. “She has. But, funnily enough, not when I was younger. It’s only been in the last ten years or so, as her short-term memory’s worsened, that all this past stuff has come out. And I believe it was the same with her mother. Grandma never said a word about it till she was quite an old lady, apparently, but it must have been preying on her mind all those years. Oh, well.” She smiled sadly. “That’ll be the end of it now, anyway. I’ve no children to tell the story to. My husband and I would dearly have liked some, but we were never blessed.”
    There was a slightly awkward silence. Then Hannah got up to go. “Would you mind if I borrowed this for a while? I’ll take care of it.” She pointed to the photograph.
    â€œOf course you can. Hold on to it for as long as you want. And listen”—she looked anxious—“maybe I shouldn’t have told you all that about Miss Holt, not when you’re living in the house. It won’t give you nightmares, will it?”
    â€œWell, if it does, it’s not your fault. I asked for information, and you gave it to me!”
    â€œMmm.” Mrs. Wilson still looked worried. “Tell you what—I’ll give you my cell-phone number. I’m a poor sleeper—comes of living with Mother, I expect. She naps during the day and then wonders why she’s awake half the night. If you need to talk, just call me. If I’m not asleep, the phone’ll be switched on.”
    Hannah thanked her. But while she was copying the number, she realized there was one obvious question she still hadn’t asked. “Apart from Miss Holt being difficult, and taking over the nursing, what else made the servants suspicious of her?”
    Pat Wilson frowned. Then she sighed. “Oh, well, I’ve told you so much already, I don’t suppose one more thing will make much difference. It’s just that from time to time, I believe Maisie was covered in bruises. Black and blue, she was. Only nobody could ever explain why.”
    â€œAnd they thought Miss Holt had caused them?” Hannah was shocked. “Did she beat her?”
    â€œI don’t think so. That was the point, you see. The bruises just suddenly appeared overnight.”
    â€œAngelina!”
    They both turned to stare at Mrs. Grocott, who was wide awake now, a look of triumph on her face.
    â€œNo, no, Mother,” her daughter said patiently. “Miss Holt wasn’t called Angelina. You know that.”
    â€œNot her . Angelina was the name of the little girl’s dolly! Knew I’d get there in the end.”
    Mrs. Wilson chuckled. “So that’s what you’ve been trying to remember, is it? We were wondering what it was all about.”
    But Hannah refused to be distracted. “You were saying? About the bruises? And the servants?”
    â€œOh, yes.” She laughed nervously. “I expect it was just a lot of nonsense, but for some reason the staff all got it into their heads that Miss Holt was a witch!”

Chapter Eleven
    Drawing
    â€œA WITCH! ARE YOU serious?” Sam had arrived after lunch, and as soon as her mother went out to the shops, Hannah had taken him straight up to her bedroom, where she had filled him in on what she had discovered about Cowleigh Lodge.
    â€œThat’s what she said.”
    â€œJust because of a few bruises? Why couldn’t the kid have gotten them playing in the garden?”
    â€œThey