Midsummer's Eve by Philippa Carr

the banks. If they throw her into the middle … They say witches don’t sink. The Devil saves them.”
    “But either way …”
    “She’ll be saved,” insisted Jacco.
    Then the boy came out of the cottage. He sped across the clearing. He was very close to us. I held my breath. I thought: What will they do to him?
    I was aware of him; he was crouching among the trees quite near us.
    The shouts sounded farther away; then they were near again. They were coming back. They were dragging Mother Ginny along. Her clothes were sodden and mud-stained; her hair hung grey and slimy about her face, which was deathly pale. I thought she was already dead.
    I heard myself praying to God to do something … to send these people away … to let Mother Ginny go back to her truckle bed.
    The people were shouting like a drunken mob. They were drunk in a way—not with strong drink but with mob frenzy.
    She lay on the grass and they were all round her. I could not see her now.
    Then someone cried: “The Devil saves his own.”
    “Not for long,” said someone else.
    Then suddenly, with a shout, someone threw a torch at the thatched roof. It ignited immediately. The thatch was alight. Someone threw another torch and the cottage was a blazing mass.
    The mob stood back to admire its handiwork. I could see Mother Ginny now. She had risen to her feet and stood staring at the cottage. There was silence as she tottered towards it. She went along the path to the door and walked into the flames.
    There was a silence which seemed to go on for a long time. I think they were all waiting for her to come out. But she did not.
    Someone shouted: “That’s her and her cat gone. What of the boy … the Witch’s Varmint?”
    There was silence again. My heart was beating rapidly. I heard a sound very close to us. Jacco moved his horse slightly. I heard him whisper: “Jump up behind me.”
    Then I saw Digory and I felt a wave of relief sweep over me.
    “Come on,” said Jacco. “Quick.”
    We moved silently through the woods.
    “Where?” I asked.
    “I’m thinking,” said Jacco.
    I glanced at Digory, who was clinging to Jacco; his face was white and all the bravado had gone out of him. I felt very tender towards him at that moment.
    We were free of the woods and Jacco began to canter.
    “Do you think they will follow us?” I called.
    “Might do. If they knew where we were.”
    I could see the grey towers of Cador. We went up the incline and Jacco stopped suddenly.
    “I know,” he said. “The Dogs’ Home.”
    “Oh yes,” I cried. “That’ll do.”
    The Dogs’ Home was an old shed a little way from the stables. Jacco used it for anything he needed for his pets. Our father had said that if he had them he must be able to look after them; they were his responsibility. He had a key and no one else had one.
    “It’s the safest place,” he said.
    We went on to the shed. Then Jacco dismounted, pulling Digory with him. The boy seemed in a state of shock and hardly to be aware of either of us.
    Jacco always carried the key of the shed with him. Now he opened it and we went inside. There were dogs’ baskets and sacks of peas with which Jacco fed his peacocks. It smelt like a granary.
    “You’ll be all right here,” he said. “No one would dare come here. We’ll get you blankets and food, so you needn’t worry.”
    Digory still did not speak.
    “Now,” said Jacco, “we’re going to see you’re all right. Annora, you get some blankets for him. You’ll have to be quiet. First let’s stable the horses.”
    We left Digory in the shed, locking him in. He was still stunned. I wondered how much he had seen of the terrible thing which had happened to his grandmother.
    As we left the stables, Jacco said: “We’ll keep him there until our father comes home. He’ll know what to do.”
    I felt an immense relief. Yes, our father would know what to do.
    “None of this would have happened if he had been here,” I said. “Mother Ginny is dead.