"There you are," she said. "Where've you been all day? I've been at the stones for hours."
I shook my head. I felt sulky with the whole world, even with my best friend.
"Mum says it's dinner now, anyway. Come on. I'll tell you all the plans afterwards. Come on!"
She whisked back into her room, her blonde hair fluttering behind her like a golden flag. It was full twilight now and the midges were beginning to bite. I made my way slowly down the stairs, not wanting to see anyone but unable to pluck up the courage to stay in my room.
Everyone sat outside, as was usual for our supper time. The citronella candles were lit and a breeze ruffled the paper napkins.
That was the last evening we were to dine in the garden. My eyes kept returning to Angus and Mrs. McGaskill, trying to spot a significant glance between them, a softer look, or even a touch out of sight of any eyes but mine. I looked across at Jessica’s dad, calmly forking potato salad into his mouth. He caught my eye and smiled at me and I dropped my gaze, feeling hot in the face. All around me, everyone was behaving as they always did; Angus and Mrs. McGaskill talking, although not exclusively to each other, Mr. McGaskill eating and helping me and Jessica to seconds. I felt as if I were sitting alone, behind a plate of glass; able to observe but totally removed from their world.
After dinner, Jessica and I carried the plates into the kitchen and washed up, as we were expected to do. The kitchen window was wide open and a cloud of moths and insects flew loopily around the unshaded kitchen lightbulb. I went to the kitchen sink and jammed the plug into the plughole. Jessica crashed the plates down beside me and leaned forward, her blonde hair swinging towards me.
"Tonight," she whispered.
I could see the lightbulb reflected in both of her eyes and for a strange moment, it seemed as if the light itself was shining out of her pupils.
"What?"
"It's tonight," she said. "We'll do it tonight. The ritual. It's perfect - it's a full moon. It's the most powerful time. We've got to do it tonight or it won't work."
I struggled to show - what? Enthusiasm? Agreement? In truth, the shock of seeing Angus and Mrs. McGaskill had driven any concerns about Jessica's plans out of my head. At last I managed to paste a smile on my face.
"Yeah, okay. What shall we do?"
She looked annoyed. "Maudie, I've been telling you for the past week. Why don't you listen to me?"
"Sorry," I muttered. I reached for the plates and began to wash them, as much to have something to do with my hands as because I wanted to help.
"What's the matter with you, anyway? I saw you at dinner, sitting all quiet. What's up with you?"
I opened my mouth to tell her. Then I closed it again. "Nothing."
She lost interest. The stones were all to her; I could tell. She was there already – in her head – under the white moonlight, chanting to the night air.
"We'll sneak out at half eleven," she said, leaning close to me again. She was almost whispering. "Can you get a torch? Oh, never mind, don't worry, I know where one is. Meet me out the front of the house... No, that's too close, they might see us. Meet me at the start of the track and we'll go up together."
I nodded, helpless in the face of her obsession. I rinsed the last plate under the tap and watched the glob of dirty foam slide back into the washing up bowl.
"Maudie." It wasn't a question.
"What?"
"You're not going to let me down, are you?"
"No," I said.
"Are you?"
For a moment she sounded like her mother and that made me even angrier. "No."
I slammed the plate down on the draining rack and it broke, clean across. The two pieces fell to the floor, and smashed into smaller pieces. Jessica and I looked at each other in shock and then we both burst out laughing. We were still laughing when the adults came into the kitchen with questions and exclamations and for those few minutes, it was okay.
Most nights after dinner, we all congregated in one of the living rooms, normally in the McGaskill’s cottage, as they had a small black and white television. Sometimes Jessica and I played cards or occasionally Scrabble, or we read, or talked or squabbled quietly in the corner. Tonight though, Jessica announced that she was going to bed early and so was I.
"Are you sickening for something?" said her mother, laughing and going to feel her forehead. Jessica jerked away.
"No, I'm just tired."
"You're never tired. What are you planning?"
I felt first a thump of panic and then, almost immediately, a surge of relief. Tell your mother, Jessica, and then she won't let us go - and I won't have to walk up to the hill in the dark, small and scared.
"I'm not planning anything," said Jessica in a scolding sort of voice. She managed not to look at me while she spoke. "I want to read my new book."
"Okay, then. Don't stay up too late. I'll be up at nine thirty and I want that light to be out, understood?"
Jessica nodded, her mouth solemn. I felt a giggle build up in me, despite myself.
"What about you, Maudie?" said Angus. I noticed that his sunburnt nose was peeling. "Are you tired enough for an early night too?"
I shook my head. Jessica glared at me from behind her mother's shoulder. I tried to make a 'calm down' face without the adults noticing.
"I'm a bit tired," I said carefully. "But I want to watch TV for a bit."
Jessica grabbed me out in the corridor when I went to get myself a biscuit. "What did you say that for?" she hissed. "We both have to go to bed early so we can both sneak out."
"I know," I said, shaking off her hand. "But if we'd both gone at the same time they would have known something was up. Come on, Jess, we never want to go to bed normally, do we?"
She looked at me and smiled suddenly. "Alright, you're right. Smarty-pants! But don't really fall asleep, will you? Remember we're meeting at the start of the track at half past eleven."
Again, I felt a little thrill of fear. I didn't want to do this. I was too scared. I watched Jessica’s hand slide around the newel post as she turned the corner. That was the last time I ever saw her.
Jessica needn't have worried that I would fall asleep. I lay in my narrow bed, watching the tree branches outside my window throw their shadows across my bedroom ceiling. My mind would not stop; it threw up a cavalcade of images from the day. My father kissing Mrs. McGaskill. Jessica's shining eyes. The endless field of corn where I'd crouched and wandered for hours. I lay on one side, then another, flipping my pillow in a vain attempt to find a cool patch of cotton. I kept squinting at my watch. I heard Angus come up the stairs at about half past ten and the creak of floorboards as he made his way to the bathroom, and then back down the stairs afterwards. Only an hour to go. My stomach was clenched and my hands were rigid fists beneath the covers.
At eleven fifteen, I got out of bed and began to get dressed. The darkness pressed itself around me but I didn't dare turn on a light. I tried to lace up my plimsolls with shaking fingers and couldn't form the knots - in the end I just shoved the ends of the laces inside the shoe. I fumbled for the torch and made my way over to the door.
The house seemed bigger in the dark. The hallway was endless; it stretched off into near eternity. I inched my way along the floorboards, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I was breathing shallowly but, despite this, my intake of breath seemed to boom around the house, filling the silent rooms with a rush of noise.
The beam of the torch washed over the front door, illuminating my shaking fingers as I reached for the handle.
I got one foot outside, onto the cold stone of the doorstep. The night sky was huge and black and shining coldly with stars. I stood for one frozen moment, with one leg in and one leg outside. Then I retreated inwards, crying quietly. It was just too dark, too quiet, too scary. I pushed the door so that it almost shut and stood with my head against it, my tears dripping on the floor.