Part Three Summer 1691 – Winter 1692

PART THREE SUMMER 1691 – WINTER 16921

Overwhelmed by an insurmountable panic my heart almost burst as Griggs’ cart drew from my sanctuary of the farm, John and all he had meant to me evaporating into lonely memory. As we reached the high road cart was halted sharply hurling me forward.2

‘Get out, climb down,’ she ordered, the needle voice slicing my despair. 3

I landed heavily and felt my bundle flung unceremoniously towards me, followed by the thud of Mama’s chest. 4

‘If there’s anything left of you in my house,’ she stated, ‘William will give it to Parris, he and Salem should know you for what you are.’ She spat noisily, narrowly missing my face, ‘and don’t count on that inadequate husband of mine defending his little whore, or acknowledging your bastard. You’re a fool, girl, you really are. Well, William?’5

Griggs leered once more, flicked his whip and they galloped off into the hotly descending darkness. 6

The oppressive heat grew as I trudged wearily onwards. Wrapped in my heavy cloak, shawl and apron and lugging my bundle, the perspiration poured furiously into my eyes, my hair swiftly sweat smeared and my belly in rebellion. I could feel the irregular shifting within me and longed to rest. I prayed no one would see me carrying my world on my back, my cheek smeared with blood, enveloped in overlarge winter clothes. Vainly I tried to gather my memories to evoke John; where he was sleeping, was he missing me as much I craved him. Not twenty-four hours before I’d listened to the rhythm of his breathing convinced my world would smash. Each step fell into a nightmare of pain. My energy increasingly sapped by desperation and sheer anger. Not only would I face the task of explaining my return, but I’d also need to decide how to continue with the masquerade of my condition. In my heart I felt certain John would seek me out, but I dreaded that woman’s callousness. She didn’t deserve to be his wife, she didn’t deserve anything but she was right, no one would believe my word against hers. 7

The moon glimmered wanly in the increasing darkness, and the shadows stretched long and lean; every few minutes I needed to rest, squatting to gather what strength I could. Usually the journey was easily less than an hour’s walk, but I’d already been trudging for nearly two hours when I finally espied the outskirts of the Village, the outlines of the homes rising darkly grim in the thick, inky gloom of the night. Embracing the shadows I was grateful the village seemed asleep, avoiding the discomfort of the sticky night. Smeared in darkness it was disturbing and haunting, I rarely ventured outdoors at night it would be automatically assumed we were sinning. This was an alien adventure, and one I wasn’t anxious to repeat. By day the familiar formed immense proportions in the shadows, new sounds, creaks, scrapes, gasps and groans echoing through the stillness. Eventually I found myself outside the Parsonage itself hushed and still, puzzling how to wake little Betty or even Tituba. I knew she still slept in the kitchen, and even though I never cared much for the solicitude of the Indian slave, she would do what she was told for little Betty’s sake. Collecting a handful of dirt I flung it hopefully towards my cousin’s window, watching the pathetic shower scatter and miss her frame. Sapped of my strength, I could no more throw accurately than I could walk another mile, yet desperation can prove seductive and I was determined to rouse little Betty. Shower followed shower until a smattering finally rattled the window and a small white face peered out inquisitively and frightened. I waved my kerchief anxiously to attract her attention, praying she’d quickly realise who her visitor was. 8

‘Betty,’ I hissed. ‘It’s me, please, let me in.’9

‘Abby?’ her voice was incredulous. ‘What are you doing here at this time?’10

‘Never mind for now, please, Betty, please, just let me in. I need your help.’11

‘Dear lord, it can’t be time now can it?’ she obviously thought the baby was due and I’d sought her out to help. Her face vanished, the window was gently closed and within a minute she stood by the open kitchen door, her arms wrapped around me as we both failed to stifle our tears.12

‘Oh Abby, what’s happened? Have you told Mr Proctor about the baby?’ 13

‘No, John’s in Boston, she’s put me out Betty, that woman’s put me out on the high road. I’ve walked all the way with my things.’14

‘Oh lord Abby, and you as you are. How are you?’ her eyes were large and rounded, but I didn’t desire conversation, I craved sleep. 15

‘I’ll tell you everything Betty, but not now. Don’t worry, it isn’t time for the child yet, but, please, some water, I’m parched.’16

‘Miss Betty?’ a soft dark voice spoke from behind, Tituba appeared sleepy eyed and blinking. 17

‘Tituba, it’s Abby, she’s sick. Heat a kettle, she’s come back to us, she needs our help, but we must be quiet. We mustn’t wake Papa, explanations can wait until later on. Come on, Abby, let’s get you upstairs.’ My small cousin’s calmness was incredible, little panicked her, her tone unquestionable. ‘Tituba, bring up Abby’s belongings when you’ve heated some water, and don’t say a word to anyone. If you do, I’ll whip you, and don’t think I won’t. And no one must know anything about Abby, you hear me?’18

She pushed me gently up the staircase, I hated to think what Parris would say when he discovered my return. I prayed his fear of John’s knowledge of his lust might still serve as protection and he wouldn’t ask too many questions. Little Betty’s calm demeanour never ceased to surprise me; she was barely thirteen years old, had led a strictly controlled Puritan life, rarely leaving the confines of Salem, and yet here she was, unphased by the nocturnal reappearance of her pregnant cousin, newly abandoned and driven out by her lover’s irate wife. The small deft fingers gently placed me upon a stool, untying my filthy bonnet, unhooking my sweaty cloak and smoothing back my damp, dirty hair. Tituba brought up basins of water, clean linen and a hot beverage, and within half an hour I was clean and refreshed, wearing a fresh shift, and sipping heated milk. Betty was combing through my newly washed hair when the door flew open and Parris stood in the doorway, candle in hand, a look of intense surprise upon his face. Hastily I pulled my shawl about me, little Betty’s arms snaking about my neck.19

‘Betty!’ he demanded, his tone incredulous. ‘What’s this? Abigail? What on earth are you doing here? What’s happened? Has Proctor put you out? I knew he would. Have you displeased him?’20

‘Papa,’ smiled Betty, running to her father and taking his hand within her own. ‘It’s not like that, Abby’s sick. Goody Proctor’s sent her home because she’s sick. Goody Proctor’s said Abby had to go. It was Goody Proctor sent her home, not Mr Proctor, he’s away.’ 21

‘Hmm,’ he sounded sceptical. ‘Where’s Proctor gone? Were you insolent? That tongue of yours has always been too sharp. You weren’t slovenly I hope?’22

‘I’ve been ill uncle, I’ve been sick a lot lately. Mr Proctor left for Boston on business this morning, he wouldn’t have put me out, but Goody Proctor feels I may pass my sickness on to her infant. That’s why she’s sent me home. I haven’t given her any reason to dismiss me, I’m a good housekeeper, just you ask Mr Proctor when he returns. I’m sorry uncle Parris, but I’ve no where else to go.’23

‘And why should she turn you out at this ungodly hour?’ 24

‘I, I, think it was because I was sick again and, and she lost her wits with my being ill. You know she’s been sick herself and isn’t fully recovered yet. She threatened to whip me for being sick all day, she can’t tolerate a maid who’s always sick, and so she put me out. I’m sure once Mr Proctor’s home again, he’ll tell you how it is.’25

‘Papa,’ entreated Betty, still grasping his hand. ‘Abby can come home, can’t she? She’s clearly ill, anyone can see that. And she’s walked all the way from the farm, she’s worn out. Say she can come home Papa, please. I’ve missed her so much, you know how lonely I’ve been since she went to work for Mr Proctor. Can she stay? Please say she can Papa, at least until she’s well again? Please Papa?’ she turned her large aqua eyes upwards, brimming with well-practiced tears and I knew he’d yield. 26

‘Hmm,’ he repeated. ‘And what if Proctor turns up demanding to know why you’re no longer his maid?’27

‘When Mr Proctor arrives, Uncle, I’ll speak to him and tell him what’s happened. He doesn’t know anything about this, as Betty says it was Goody Proctor who put me out, not Mr Proctor. I can’t help being sick Uncle. Goody Proctor’s never pleased with me, she’s not like Mr Proctor, I always please him.’28

‘No, I’m sure she isn’t,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Well, Abigail, you may stay until you’re well, as Betty says, she’s missed you and I don’t like to see her unhappy. Well, go to bed, both of you. I don’t want to be disturbed anymore, you’ve woken the whole household girl.’29

With Parris gone, Betty embraced me once again. Delighted to have me returned, even though she discerned my heart was crumbling, little Betty was determined to protect me. A tiny, indiscernible voice of guilt gnawed at my small cousin’s conscience, she still felt she hadn’t done sufficient to protect me from her father. 30

‘Abby, did she throw you out because she found out about the baby?’31

‘I think there’s more to it than that Betty. She’s always hated me and now she knows about the baby, she hates me even more. But Betty, we all know he doesn’t love her; when she found out about the baby she had Griggs examine me for proof.’32

‘So he knows as well? Oh Abby, how can you hope to keep it a secret now? Look at you, your belly’s definitely bigger, you’re finally starting to look pregnant, I’ll have to let out those gowns again. I don’t know how we can hide the baby from Papa. I need to think,’ she pondered, her small face creasing. 33

‘Betty, can we talk about this in the morning? I’m so sorry, but my belly’s uncomfortable, the child’s restless, I’ve felt it stir all the way here.’34

‘No Abby, I’m sorry, but I need to think how to protect you. The only thing we can do is say you’re ill and you stay here until the baby arrives. We can tell Mr Proctor you’re sick when he asks and you can’t return. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you, Betty and Mercy will help, and Tituba will do as I tell her. Papa won’t question me, don’t you worry about him, he’ll leave us alone. You can stay here; I’ll look after you and when the baby’s born we’ll be with you. Oh Abby, I’ve missed you so much.’ Finally my small cousin’s strength evaporated and she burst into spurts of emotion. As in childhood we curled together, although I was troubled by dreams of John watching that woman casting me out. His name on my lips I opened bleary eyes half expecting his, the dark hair tumbling about his shoulders and his regular breathing, but instead I found my cousin’s childish face resting beside me, and my tears soaking into her hair. 35

News flies through Salem, and within an hour of waking, Mercy and Betty Hubbard appeared, desperate for my history.36

‘But how can she do that to you?’ demanded Mercy angrily.37

‘She can do that,’ explained the reasoning voice of Betty Hubbard, ‘because Abby’s pregnant by her husband. I said you should’ve told him, Abby, didn’t I? This would never have happened if you had.’38

‘Oh Betty please don’t lecture me, I know what I should have done, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. He’ll be back tomorrow, and he’ll come for me, I know he won’t be happy she’s put me out.’ 39

‘Well, he’ll find he has a new maid,’ mumbled Betty. ‘Mary Warren’s already taken your place. Uncle Griggs said he’d take her there this afternoon. I’ll be glad to be rid of her sneaking ways, I swear she spends more time listening behind doors than anything else, she’s dangerous, Goody Proctor’s welcome to her.’40

‘What? I’m replaced?’ 41

‘Ah Abby, did you honestly expect you’d go back to Groton? Do you really need me to explain everything to you? She’s put you out because you and Proctor,’ she paused slightly, ‘because you and her husband have spent the past few months rolling about together, and not because you’re a poor housekeeper. I don’t care what he says about the state of their marriage, but she can’t have him being unfaithful and she’ll put it around you’re slovenly you know that. She’ll blacken your name all she can and I doubt you’ll be lucky to work again. Anyway, she’s safe with Mary Warren, I can’t see Proctor being interested in her.’42

‘John’s not like that, he loves me,’ I snapped, but even as the words formed upon my lips I knew they sounded trite and hollow.43

‘Oh Abby, God love you, but you’ve got to grow up. I know we’ve told you often enough it’s evident he feels something, but be realistic, do you honestly expect he’ll fetch you back? How can he go against her? She’s still his wife, and you know how Salem talks. Do you really expect John Proctor to run after the skirts of his maid after his wife has put her out? How would that look to the gossips? It won’t take them long to guess at a truth, and be honest, they won’t be too far wrong now will they?’44

It was hard to hear, but in my heart I knew she was right. In spite of his prosperity John was not immune from castigation and lechery was still a crime in our society. Even so he’d sworn so often during those long love filled hours of darkness to protect me, and I doubted he’d leave me sink.45

I spent the remainder of that first day floating in and out of consciousness. Parris didn’t bother us, seemingly accepting little Betty’s explanation without question. She sat with me throughout the day, bringing her sewing and books as I rested. A solicitous nurse, she knew I needed silence and sleep, at least I could see John in my dreams. The following morning saw me awake early and restless, a silent sentinel knowing John would probably pass through on his way home. But as the hours melted there was no sign of either him or Corey; I rejected all her comforts, I wanted John, nothing else. 46

‘Abby, you must eat, you can’t starve yourself, think about the baby,’ muttered little Betty as I turned another wasted bowl away. 47

‘I’m not hungry Betty. I’m sorry, but I can’t stomach more than milk.’48

‘Oh Abby, perhaps he’s delayed a day.’ But he wasn’t, and as the weekly Thursday lecture dawned I prayed he’d attend. News of my return had become public knowledge sooner than I’d desired, thanks to Mary Warren telling the village of her new position. 49

As ever little Betty fussed about, tying and tucking until she was convinced I wouldn’t draw undue attention, but I knew my constant look of despair would arouse the gossips. 50

‘There Abby, you’re done. Are you sure you really want to do this? You know how long the lectures can be.’ 51

‘I’ll be fine Betty, I will. I just need to see John. He must know what’s happened.’ 52

‘Hush, don’t upset yourself. Now come on, take my arm.’ I allowed myself to be guided and faced the warm late summer sunshine with my head high, let them stare, all they’d see was a sickly girl off to prayers with her cousin and friends.53

We took our places inside and waited for Parris. My eyes bored into the doorway, expecting John, his arms about the shoulders of the boys, and even as the bell tolled the hour and Parris opened his mouth I still waited, oblivious. Occasionally Betty prodded me to join in with prayers and psalms in case my distraction was noted, but I didn’t hear a line of Parris’ habitual hell fire. I couldn’t believe John had forsaken me, and my heart felt fit to fracture.54

The congregation began to file out and I felt the world spin very slowly about my ears. My throat constricted and my eyes filmy with tears, I stumbled with hesitant steps as curious worshippers stopped to stare, one or two passing polite remarks. My breathing grew laboured, and moving like an old woman, broken with grief I finally reached home where the girls undressed me, incoherent with sadness. All I could do was call out his name, but he didn’t appear, and I fell into delirium; sweat drenched and screaming. Little Betty’s frightened face told me she feared I’d finally lost my wits. And still there was no word or sight of John in Salem. I can’t remember details of those pain filled, desperate weeks of fever, delirium and downright rage. My head was packed with his image; John laughing, his rare bright smile, our first time, his sleeping face, but most of all his soft, meaningless words. His voice filled my ears, you can trust me, I will always protect you, fine words uttered in the dark to a gullible girl who’d believed everything he said.55

In time the fever broke and I ceased calling. My belly was dramatically swollen now, I couldn’t disguise our child and if John had deigned to visit me he wouldn’t meet the girl he’d left in August but an obviously pregnant woman. I heard from Betty or one of the girls that no Proctor had appeared in Salem since I’d returned. Only Mary Warren who always walked alone to and from Groton and it made me glad. I envied her, she could at least look at him every day, I was only fit to rot in my bed until the day his bastard chose to be born.56

Through Mercy I heard Mary Warren tell how John had eventually returned during the late afternoon of the third day, striding into his kitchen with a look of expectation. 57

‘Where’s Abby?’58

‘She displeased me,’ her smug response.59

‘What do you mean woman?’ he scoffed. ‘Abby’s always been an excellent housekeeper for me. Why’s Mary Warren here?’60

‘Abigail Williams was careless and lazy, I’ve told you that often enough. She was insolent, so I put her out,’ she countered boldly, staring him straight in the eye.61

‘What?’ his tone instantly heated. ‘Abby was never slovenly, she was always diligent, you could never find fault with her. I’m going to Salem, this is her home now, and I won’t have you going against my word woman. I warn you, I won’t have it, ’ his temper rising.62

‘She’s been gone two days, so I presume she’s back with her uncle,’ that woman snapped. ‘She’s not welcome back in this house. Mary’s my maid now.’63

At that point John ordered Mary Warren to leave and sent her outside, though typically she’d pressed her ear to the door to hear more of their increasingly heated conversation. Whatever passed between them became violent and abusive, whore, lechery, harlotry, fool, damnation, exposure and shame a constant chorus whilst John apparently used language Mary Warren had rarely heard before and certainly didn’t wish to hear again. Finally she heard the sounds of smashed crockery and upended furniture, the heavy, angry tread of boots crashing up the stairs and doors slamming but in spite of his temper he hadn’t ventured to Salem as he’d threatened, remaining at home, angry and brooding.64

Mary Warren had no love for her new master, she claimed he was rude, ignorant and ungrateful for all she did, and his sons wouldn’t even speak to her. Her mistress, on the other hand was kind, and she was fond of the youngest child who seemed so very different from his siblings. She claimed John had even taken his whip to her on several occasions, showing Mercy a mark across her arm. I couldn’t believe this, John had always been considerate, sensitive and loving but Mary Warren found him foul tempered, disagreeable and dour. It was a universe from the warm home we’d created when I would read, the boys work at their letters and John gaze dreamily into the fire before we retired to our bed. Mary Warren said she didn’t know how Goody Proctor tolerated such a man who refused to smooth his face, let his hair grow unkempt and came in from the fields smeared in soil. It seemed little wonder they didn’t share a room; it was a miracle Goody Proctor could sleep in the same house as such a man. For all the comfort this brought me, John remained absent and I feared I wouldn’t see him again until after our child was born.65

Only the care and solicitude of the girls maintained my sanity as I watched my belly grow increasingly cumbersome. Little Betty informed Parris periodically of my illness, both she and Tituba maintaining they thought the sickness would break in the winter months. If Parris doubted his daughter he gave no indication, apparently claiming I was slowly recovering to anyone who enquired. I suspected my uncle was distancing himself away from the temptation he’d very nearly succumbed to last year. He was also a man of the cloth who took his vows sincerely; aware of his sin, his greatest fear was exposure. Thus he avoided me, content to let me fester with little Betty and Tituba. 66

The first snows of winter were blanketing the unforgiving earth when I awoke in semi darkness already drenched. My abdomen was gross, I’d always known a flat belly, and felt ugly and ungainly. Hot stabbing pains jerked me to reality as my body prepared itself to bear the child I’d hidden for so long. Vainly I yearned for the day I could be rid of my burden and be a girl again; I didn’t want a thickened waist, swollen, dripping breasts and a haggard child soaked demeanour. I wanted love, most of all I wanted John. 67

‘Betty,’ I hissed at my still sleeping cousin. 68

‘Abby? What is it?’ she mumbled, unwilling to drag herself away from her comforting dreams, ‘it’s still dark. Are you sick again?’69

‘No, Betty, but I think it’s time. I’m soaked and I have such, such,’ I paused as yet another dagger wrenched my guts.70

‘Oh dear lord Abby, are you sure? I thought you said it was next month. Dear Lord, don’t tell me the child’s early. I’ll have to tell Papa your sickness has returned and I can’t leave you alone. I’ll promise to pray on my knees all day for deliverance when you’re well. Now, lay still, if you can, try not to cry out if you can help it. I don’t know what to do with a baby, Abby, I really don’t. I’m sorry, I’ve no idea what to do, I’ll have to fetch Tituba. Lie there, I won’t be a minute, I promise.’71

I longed to scream, to shout, curse God for inflicting such immeasurable agony, incredulous of why it hurt so much to bring new life into the world. With the pain increasingly regular, Tituba assured her vexed little mistress, I’d become a mother in hours and John a father again.72

With Parris finally about his parish business Tituba vanished, swiftly returning with Betty Hubbard and Mercy, both laden and anxious. My body yearned to rid itself of the burden I‘d borne for so many long, deceitful months and I heaved, pushing with all the effort I could muster, free at last to scream, curse and grip little Betty’s hand until it grew white. I lacked all control of my actions, striving and heaving as the child slowly pressed its way into the world in a haze of blood and agony and I damned John for deserting me.73

‘Abby, come on, push,’ urged Mercy, as little Betty dabbed at my brow, wiping the sweat from my eyes. ‘I can see a head, push now, come on, your baby’s coming. Come on, Abby, that’s it.’74

One final wrenching scream, a great heaving spasm and I was finally rid of the parasite I’d fed for months. I was too exhausted to care whatever Tituba did in the seconds after, yearning simply to be clean of the debris of birth. 75

‘Abby, Abby, you have a daughter,’ laughed little Betty, her face awash with happiness, ‘and she’s perfect, oh Abby, take her, look, she’s so beautiful.’ She handed me the tiny swathed bundle, already washed free of blood and mess, her cord cut, her eyes and nose free of mucus.76

The kitten face was familiarly narrow, and the expression bore witness that like her brothers our daughter was John’s reflection. 77

‘Abby,’ little Betty smiled with delight, stroking my brow, and toying with the child’s tiny fingers. ‘What will you call her? She must have a name, what’s it to be?’78

I started momentarily, in all my concern for secrecy I hadn’t thought of this most basic of requirements. 79

‘Well? What’s it to be?’ prompted Mercy.80

‘Sarah. I’ll call her Sarah after my mama, she would’ve been so proud of her,’ I faltered, gazing at the miracle we’d created. ‘ Oh Betty, Mercy, look at her, she’s so, so exquisite.’ Her crown of hair was already her father’s and her eyes, a deep blue green. I wondered if they’d take on my brown or John’s olive. But the image of idyllic peace was not to last; seconds after I held her, Sarah’s petite features screwed with rage and she bellowed with unexpected volume.81

‘Dear lord, what’s wrong with her? She seemed content enough with little Betty, what have I done to upset her? All I’ve done is hold her, I haven’t hurt her.’ 82

‘Abby, listen to yourself,’ laughed Betty Hubbard, ‘she’s hungry, that’s all. You have to feed her. How would you like to be denied by your own mother? Come on, feed the child. You must have milk?’83

‘Well, yes, I think so, but what do I do? How will I know when she’s full?’ 84

‘For God’s sake Abby, just put her to yourself, she’ll know what to do. I’m sure her father’s been there often enough. Now feed the poor child, before she screams again. There, hold her, that’s it, just guide her lips to you. See she’s hungry, poor child. What are we going to do with you girl?’ Betty shook her head impatiently.85

‘Betty!’ momentarily stunned by her characteristic honesty, I gawped, even Sarah seemed to cease her guzzling but Betty remained unabashed.86

‘What? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly modest? You’ve just given birth girl, there’s no modesty in that. And don’t try and claim little Betty’ll be corrupted, you know John Proctor’s done far more than hold hands with Abby don’t you?’87

My small cousin exhaled impatiently, irritated by the faint condescension. ‘Of course I do. I’m not stupid and I’m not a child Betty, but it’s neither time nor place to discuss Abby’s private business with Mr Proctor now is it? And don’t think I’m offended because I’m not. You don’t shock me Betty Hubbard, I know perfectly well how Sarah was created, didn’t I say that day you finally admitted the truth that I’d known for ages Abby? I knew before anyone else, it was so obvious, I’m still amazed it took you all so long to realise. Couldn’t you see how they were every time they drove into the village?’88

‘Oh Betty, don’t remind me,’ I mumbled. In spite of Sarah’s comfort I still yearned for her father. ‘It’s done now. He’s abandoned me, both of us.’89

‘Hush Abby,’ she placated, patting my arm maternally. ‘I’m sure there must be good reason why he’s been absent. No one’s seen him at all. Is she still feeding?’ 90

Sarah continued to tug hungrily, her boneless gums demanding and insatiable, her face bathed in happiness and I gazed down at her downy head, brim full for this perfect embodiment of my time with John. Betty was accurate in her assessment, I had often watched him do the same, his eyes blissful and my heart ached for him to know of his daughter. 91

Seizing the momentary calm the girls began to clear the chamber, little Betty positioning herself to watch from the window as the congregation gradually began to file from the Meeting House, greeting each other and preparing to return to their homes. So great was my concentration on my feeding daughter I didn’t notice her softly slip away leaving the others restoring order. Bloody linen was stripped, a basket laid ready and a fresh gown prepared. Whenever I attempted to pull Sarah away she squalled angrily, her lips still seeking nourishment, recalling to mind the first appearance of that woman and her brat, but my daughter would never make a slave of me. Finally her lips ceased working as sleep began to caress her, although she seemed reluctant to let go, much like her father I thought, smiling at the memory, perhaps she’d inherited his nature. All I craved now was rest myself, but knew within hours she’d be removed, at least I had until dark.92

‘Is she done?’ whispered Mercy, peering at the contented face, milk daubing the tiny red lips.93

‘Yes. She’s full and I’m exhausted, I really am,’ I yawned, a great wave of fatigue sweeping over me. 94

‘Ah Abby you must be,’ smiled Betty. ‘You need to sleep. Come on, let me take her, she must get used to a crib, let me lay her in the basket for now. You know we must take her away later. She can’t stay here. You know what we agreed Abby?’95

Mutely I nodded, feeling the unwelcome tears pricking against my lids, I knew what we’d agreed, I didn’t desire it, but it would be for the best, for both of us. She deserved a life away from gossip and slander, and I wouldn’t be able to provide that for her. Betty lifted her gently away, soothing the stirring form and placing her tenderly into the basket which would see her removed. 96

‘Where’s little Betty?’ I wondered, noticing for the first time my cousin was absent. ‘Is Parris back?’97

‘She was watching out for him from the window then she suddenly hurried away. I’m sure she’ll be back soon,’ soothed Betty. ‘No, Parris isn’t back but he probably will be soon and we must leave you a while. But we’ll return later, you know what we must do, I swear to you we won’t let you down, you must trust us Abby.’98

‘Yes, Betty, I know, I know you won’t let me down.’ I started as the chamber door hesitantly opened and little Betty returned, her face shadowed. 99

‘Betty, where’ve you been?’ inquired Mercy. ‘Is anything wrong? Is your papa returned?’100

‘No,’ replied little Betty. ‘He’s gone to visit the Putnams, he won’t be home for hours. Abby,’ she turned to me, her face grave. ‘Abby, I’ve just seen Mr Proctor, he was with his boys.’101

‘What?’ I struggled to sit up, ‘you saw John? How is he? Did you speak to him? Did he ask for me? How is he? You didn’t tell him about Sarah did you? You really saw John? Himself?’ the questions tumbled from my lips.102

‘Hush, Abby, calm yourself. I saw him leaving the Meeting House with the boys so I waited for him outside. I knew he’d speak to me, especially as neither Mary Warren nor Goody Proctor was with him. And he did.’103

‘And?’ I demanded irately. ‘Tell me Betty, how does he look? How is he? Oh Betty, tell me, how is he?’104

‘He looks sad Abby, that’s about all I can say. He asked after you, said he’d heard you were sick and asked if you were better. I told him you’d be well soon. That was it Abby. He told me to tell you he was asking for you, but his face was so sad Abby, I felt sorry for him. He has a great beard, and his hair’s grown wild. The boys were asking for you as well. They didn’t say it, but I could tell they miss you Abby.’ She looked hopefully into my face, trying to convince me John hadn’t completely abandoned me, but if he cared so much for me, he would’ve visited Salem months ago.105

In spite of my misgivings Betty’s words presented me with a glimmer of future, perhaps I might see his face again, transformed as she suggested, my smooth cheeked boyman little more than a memory. John’s appearance apparently indicative of his feelings, I longed to show him what we’d created, our perfect sleeping daughter, content and filled with her mother’s milk. Even now there was the faintest trace of a new smile learning to wrap itself around her tiny lips. I was physically and mentally exhausted and lay back amid my pillows, fulfilled if excruciatingly sore. My child, John’s child had been born healthy, none but the occupants of this chamber knew of her existence. That woman and her physician lover might be aware of her possibility, but they would never know the truth of her life, and I for one intended to sustain their ignorance. And little Betty had spoken with John himself as I lay feeding our daughter, he’d been within yards, ignorant of the truth, and by all accounts, he looked sad, so Betty had said. 106

The girls eventually departed, Tituba returned to her chores and we made a contented domestic scene, the scrap of child slumbering gently in her basket, Betty sewing in her window seat and I dozing. According to little Betty the Putnams would probably invite Parris to dinner, safe in the knowledge Tituba would feed us. In spite of my anxiety to share my remaining time with our daughter, I slept much, and all too soon the early evening darkness shaded the chamber heralding her departure. 107

‘Abby,’ smiled little Betty, handing the stirring child to me. ‘How are you?’108

‘Very happy Betty, I really am. I can’t believe she’s so like her father,’ I replied smiling into my daughter’s face, and stroking her soft smooth scalp, already dark with down. ‘She’ll thrive. Is your papa back?’109

‘Yes, he came back about an hour ago.’110

‘Did he say anything? He doesn’t suspect does he?’111

‘No, Abby, I told him you were resting. He said he’d pray for your recovery, I told you Papa was changed Abby.’112

‘But he mustn’t know about Sarah. You promise me you’ll never tell him Betty, you will promise me that.’ 113

‘Don’t worry, he won’t hear anything from me Abby, and Mercy and Betty will lock their lips to the world.’114

‘But what about Tituba?’115

‘Never mind her, she knows I’d tell Papa to sell her if she went against me. She only a slave, I don’t love her.’116

‘If you’re sure Betty?’ I was serious. Sarah’s life was too precious already. ‘Now, did John say anything else to you?’117

‘No, Abby,’ she replied, softly anxious not to raise any feeble hopes within me. ‘I’ve told you everything he said. He asked how you were, I told him you were recovering and he didn’t say anything else.’118

‘And he looked unhappy?’ I was desperate for any form of solace.119

‘Well, he didn’t smile and his eyes were purple and heavy. I just felt he was sad in himself. He wasn’t as happy as I’ve seen him before. Neither were the boys, they were quieter than usual.’120

‘And wasn’t she with them?’121

‘No, they didn’t mention her, and I didn’t ask. Abby, I’ve told you all of this at least a dozen times now. I really can’t tell you anything else Abby, because there is nothing else. Now, is Sarah finished feeding?’122

‘I think so. She seems to be done. Oh Betty, look how beautiful she is. She looks so like John, she really does.’123

‘I think she looks like you Abby,’ commented little Betty sweetly.124

‘No, Betty, she’s the image of her father. She has his colouring; I can see his face in her. He’d love her so much. Who couldn’t? She’s so perfect.’125

‘Yes Abby, she is. Smell her warmth. We’re lucky she’s so healthy, and you’ve been lucky she was born so swiftly. Do you want me to bathe you? We won’t have to live a lie for much longer, you’ll be able to get up again in a day or so, and you can start to go out again, but you won’t go back to the farm, will you? You know you can’t leave me again.’ Her voice grew desperate.126

‘No, Betty, of course I won’t leave you. I know I can’t go back to Groton. Mary Warren has my place now and you know how much that woman hates me, in spite of how John may feel.’127

‘I know, and I know you’re sad without him, but I can look after you.’ Her voice so distant I could touch the loneliness in it.128

‘Hush Betty, I know you can,’ but before I could continue a scattering of earth against the window disturbed our discourse, Mercy and Betty Hubbard had arrived. I’d been dreading this moment, but I had to accept reality, Sarah could never have a home with me, but she would have a future. They were cloaked against the bitter night air, their faces set, each bearing a darkened lantern to guide them through the blanket of night. I cradled the child one final time, full of the milk I would no longer require, her eyes fanned with dark lashes looked into mine before she sighed contentedly, safe and warm. Little Betty had Sarah’s tiny possessions ready, all I had to do was lay her in her blankets and say farewell. 129

‘Betty, bring the basket to me please,’ I motioned. ‘I need to put her in myself. I must see Sarah safe before we’re parted.’130

‘Of course,’ replied little Betty, her voice already beginning to quaver, but fetching the basket closer. 131

‘What’s that paper?’ 132

‘Oh I put it there, it has Sarah’s name and her birth date. She should know the name you’ve given her. You’ve named her for your mama, she should keep it, it’s her name,’ replied Betty Hubbard gravely. ‘Now, Abby, we must go. I know you don’t want us to do this, but we must. I’m sorry Abby, I really am, perhaps if you’d told him? Oh I don’t know.’133

‘Let me keep her Betty, I see John so much in her. Oh, I can’t let her go like this,’ I began.134

But Betty was insistent. ‘You must Abby. There’s no choice. Perhaps when she’s older, you’ll see her about Salem and you’ll know her I’m sure. Who knows, one day you may be united again. Come on Mercy, we really must go.’135

I kissed the tiny cheek one final time, the salty tears dropping on to her soft skin, and she was ready. Betty and Mercy hugged me, promising to tell me all in the morning, and followed little Betty stealthily down the staircase, leaving me sobbing inconsolably, the tears rolling fatly, the grief insurmountable and indescribable; I‘d lost John and now I was losing his daughter136

Even though both little Betty and I wept all night, she was proved right, from the day of Sarah’s birth my recovery hastened. Within a day I was feeling strong enough to sit up for the first time since Autumn’s cooling breezes had graced us. Now, the winter snows blanketed the ground, but there’d be no need for the enveloping cloaks and shawls to disguise my belly, only to keep us warm. True to her word, little Betty bathed me, washing my hair as I had for John, combing it through her fingers and the girls returned with news of Sarah. They’d hammered on the door of an outlying farm before fleeing into the shadows. Eventually the young farmer had opened the door, peering out in to the darkness. Sarah had slept peacefully throughout but fortuitously chose that moment to emit a lusty yell. He’d spotted her basket, bringing his wife to the door to see for herself what lay before them. The girls reported the woman’s eyes had widened in disbelief as she realised a newborn child was on her doorstep, complete with blankets and clothes. 137

‘Ruth, there’s a paper here,’ he muttered bringing it closer to his light, ‘it says the child’s name is Sarah. Who’s brought her?’138

‘Probably some unfortunate girl, you know how it happens,’ she’d replied. ‘But she’s obviously been well cared for, there’s blankets and clothes but she can’t be more than a few hours old. She’s a beautiful child.’ With that they’d vanished, taking Sarah inside their farmhouse and her new life.139

With my strength returning I determined to show my face at the weekly lecture in the vain hope John appeared with the boys. Life would continue, I’d recuperate as Tituba took care of most of the household drudgery, leaving little Betty and I to fill our days with sewing and other menial tasks. I still enjoyed baking, it reminded me of John and the boys, but overall my life was filled with little but tedium. The prospect of a turgid lecture appeared a welcome respite for both of us. Little Betty appeared delighted as we bundled ourselves in our heavy cloaks to protect against the winter chills, the snows now thick and heavy underfoot. She finished dressing my hair and tied a clean apron around my already reducing waist, standing a pace back to scrutinise her efforts. ‘You look fine, Abby. Your cheeks have some colour at last and your eyes aren’t haunted. No one would guess you’d given birth recently.’140

‘Let them stare all they like, Betty. I’ve nothing to hide now, I’ve no secrets from anyone. Let them gawp all they will. I haven’t seen John in months, but I still don’t understand why he’s made himself such a stranger. I really don’t.’141

‘Yes Abby, I know,’ replied little Betty heavily, knowing the inevitable. 142

‘He did love me Betty. He loved me so much. I’m sure that woman’s trapped him somehow. He swore he’d protect me, and I know he would if he could. Oh Betty, I don’t know what’s happened to him. He promised me Betty, he promised me.’143

‘Hush, Abby, don’t upset yourself. It’ll all sort itself one day. Now come on, we’re ready. Hold up your head and look those goodwives in the eye.’ Betty’s small chin jutted determinedly.144

‘Betty, I wouldn’t survive this without you. I owe you so much, I really do.’ Her face brightened with happiness as she kissed me lightly on the cheek, placing her small hand within her own. 145

We took our places, and I did hold my head high, smiling to anyone who happened to glance in my direction and I could sense their minds toiling. I doubted if the full story of my dismissal would ever be made public, although that woman had determined to blacken my name rendering me more or less unemployable. I had my inheritance, although I feared Parris had helped himself to much of it already, and I did have the wage John paid me, piled inside my treasure box. Weekly we’d play out the charade of my discovering a small tower of coins on my pillow often with a folded paper bearing a single initial, occasionally a cut flower head or other small token, all of which I still keep.146

The girls smiled in welcome towards me, I hadn’t seen much of them since they’d delivered their news of Sarah, they’d been kept busy at home. Conversation forbidden, Betty Hubbard motioned slightly towards the direction of the door and I followed her gaze eagerly, hardly daring to build up expectation. Little Betty had been painfully accurate, he was so greatly changed I could barely recognise the man I’d so often awoken to. His beard had grown thick and untidy, his hair wild and even matted in places, his eyes dark smudges, and he was thinner than I’d ever seen him. But it was his expression that was most transformed, taciturn and unsmiling, an air of infinite trouble wrapped about him. Even the boys were grim faced, they’d grown since August, but they too were undeniably thinner and unloved.147

Silently they filed to their habitual bench, nodding slightly to some with the necessary levels of politeness, immediately bowing their heads. I prayed John would notice I was feet from him, but he kept his eyes trained downwards until Parris swept haughtily in as was his custom. Only then did John raise his eyes and glare so malevolently I knew he hadn’t forgiven him. He continued to watch my uncle intently as he droned endlessly along the all too familiar route of hellfire and damnation. It was Will who eventually drifted towards me, a smile entering his eyes, illuminating his whole face. I’d missed the boys, Mary Warren couldn’t teach them their letters, bake them sweetmeats and treats, play with them and show them affection. I was glad to see they could still smile; it had troubled me to see them so dismal. I grinned in return as John sensed they weren’t concentrating and followed the direction of their gaze.148

His face, so different from the man I’d parted from in the summer, turned to me, and his expression seared my soul. He didn’t smile openly as his sons, but the corners of his mouth upturned slightly as we momentarily locked. I yearned to take him in my arms, wash him, smooth his cheeks, trim that great mane, and tell him that we had the most beautiful daughter. Instead I briefly nodded my head towards all three of them and averted my gaze downward knowing I couldn’t risk anything else. The remainder of Parris’ lecture washed over me, and I longed to hear his voice, tell him the truth of her cruelty. I could sense he was watching me now, and I allowed myself to meet his gaze momentarily, an eerie recollection of the days before I knew him. 149

Eventually Parris decided we’d received sufficient condemnation and lowered himself to grant us a blessing. Silently we filed outside, small pockets of acquaintances forming as polite pleasantries were exchanged, the sharp tones of Thomas Putnam cutting through all others.150

‘Ah, Proctor, we haven’t seen much of you of late. What’s kept you all these months? Where’s Goody Proctor?’151

‘At Groton,’ replied John gruffly, just about maintaining a measure of politeness.152

‘When will you have that young child baptised?’ interrupted the inquisitive Goody Ann. 153

‘You mean my wife’s son Goody Ann?’ replied John tersely and I noted again how he openly refused to acknowledge the child as his own. ‘I daresay she’ll baptise him when the time’s ready,’ he continued, unwilling to be drawn further. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, my sons seem to have disappeared. Good day Putnam, Goody Ann.’ He strode away following the boys heading cheerfully towards where little Betty and I were loitering.154

‘Abby!’ greeted Will, always the more forward of the pair, ‘how are you? We miss you. Mary Warren can’t cook. We miss you. Don’t we John?’ he looked towards his elder brother who remained quiet, uncharacteristic tears glistening.155

‘Why John, what’s wrong?’ I bent towards him so no one else would hear, not even little Betty who was prattling happily with Will.156

‘Abby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry; we let you down that night. We promised Papa we’d look after you and we failed you. We failed you. If we’d been more vigilant you wouldn’t have left us. Papa whipped us when he came home. He cursed us, but we deserved it, we broke our word, we were cowards. Will you forgive us?’157

‘Hush, John, dry your eyes. It’s done. I’m well now. I’m back with little Betty. Why did your papa whip you?’158

‘Because they broke their word,’ interjected a quiet voice from behind. ‘They failed me.’ John was standing inches from me and at close range he looked even worse, his eyes red and bleary, his cheeks rough and his hair filthy, it mustn’t have known a comb or even a wash in weeks.159

I started. ‘Mr Proctor! You startled me. I’m glad to see you again. How are you?’160

‘As you can see, Abigail, as you can see,’ he replied enigmatically. ‘Boys, will you walk ahead and wait for me? Would you mind Betty?’161

‘Of course, Mr Proctor,’ smiled my cousin pleasantly, glancing towards Mercy and Betty Hubbard lurking nearby. ‘I’m glad to see you in Salem again. Goodbye.’162

‘Goodbye Betty. Wait quietly for me now boys.’163

‘Yes, Papa, Abby,’ smiled Will, ‘we’re glad to see you again, we all miss you.’ They vanished into the crowded path leaving me alone with him. I’d prayed and craved this moment, but suddenly felt awkward. 164

‘Abby,’ John’s tone was low, conspiratorial. ‘Wait for me in Parris’ stable, I know John Indian’s out. I saw him heading to the woods with Tituba.’165

‘Why the stable? What’s wrong with the Parsonage?’ I replied puzzled.166

‘Do you think Parris will have me near his house? I need to talk to you alone. There’s nowhere else. Go on, please.’167

‘Of course I’ll wait for you there.’168

He nodded, and spoke aloud. ‘It’s good to see you Abigail. I’m glad you’re recovered now.’169

‘Thank you Mr Proctor.’ I smiled politely and strode away, but my heart was brimming. The stable was peaceful when I slipped stealthily inside, the horse tethered and content in its stall, stood munching lazily. Within minutes I heard his tread as he stepped inside, barring the door. 170

‘Abigail,’ he began, clearly ill at ease.171

‘What happened? Why did you abandon me? You promised, you’d protect me but you’ve abandoned me. Why are you so altered? Your hair, that great beard, I hardly know you. Oh John, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much. She put me out and she beat me. Griggs was there, they know everything.’ I couldn’t help myself and flew sobbing towards him, craving to feel the familiar arms enfold me, but he stood stiffly unreceptive.172

‘Abby, hush, calm down,’ his arms held my shoulders awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry for what happened. I really am. I know I let you down. I’m so sorry.’173

‘It doesn’t matter John, she parted us then, but we can, we can be together again. You can visit me here, I can always slip away, Parris has barely seen me since I returned. We can find a way. We can.’174

‘Oh Abby, listen to yourself. I can’t visit you here, I can’t.’175

‘Why not? You didn’t care before. The last thing you said was you loved me. You loved me John Proctor. What’s different now?’176

‘Abigail, I did wrong in seducing you,’ he declared, but I interrupted him hotly.177

‘You did not seduce me! When did you seduce me? I won’t have you blame yourself. You never seduced me. I wasn’t a gullible child. I may have been a maid but I wasn’t a child. I was as willing and desperate for you. I came to you if you recall.’178

‘How can I ever forget Abby? How can I forget? You made me happier than I’ve ever known. But it’s over now.’ His voice was heavy, and I reached to stroke his roughened cheeks, my eyes awash.179

‘Over? No, John, no. We love each other. I love you. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute, I think of you. I love you John Proctor, you know that. Isn’t that enough?’180

‘But I still have a wife I can’t ever be free of. Oh Abby, it’s God’s will, I’m damned with her, I wish you could love me, but I can’t, I can’t. Abby, you must see that, I can’t be near you, I can’t see you again.’181

‘What? You can’t mean this, you’re my life.’ I was growing hysterical.182

‘Abby, don’t, I don’t care about myself. I’ve loved you, I’ve loved you like no other, but I can’t love you anymore. Abby, listen to me, I have a damned wife and I can’t go on with you.’183

‘Why do you keep saying you can’t? I don’t understand you. What’s changed? You didn’t care for any of this before. What does she matter? We matter John, we matter.’184

‘But we’ve sinned Abby, I’ve sinned!’ he thrust me away, holding me at arm’s length again. ‘I’ve sinned. I’ve lusted, broken my wedding oath, the Seventh Commandment. I’ve ruined you, I’m a common lecher.’185

I couldn’t believe why John was filled with self-doubt and recrimination. He wasn’t a lecher, he loved me, I didn’t care for sin, God’s law or any of that rubbish preached by Parris. None of it mattered; all that mattered was John. All I ever wanted was John, all I still want is John, I’ve never ceased wanting John.186

‘No, no you’re wrong, we did so much more than lust. What does it matters if we’ve broken any stupid commandment? I don’t care about any of that. You’re not a lecher, if you’re that then I am the whore she says I am. Is that it John? How can you believe what you’re saying? Do you think I’d raise my skirts for anyone? Allow any other man to know me? Do you really feel I’d do what we did with anyone else? Well? Do you John?’187

He looked at me shaking his head, but his silence was condemning and I backed away from him aghast, sickened.188

‘Dear God, you think, you do think I would. How can you, how can you feel that way John? You knew about Parris, you know what happened, and you swore you’d protect me and now you stand here, you tell me you can’t love me. And now I know you think I am the whore your wife calls me. How do you think that makes me feel John?’189

‘No!’ he stepped towards me. ‘I don’t. You’re wrong Abby. I don’t. I know you love me, and I, I, I loved you, but in Christ’s name Abby, I can’t continue, I can’t go on like this.’190

‘I am not a whore John Proctor and you’re no lecher. If only you knew how much I’ve loved you.’ I thought of that tiny warm form suckling contentedly, her father’s features so greatly etched upon her face, and now here he was, grown flesh but not himself.191

‘I know Abby,’ he reached forwards and finally enfolded me to him, the familiar heartbeat, pounding beneath the heavy tunic and shirt. I yearned to stroke him once more but I couldn’t resume my life with John quite as readily as I had hoped, circumstances, that damn woman, all stood in my way. ‘Oh, Abby, what can we do?’ he spoke miserably into my hair and I knew his face was awash with confusion and regret; none of this was turning out the way either of us had anticipated. I’d intended to tell him he had a beautiful daughter, but instead I was realising that woman’s influence was eroding his soul. I didn’t believe in God’s will, I wouldn’t accept it was God’s will had parted us, what kept us apart was that cold, frigid bitch of a wife who dared call herself Goody Proctor, and I hated her. 192

He raised my face towards his own, but I didn’t want him to kiss me, I didn’t want this unloved unkempt guilt filled creature, I wanted my John back.193

‘John, I don’t care. I just want to be with you,’ but even as I heard the words, I knew they sounded trite and childish.194

‘We can’t always have what we want Abigail, you know that.’195

‘Do you think I don’t know that? I haven’t seen you these months I’ve been sick. I’ve pined for you since she put me out. Do you know what she did to me? She and Griggs, they humiliated me. Griggs ran his hands all over me, and she whipped me John, she whipped me, and you say you’ve sinned. She’s evil.’196

John stared, ‘oh Abby, why would she do that?’197

‘Don’t you believe me John? Do you think I’d invent that?’ I demanded.198

‘No, no, Abby, I believe you. I know she’s cruel, believe me, I know what she’s capable of, and I’m sorry she did that to you. But if we hadn’t done what we did you would’ve been spared that humiliation. It’s my fault, we can’t go on.’199

‘What? Will you stop this? She’s evil John, she hates us. She tells anyone and everyone I’m a slatternly whore, and you know John, you know...’ I felt my eyes brimming again. 200

‘Oh, Abby, this can’t go on. I can’t do this, I can’t. There’s no future for us, no matter how we feel. No matter how I feel for you, I can’t ever be parted from her. What do you want me to do? Creep into Salem and take you against a tree in the woods, is that what you want? Is it?’ his eyes grew wet and heavy again, his feelings tearing him apart.201

‘I want you to love me John. As I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, but you turned your back on me John, you abandoned me. She said you wouldn’t come to me, she said you wouldn’t save me, she said you’d do nothing for me. How did she know that John? Tell me. How did she know that unless it wasn’t the truth? You don’t love me and I’ve given you all I can. Why are you being like this John? Why?’ I felt my voice rising pathetically, this was achieving nothing but showing us how we could break each other’s hearts.202

‘Because I can’t have you!’ he flung at me. ‘I can’t have you. I love you Abby, you must know that. I’ve loved you so very, very much, but I can’t have you. I haven’t abandoned you, I think of you every night when I’m in my bed. When I wake in the morning I see your face on my pillow, I hear your voice in my dreams, I feel your soft breathing in the night, but I know it’s folly, Abby, it isn’t real. I can’t have you and it’s tearing me apart. I can’t have my heart, and I can’t live like this. I can’t. If only you knew the hell I endure with that woman, but it’s judgement Abby. I’ve sinned and now I’m punished for it. I deserve it. Dry your eyes, I must return to the boys, they’ll be wondering where I am. The boys won’t tell her they’ve seen you, they barely speak to her. We’re so low, but that’s how it must be Abby, it’s God’s will.’203

‘It is not!’ I shrieked at him wildly. ‘It is not God’s will! We’re not damned. We will not be damned John Proctor. You and I loved each other. We do love each other. We’ll find a way. I know you John Proctor, I know you. We‘ll find a way if you want. How can you let yourself listen to her? Do you want her? Well? She doesn’t love you, you know that, yet you let her tell you what to do. That’s not my John Proctor, the John Proctor I know and still love. Since when were you a coward following the orders of your damned wife? When did you grow afraid of her? What’s happened to you? You’ll just let her rule you will you? She and Griggs? They belittle you and you let them, they’re laughing in your face whilst you fester in your self-pity. If you loved me as you say you do, you’d damn them both.’ I blazed with assurance now, I couldn’t bear seeing John so uncharacteristically defeated.204

‘Oh, Abby, calm down, come here,’ he sighed, drawing me close, finally brushing the tip of his finger against my nose in his old, familiar gesture, reigniting my spark of hope. ‘You’re right. Why should we let her ruin our lives? Oh Abby I’ve missed you, how you rage with conviction. Perhaps there will be a way for us, and if there is, you more than anyone else will find it,’ he paused, his gaze searing into my face, until the olive eyes were suddenly lit with life. ‘Yes, you’re right; she shouldn’t blight us any more. But we must part, for today at least.205

Gently he brushed his lips against my own, and I felt the familiar stirrings of desire rising once more; his body could never disguise his emotions. I couldn’t stop myself from ranging my hands where I shouldn’t, just to hear the groan of pleasure emitting from his lips. He smiled playfully down at me. ‘You are a wicked girl Abigail Williams. You’ll find yourself in trouble one day.’ His eager fingers already beginning to range beneath my shift and I felt him grasp where his daughter had so recently nestled.206

‘It’s too late for that Mr Proctor. But,’ I slapped his questing hand away from my skirts, ‘nothing else, not today, you’ll have to wait.’207

‘You tempt me Abby, you always do,’ he stared hard at me, but his eyes were soft. ‘I wish to God sometimes you wouldn’t, but I’m glad you do, I can’t help myself.’ I watched his face as I continued what I shouldn’t until his breath grew hard and rapid. He knew I could and would excite his body and the conflict raged in his face between lust, desire, love and his stupid, stupid sense of guilt. When he was done we lay content in the stable for some minutes, all too aware of what we were about. Next time I wouldn’t deny him anything, I’d never be done with John Proctor.208

‘I must go Abby, I really must, I,’ he seemed at a surprising loss for words, standing to rearrange himself. 209

‘I know,’ I smiled up at him, lazy and beguiling, knowing he’d return soon, no one else pleased him as I did. 210

‘Come on, stand up, here, let me,’ he began to button my bodice neatly, restoring the fallacy of the puritan maid once more. ‘Now, I really must go Abby, but I promise you, I will be back,’ and he was gone, silently closing the stable door leaving me alone as ever, but not without hope. I would have my way, no matter who fell, I would have John and the rest of the world could be damned for all I cared. I was selfish, self centred and completely dominated by my love for John. He was my life.211

Little Betty was already seated in Tituba’s kitchen sipping hot milk to warm against the chill winter afternoon by the time I returned. 212

‘Ah, Abby, what kept you? We waited ages for you. The boys aren’t happy, Abby. They said Mary Warren can’t cook, she spends most of her time with the baby and they asked if you could go back to them. Mr Proctor said nothing when he returned, but at least he was smiling. Has he asked you to return with him? You won’t leave me again, will you?’213

‘No, Betty, don’t worry, I can’t go back to Groton whilst that woman’s there. Ah Betty, she’s the cause of all this. Without her John and I could be together with Sarah. We’d be our own family. I wish things would change.’214

‘Perhaps they will. The future might see things differently,’ replied Betty.215

‘But I can’t wait for a future of possibilities. I want our life back,’ I retorted sharply and immediately regretted it; my cousin did not deserve my scorn and frustration. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it Betty. I’m just tired of having no choice. We’re too young, they think I’m a child, but I’m not a child. I’m a mother, I’ve known the full love of a man, I’m a grown woman but I have nothing, your Papa has control of my money, that woman has control over whether I see John or not, and I can’t even control my own feelings.’216

‘Oh Abby, calm down. Things will change,’ soothed Betty. Poor child, she’d endured so much since I’d returned from the farm in the dying summer. I knew Betty loved my company, her existence was lonely whilst I lived in the bliss of those months with John, all Betty had was Tituba. All too frequently Betty was thrown on her own ingenuity, occasionally sharing her hours with Betty Hubbard, Mercy and the girls in the Meeting House. But my cousin was thirteen; the girls were older and sometimes barely included her in their confidences. They didn’t exclude her, far from it, little Betty was much loved but her conversation wasn’t necessarily that of her elders, and her role became primarily passive as they gossiped about future husbands, sweethearts, lovers, indiscretions and follies. That was all any of us had to look forward to in our drab existences, a husband to rescue us from the drudgery of our maidenhood. I’d found the man I desired, it didn’t matter to me if he bore the shackles of wedding vows personified in that woman, I wanted John, I wanted him more than life itself.217

We all had our fancies; even cynical Betty Hubbard desired a husband to remove her from the domestic tedium of her life with Rachel and Griggs. Poor Betty Hubbard was worked harder than any slave. It was understandable she yearned for freedom in the arms of a gentle suitor; I couldn’t blame her for that.218

All too often we wondered what life held for us and like so many others we desired to know the future, although we were all too aware of the perils we might face if we trifled with the realms of superstition and the unknown. Even so we wanted to know more than we were granted and tales of divination and its consequences were rife. We’d heard many accounts of sporting with Satan or practising witchcraft, all too often the accused were those on the fringes of our societies, such as Bridget Bishop, an independent soul of uncertain temper. She perennially wore a scarlet bodice, a clear indication of her attitude towards reputation or public opinion, but sported her whore’s symbol with insolent pride. 219

My uncle liked to elevate himself; he’d been in dispute with the village for months over his demands for extra firewood and a greater salary befitting a Harvard educated man, albeit one who hadn’t completed his degree. In John’s eyes Parris was a greedy hypocrite, his treatment of me appalling and unacceptable, and John was, as all Salem acknowledged an honest man, his name clear, in spite of that woman’s slanders. She was always careful not to condemn him, in spite of their obvious mutual dislike, it seemed avarice ruled her more than anything else. She had status in our community because she was Goody Proctor, he was a prosperous and flourishing farmer, one of the most successful in the county, though from the way John presented himself at times, it seemed he was one of the poorest.220

Our society believed devoutly in God’s will and God’s law, it also divined we could not acknowledge the existence of God without accepting the existence of Satan, and Satan lived in the minds of many with frequently fatal consequences. I’d heard of executions in Wenham and Andover, unfortunates hung upon the gallows until their bones were picked clean by rapacious crows. I didn’t accept any of these accused were in league with the devil or were witches. I was sceptical regarding God’s will, and didn’t believe it was God’s will stated John should fester in an unhappy union, his sons made miserable by that cruel and unfeeling woman. John often told me his union was typical of many in our society, made for profit, land and most definitely not for love. The majority of these usually floundered on happily enough superficially, producing the requisite heirs, ensuring dynastic successions, and John’s appeared no different. To all of Salem they seemed like so many others, two healthy sons produced in their early years, a thriving farm, but rarely appearing in public together. When they did, they never touched, or rarely even spoke. At prayers John was always flanked by his sons, barely glancing in the direction of the woman who’d never shared his bed. Even in a society thriving on gossip and rumour, no one passed remarks regarding the empty marriage that was so evident to me. He deserved so much more than her loveless soul, he really did.221

We had seen accusations of witchcraft, even in Salem, small wonder when many viewed an accusation as a convenient excuse to discredit enemies or even be rid of them altogether. Bridget Bishop had faced accusation some years back, following a public gagging and whipping. Miraculously she had escaped the hangman’s rope owing to the lack of evidence or even witnesses. Even those considered upright and God fearing were afforded little or no protection from rumour and slander, no one was safe regardless of age or reputation, all were vulnerable, particularly regarding land. In Salem, avarice, covetousness and sheer naked jealousy raged beneath our veneer of respectability.222

One victim of such whispering had been Susannah Martin, who had rarely wasted her breath on me. Apart from spending much of her time engaged in legal wrangles over the will of her father, Goody Martin had also faced witchcraft and infanticide charges. It was only through the loyalty of her blacksmith husband who had countered these blatantly false charges with threats of slander that Goody Martin had been cleared. Yet mud proverbially sticks, leaving the increasingly bitter and cantankerous woman a figure of gossip widely rumoured to be skilled in magic and dark arts.223

Weeks melted into tedium, nothing in our lives ever seemed to alter; without John I drifted, spending my days with Betty and eating out my heart. Following our reconciliation he began taking interest in his appearance again, hacking the knots and mats from his hair and removing the great beard he’d sported all winter. This ignited my heart, John’s shaving could only indicate one thing, I prayed I could once again stroke my fingers along those smoothed cheeks and see my boyman returned, yet for weeks I never saw him alone. At prayers we’d exchange a brief smile, some snatched pleasantry and he’d be gone, only his eyes hinting of a future. I was now fully recovered from Sarah’s birth; my waist gaining its shape and my milk had finally dried. At last I presented an image of a respectable Puritan girl, guileless and industrious, who would divine I’d tasted a man, borne his bastard and would have traded my soul to have him again. To the world I learned to dissemble, smile respectfully towards my elders, doing Parris’ bidding without question. I didn’t care for his ridiculous notions of respect, because no one would ever respect me. I was a possession to be passed from guardian to suitable husband, a fate I privately rejected, craving only John.224

Mary Warren again reported she was unhappy at the farm; the boys were rude and had ceased speaking to their mother unless their father forced them. They tormented the wretched girl, placing live creatures in beds and pots to frighten her. Her daily screaming fits angered John who threatened to put her out, cursing her as the laziest, most useless jade he’d had the misfortune to encounter. Only Goody Proctor’s kindness and strong words protected her, raising her voice to that man, telling him in no uncertain terms that Mary was her maid, he would leave her alone, she’d have Mary and no other. He didn’t need reminding of the slatternly harlot she’d endured during her sickness. If he desired that again then he could rot in hell as he deserved, but Mary was staying. John had then thrown another basin at her head, and stormed out, cursing the two bitches who blighted his life, God and the day he’d married. She said he’d become unbearable; his only civil request an occasional demand for clean linen. Her tales of his anger comforted me. The more I heard of Mary Warren’s disgruntled state, her unhappiness and even John’s rages, the more I knew he missed me.225

Even with John dominating my thoughts I was growing concerned for little Betty. The strain of our recent secrecy was beginning to take its inevitable toll on her pretty features. Her was face continually drawn and pinched, her eyes luminous and clouded with purple shadows. She rarely slept a full night, I often sensed her stirring beside me, muttering and. Betty knew I craved John more than her company and felt this as a rejection. Her appetite grew weak, her once busy fingers idle, if I left the room she padded after me like a faithful puppy, as if she dreaded losing sight of me even for the slightest moment. I needed to raise her but most of all I needed John and the physical fulfilment he brought me. Poor Betty’s suffering faded as I plotted how I should be relieved of my frustration and draw him to me once more.226

Little Betty had been sporadically ailing for over two weeks when John fully returned to me. Walking idly to the Meeting House with her and Betty Hubbard I espied the familiar mare trotting towards us and felt the dormant stirrings unleashed. As he slowed, our eyes locked and he smiled, one of his rare illuminating beams and I knew my boyman was back.227

As ever, Betty Hubbard saw it all, the sharp prod of her elbow dug into my side, ‘no, you can’t,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t be a fool Abby, and he should know better, he should have more sense. Anyone can see how soft he looks, the great fool. God help the both of you.’ 228

‘I don’t know what you mean Betty, I’m only being polite.’ I sounded sanctimonious and hypocritical, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything else now John was here. Only for me would he smooth his cheeks, only for me would he clean and cut his hair free of mats, only for me would he risk all.229

‘I’m losing patience with you Abby,’ snapped Betty. ‘Betty, we won’t get any sense out of her now he’s back. Come on. Let’s leave her.’230

Little Betty nodded dumbly clasping Betty’s outstretched hand. Her lapses of concentration were worrying and I was beginning to fret about her wits. She must have been exhausted and petrified of rejection and all I could do was confirm her fears. All John had to do was smile at me and the whole world ceased to exist. Her huge eyes tore into me as Betty led her away into the Meeting House, her head turned to keep me in sight, she’d pine until I returned, her sewing limp and sweaty in her hands, her mind roaming.231

I watched as the mare stopped short and he waited, his eyes unwavering.232

‘Good day Abigail,’ he greeted formally. ‘How are you?’233

‘Goody day Mr Proctor, I’m very well thank you. We haven’t seen you alone for some weeks,’ I returned equally formal. 234

‘I’m in Salem all morning,’ he added, the ghost of a smile again wrapping his lips. 235

‘I’m glad to hear that, Mr Proctor,’ I nodded politely, also smiling now, the joy seeping into my eyes.’236

‘How’s your uncle?’237

‘Out with John Indian, they’ve driven to Wenham. They won’t be back until nightfall. Little Betty and I were going to the Meeting House, we’re alone all day.’238

‘I’m glad to hear that. Well, it’s good to see you again Abby.’239

‘And you Mr Proctor.’240

He clicked the mare onwards, although his smiled clearly indicated this was no parting and trotted off towards the Nurse home. I watched him tether the horse and slowly turned homeward; I knew exactly where to go, the stable was empty and waiting. I’d barely stepped inside, my back still to the door when I heard it softly open. Slipping free of my cap I loosened my hair, it had grown well, and the scars were little more than an unpleasant memory. His breath was audible I didn’t need to turn, or use my hands to seek his ardour, I could smell the lust surrounding him. 241

‘I’ve missed you,’ his breath was warm against my skin and his slender fingers began combing through my hair.242

‘I can tell.’243

‘Did you doubt me Abby?’244

‘No. I’ll never doubt you John. You know that.’245

‘I do. Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last time we were here. In fact I’ve rarely thought about anything else and I’ve decided, you’re right, we can’t stop, I can’t see you without wanting you. I must have you Abby, I must have you and burn for it.’246

I turned to him, glad to have my John returned, rejuvenated, clean, his eyes sparkling with the longing I’d shared. Nothing mattered, our door was firmly locked against an unforgiving world and like beasts we rolled until we were spent. Afterwards we lay as of old, nothing had changed, I rested my head upon his chest, tracing his bones with my fingers, straying as ever to his receptive nipple, delighting in his ready gasp. I loved these sleepy moments sinking into each other, content and fulfilled. 247

‘Oh Abby,’ he murmured. ‘Stop, please, stop, I can’t, not yet.’ He exhaled loudly, ‘dear God I’ve missed this so much. I’ve so missed you, though I wish we had more salubrious surroundings.’248

‘We don’t have to stay here, like I said, Parris is out all day, there’s only Tituba and we can slip past her easily enough. Is anyone expecting you?’249

He shook his head, the flames already dancing in his green eyes, ‘not formally. Francis is used to my leaving the mare outside, he’ll feed her if there’s no sign of me. Are you sure you want to risk this?’250

‘I’ve risked everything already John Proctor. Come on, make yourself decent for now, we’ll be warmer indoors.’251