THE HIDDEN GIRL extract – PROLOGUE   The old woman stared at Leah, then smiled, her face creasing into a thousand wrinkles. Leah thought that she must be at least a hundred and fifty years old. All the children at her junior school said she was a witch and they howled like banshees as they passed her near-derelict cottage on their way home through the village after school. To the adults, she was old Megan, who took in injured birds and used herbal concoctions to mend their broken wings. Some said she was mad, others that she had the gift of healing and strange psychic powers. Leah’s mother felt sorry for her. ‘Poor old biddy,’ she’d say, ‘all alone in that damp, dirty cottage.’ Then she’d tell Leah to collect a few eggs from the hen-shed and take them round to Megan. Leah’s heart always beat with fear when she knocked on the crumbling door. Usually, Megan would open it slowly, peer round and grab the eggs out of Leah’s hand with a nod. The door would close and Leah would run as fast as she could back home. But today, when she had knocked, the door had opened much…