And my favourite: a fancy dress party for Mum’s birthday. It was based on her favourite book and film, The Wizard of Oz. Mum went as Dorothy, Dad went as the Scarecrow, and I was the Cowardly Lion.

Except I’m not so cowardly now.

We watched the film and had a dance-off and ate her favourite food, with cake for dessert. Mum said it was the best birthday ever.

After I’m done with the album, I pull her copy of the book out from the shelf and stroke the cover. It’s made of soft green cloth with golden lettering. I sit right there on the floor, turn to the first chapter and start reading.

Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife . . .

When I turn to the next page something flutters to the floor, like a forgotten feather.

I look down. It’s a Polaroid.

When I pick it up and peer at the photo I see them: all four girls in their secret hideaway, rehearsing for their play that night. I recognize Hana’s headscarf and Aminah’s hair with the cloth plaited into it. Rawan is climbing up the side wall to reach Aminah, as Hana and Ib watch on, grinning.

This is it. This is the object I need to unlock the next memory!

As soon as I get home I add it to my memory box with the perfume, bracelet, cats and flyer. Each of them form a separate piece of the puzzle of Mum’s past. And I’m slowly putting it together in time to save her.

Chapter 26

The house is different this time. The walls are beginning to crumble again, which doesn’t make sense because Mum’s getting better and I’m collecting the objects. The silver branches grow thicker, shining bright in the darkness. Their yellow flowers, which have now sprouted all over, look inky blue in this light.

The smell of the perfume is overpowering today. I follow it up, up, up to the biggest bedroom in the house. It draws me in, hypnotizing me; it clouds my thoughts and fills my mind with memories that aren’t my own.

I walk over to a dressing table; it’s spilling with perfume and make-up, just like Mum’s. And each time the house breathes, it feels as if everything might just topple over the edge. This must be my grandmother’s room.

She even has a walk-in wardrobe behind the mirror of her dressing table, and I wish I could show it to Izzy because I know she’d love it.