That little reminder flicks an unknown switch. Goosebumps race and suddenly I don’t feel safe in my spot. A soft rustle in the trees over the garage, a gentle scrape over by the tank stand. Once it would’ve been okay, but something tells me these aren’t normal night sounds.

A silver shape glides through the night air.

My heart stops as the tawny frogmouth lands on the tank. It sits and stares. Its low thrumming call vibrates through my chest and every hair on my body stands on end. Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t move. Not yet.

Never run, granddaughter. Sing if you’re scared. Nan’s words give me strength and TLC’s ‘Waterfalls’ flows out of my mouth without thought. Slowly, so slowly, I stand. I take a step backwards. Up the stairs. Over the doorjamb. One hand creeps around the door and I swing it closed. My hand shakes as I lock it. I feel safe enough to stop singing.

I stand there staring at the door. Listening.

A soft scrape on concrete.

A creak from the bottom step.

My breath churns. I take a step back.

Another.

The steps creak in time with my movements.

Something is pacing me.

A smell hits me. Something musty, damp.

I make it into the kitchen. Drop my cup on the table.

Whatever it is stands on the top step.

The doorknob twitches.

Twists.

I stifle a scream but a whimper slips out.

A low hissing chuckle.

The knob rattles violently.

A huge bang on the door sends me bolting for my room. Throwing on the bedroom light I vault into the bed. Gripping the sheet, I pull it over our heads and stare into Rhi’s wide open eyes.

I hold my finger to my lips. We stay like that for ages. Listening.

There’s only so long your heart can pump that fast before you start to calm down. The longer we go without hearing anything, the more we relax. It is stifling hot but neither of us lowers the sheet.

Somehow, hours and years later, we fall asleep.

Day 5, Daylight

Day 5, Daylight

‘Stacey Claire Thomson!’

Mum’s scream jerks me up in bed, half asleep and confused. ‘Uh?’

My eyes feel like they’re filled with chewing gum, all icky and stuck together. I’m sore all over, but worse is the grit in my eyes that says I’ve had maybe a few hours sleep.

‘Why the fuck do ya look like ya been fightin?’

I blush to my roots as a groggy Rhi pokes her head out of the sheets.

‘Hey Aunty.’ She blinks.