When she opened her eyes, the light in the room was different. An unknown amount of time had passed, and the nap had somehow made her even more tired than she was before. She stood up, still holding the babies, thinking to go upstairs to bed. Taking a few steps towards the kitchen, the air shifted slightly, a chill touched the back of her neck. There was a faint scratching, tapping sound, and her head snapped around to find the source. Something was darkening the window at the back of the house. The woman’s filthy face, her matted hair, her glittering eyes. Grinning, pressed against the window she pointed at Lauren, one fingernail scraping slowly down the glass.

Lauren screamed, screwed her eyes tight shut, threw herself backwards so that she was flat against the wall. The boys began to cry but it barely registered. When she dared to look again, the woman was gone. She forced herself to step closer, to peer a little further, and there was still nothing. Had it been a shadow—a bird? The light playing tricks? Cindy’s visit had tired her out. It was so exhausting having guests. The colours in the kitchen were unreal, vivid and blurred at the edges, saturated by the terror. She ought to check the garden, see if anyone was there. No, there won’t be, better to rest, to go where it’s safe, quickly. Lauren, gripping her precious boys against her body, climbed the stairs to the bedroom and shut the door, before sliding the bolts across and squeezing closed the padlock.

She curled up on the bed, encircling Morgan and Riley, trying not to think of the horrible woman, or of the pictures her mind had made out of those awful stories from Cindy. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t banish the faces of any of them: not the dark mouth and flashing eyes of the woman at the window; not those poor, nameless babies, crying alone in the African bush, or the ones in the river, sinking.

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When his first child was a few weeks old they found it on three different nights lying crossways and uncovered in its cradle, even though the cradle stood immediately next to the mother’s bed. The father therefore resolved to stay awake during the third night and to pay close attention to his child. He persisted a long while, staying awake until after midnight. Nothing happened to the child, because he had been keeping a watchful eye on it. But then his eyes began to close a little.

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

AUGUST 13TH
FOUR WEEKS AND THREE DAYS OLD
6 P.M.

“Have you been up here all day?” said Patrick. He was standing in the doorway surveying the scene in the bedroom, the messy little nest Lauren had made for herself. Wrinkling his nose and frowning, arms folded.