After a while, we slowed to a walk to catch our breath and Emma sang a song that I had never heard of before which she said was from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – a book of children’s songs or nursery rhymes, I assumed. She let go of my hand and skipped away singing, her tiredness suddenly gone as if the song had given her a burst of energy and happiness. She clearly didn’t know all of the words, so she kept singing the same couple of lines over and over again. I found myself smiling as she skipped ahead, wondering if I would ever feel that kind of happiness again. Would I find my real parents? Were they even still alive? If they weren’t, what would happen to me?

‘Emma – can you hear that?’ I said, stopping and straining my ears. Emma carried on singing.

‘Emma! Stop!’ I said sharply.

She turned around, wide-eyed, chest heaving.

I could hear something in the distance. Something coming from behind us.

‘Can you hear that?’ I said.

Emma nodded. ‘Yes. It’s a car.’

‘A car?’ I turned around and looked back the way we had come, heart slamming against my ribs.

Speeding towards us was a red car. Mother’s car.

Chapter 27

My first thought was how did she get out? My second thought was run. I grabbed Emma’s wrist and dragged her to the left, towards the woods, thinking quickly: the car would not be able to go into the densely packed trees, which meant Mother would have to leave the car and follow on foot.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the car stop, skidding slightly, pale brown dust puffing into the air. Emma and I ran down a steep, grassy bank into the trees. The slam of the car door told me Mother was not going to give up. In my mind, I pictured her sprinting after us, her face twisted with rage, blood covering her clothes, a knife glinting in her hand. I could not be certain she held a weapon, but my gut told me she would not have come unprepared. If she caught up with us, a knife would be the perfect way of persuading us to come along quietly.

At my side, Emma slipped and stumbled over a thick root. She gasped and cried, slowing down, forcing me to pause to pick her up. Her face was pale and sweaty, her eyes wide with terror.