The swirly curtains were drawn tightly together. Panic ballooned in my chest; what if they were sewn shut? What if boards had been nailed behind those curtains? No. Dot was kind. She was a good person.

I tugged the curtains apart. They opened with ease and I saw a starry, navy sky. I marvelled at the glittering dots of light, moved to tears by their prettiness.

I wanted to stare at them for longer but dread erupted in my tummy: the sun had set. It was night. How long had I been asleep? How long had Patrick been lying on the floor bleeding? How long had Emma been wandering around in the wilderness?

I looked down at myself. I was still wearing the brown sack dress but my arms and legs had been wiped clean. The wound on my leg had been bandaged too. Dot had cleaned every inch of me that she could without taking off my dress. I couldn’t believe how kind she was.

A glass of water sat on the bedside table. I drained the whole glass then walked to the bedroom door and twisted the knob. The door opened and I slipped out onto a landing which had a green and white flowery carpet. Up here, the lights were off so it was dark. Trailing my hand on the banister, I descended the stairs, pleased to see soft light coming from downstairs. Dot and Harold must still be awake. I remembered suddenly that Harold had driven away to get the police, and realized that Harold and Dot must not have a telephone.

I turned right at the bottom of the stairs and hovered outside the living room. The door was shut. I could hear Dot murmuring to Harold, but no other voices. Alarm crept up my spine. Where were the police?

I hesitated, my hand on the door. Dot and Harold were good, kind people. Maybe the police were on their way. Maybe Harold had told the police then driven back here with the police following him and the police car had broken down. Yes. That must be why the police weren’t here yet. I knew that if the police were here, I would hear loud, male, bossy voices. And someone would have woken me up. Someone would be questioning me right this second, desperate to find out everything they could in order to save Patrick and Emma.

Reassured, I pushed open the door and walked into the living room.

Dot was sitting on the sofa, wringing her hands. ‘Harold ought to be back by now …’ She looked up and saw me, stood and rushed across the room.

‘You’re awake! How are you feeling?’ she said gently.

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. Another woman was in the room sitting on the sofa with her back to me. I couldn’t breathe. I knew that body. That long, bony back. That short, blonde hair.

I watched, unable to draw breath.