I bit her forearm, tasted blood, and she cried out and loosened her grip. I pulled away and stumbled out of the room across the hallway into a large yellow kitchen. I opened the first drawer I could see and grabbed a rolling pin. Turning to face Mother, I raised the block of wood and glared at her.

‘Come closer and I’ll hurt you,’ I warned, panting for breath.

Dot appeared in the doorway behind Mother holding a shotgun. The gun looked huge against her tiny, frail form, but Dot’s voice was as strong as iron. ‘Please leave, Mrs Stone. Now.’

Mother turned slowly. Everything seemed so unreal all of a sudden. The room fell silent.

‘The police will be here soon,’ Dot said, pointing the gun at Mother. ‘You need to leave.’

‘I’m not leaving without my daughter.’

‘I’m not your daughter,’ I spat, lowering the rolling pin.

‘Yes, you are. Mirabelle, you’re not well. You are sick. Very sick, and the last few hours’ light exposure have made you delirious. I need to get you back home where you’ll be safe.’

‘What’s she talking about?’ Dot said to me, her eyes leaving Mother.

‘She’s lying again. She’s always lying. She’s been lying to me for ten years.’

‘Oh my God. Ten years?’ Dot said, eyes widening.

I nodded. ‘She took me when I was three years old.’

‘Shut up!’ Mother shouted. She swivelled round to face me. ‘Where’s Emma? What have you done with her?’

I twitched at her use of Emma’s real name. It was the first time she’d made that mistake.

‘Emma?’ Dot said, struggling to catch up. ‘Is that the little girl you mentioned?’

‘Yes. She took Emma too. On the twenty-third of April.’

Dot gasped. ‘Emma Hedges?’

I nodded eagerly and glanced at Mother, whose face had softened. She suddenly looked a lot older and utterly miserable. Her face seemed to have crumpled in on itself. Her voice turned whiny and pleading and she fell to her knees and clasped her hands in front of her.

‘Please, Mirabelle, please, Mrs Bancroft. Please, I’m not well. Please don’t tell. I just needed her. I love her. I only want to look after her. Make her safe. Make her safer than I was when I was a little girl.’

She dissolved into sobs and buried her face in her hands. Her bony shoulders crumpled forward and shook violently as she sobbed.

‘But she’s not your daughter and neither am I,’ I said.

Dot lowered the gun and stepped forward. She mouthed the words ‘You OK?’ to me. I nodded. My whole body sagged and I leaned against the counter.

‘Harold will be back soon,’ Dot murmured.