‘Yes, you can. You can let me out and we can be a family again. I will help with all of the chores around the house and we can keep each other company and dance to the Eagles and—’

‘No. That’s simply not possible. Not now. Not now that …’

‘That what?’

‘That you know about her.’

I knew she was talking about Olivia. I felt a hand on my back and nearly gasped. Olivia was on the step below me. Now that she was there I could feel her heat and smell her sweat. My own sweat was cold and ran down my back. I looked at the sandwich, desperate to eat it.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I said, intentionally not saying Olivia’s name. Last time I had said her name, Mother had gone mad.

‘I know that,’ she said. ‘But you’ll know, and I know you, Mirabelle. I know you won’t be able to stop yourself from trying to let her out – and that can never happen. She’s evil personified. I’ve already told you that.’

A saying I’d read in a book popped into my head. Pot. Kettle. Black. I’d not understood what it meant at the time, but sudden understanding flicked on like a light.

‘OK. I understand that, but you can let me out. I will be better, better-behaved, and I can help you find Clarabelle.’

The diamond was out there now. It was my only bargaining tool. If she didn’t take it, I had no other options.

I held my breath, and her breath hitched. Olivia’s hand found my shoulder. It trembled. I could picture Mother frowning, thinking it through, her mouth a grim line, her small, dark eyes narrowed to slits.

‘How?’ she said slowly, drawing out the word.

This was it. The big lie. ‘She told me she was going to hide in the woods, near the cottage, next to this fallen tree we saw.’ I nearly added, when we were running away from you.

‘Which fallen tree? There are hundreds of fallen trees in the woods.’

‘There was this huge one that I fell over. I can remember exactly where it is. It’s next to a deep hole in the ground. I can take you there and we can bring Clarabelle home and start afresh and be a happy family, and I can learn how to make dresses and we can make dresses for Clarabelle and—’

‘That’s enough. Be quiet now. I need to think.’

She let the door fall shut, making me jump.

‘Bloody psycho,’ Olivia whispered, ‘she might actually be buying it.’

‘Here,’ I said, feeling for a sandwich then turning round to hand it to her.

‘Thanks.’