‘It’s too late. And I need to confess something. Something I’ve been holding in for a long time. Something I’ll never forgive myself for.’

‘Don’t be silly. You need to rest. You need to sleep. Sleep now, OK?’

‘No. Polly, you need to know … what I did.’

I shushed her and took the empty bowl away, placing it on the floor beside the bed. I didn’t want her getting worked up. I patted her leg gently then went back to work on the nail, checking that my tights were still in position. When Mother came back, I would be close enough to grab the tights and carry out my plan. I only hoped I could get the nail out first.

Chapter 47

My fingers screamed. I took a breath, bit down on my lip and wrenched the nail out.

It was in my fingers now. I’d got it out. I’d done it.

Relief soared through me, making me feel like I was flying. Grinning, I tore off a strip of sheet and wrapped up my fingertips, glad for once that I couldn’t see anything down here. If I could see what my fingers looked like, I might not have continued working on the nail, because now that I had it clutched in my sweaty palm, pain slashed at my fingers.

Fear rose and stamped on my relief. I began to wonder if it had been worth all the pain and effort. If Olivia was right and Mother never came back, my fingers would probably get infected and I’d die too.

Olivia was convinced she was going to die. If I didn’t get her out of here soon, I knew she’d die. The stink of rot emanated off her hand in putrid waves and her body pulsed with unnatural heat. She’d tried again to tell me something but I’d silenced her. She needed to save her energy. I did too.

I got in position on the fifth from top step and pulled the tights taut. I had tied the tights around the inner handle of the door – the handle I had seen when Mother had come. The handle I had known would be our saviour, if things went to plan.

My muscles cramped so I shifted position for the tenth time. I couldn’t afford to move from the step. If Mother came back, I had to be here, ready. This was my only plan. There was no plan B. Plan A had to work or Olivia would die and I would be next. I could already feel the cuts on my bloodied fingertips and bitten wrist beginning to itch, burn and swell. Soon there would be pus and the rats would come.