I stumbled, nearly fell, regained my balance. She stepped forward and raised the knife. Her shoulder dripped blood. Her white blouse turned redder with every passing second. We stared at each other.

‘I don’t want to hurt you but you’ve left me no choice,’ she said. Her eyes remained on mine. Her chest heaved.

I inched backwards. My heart began to slow. I smiled and said nothing, just carried on edging backwards. She followed and tilted her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed and she glared murder.

‘Stop now. Listen to Mother.’

I continued to shuffle away from her, then I stopped, anger rushing through me. ‘You deserved what your grandfather did to you. You deserved to be shut in there for a bit after what you did to Olivia.’

She barked out a laugh. ‘I thought I raised you to be brighter than this.’

I frowned, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

Her eyes clouded and glazed over. She spoke slowly, as if recalling a long-buried memory, ‘He didn’t just shut me in that one time. He did it many, many times.

‘And she … she took everything from me. And he gave her everything and she loved it. Lorded all of her dolls over me. Bragged about how many she had. So beautiful, so perfect in Grandfather’s eyes, but evil, and so, so, so spoiled.

‘Did you know she got me expelled? Told the teachers I was bullying other children. But it was lies. All of it. And Grandfather was worried I wouldn’t learn my lessons, that I was bad because of what she made him think I’d done, so he shut me down there every day to teach me a lesson. Oh yes, every day from the moment I turned thirteen. Every day for three years. And I learned all right. And you’ll learn too.’

I shook my head, trying to process her words, knowing from the dreadful flatness in her voice that she was telling the truth about her grandfather. What that man had done to both of them was monstrous. Too horrible to imagine. Impossible to imagine. Who, I wondered, was telling the truth about Mother getting expelled? Mother or Olivia?

But it didn’t matter. Not now. Only one thing mattered now.

Mother was eyeing the nail in my hand. She took a small step forward.

‘Just let me leave,’ I said, inching back. ‘I’m not your daughter. Let me go home to my real parents. Let me go home.’

She rolled her eyes. Took another step.

‘Don’t,’ I said.