I looked at the knife and a crazy idea popped into my head. She was not the woman I’d thought she was, but I knew what drove her.

Looking into her eyes, I said, ‘Who’s Annabelle?’

A puzzled look washed away some of the wildness. She blinked a few times, but didn’t move the knife. In a soft voice, she said, ‘Annabelle. Poor, sweet, little Annabelle.’

‘Who is she?’

‘My baby. My first little doll.’

‘Where is she now?’

Her eyes grew wet. She frowned. Her chin trembled. One of her tears hit the blade of the knife.

‘Why have I never met her?’ I said.

Mother tipped back her head and blinked rapidly. Her chest rose and fell with abnormal speed. ‘I can’t. I can’t talk about Annabelle.’

‘Why? Did something happen to her?’

Her chin snapped down and she stared into me, her eyes intense and dark. Suddenly, she was present, more present than before. More present than ever. I held my breath. Glanced at the knife.

In the gentlest voice I’d ever heard she said, ‘Annabelle was my little doll. My real little doll. But she’s dead now. She’s dead and buried and gone for ever.’

I swallowed. ‘I’m sorry.’

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. ‘You’re not my little doll. You’re not my Annabelle. She’s all I want. She’s all I ever wanted. Don’t you see?’

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

Tears dribbled down her cheeks and mixed with her blood.

In the not-too-far distance, sirens sang, their song the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, but it was going to be too late.

‘I’ve done terrible things,’ she said flatly.

Tears poured down her cheeks. I stayed silent.

‘All I ever wanted was someone to love me back,’ she said. She was distant again, frozen in a faraway time, looking beyond me into the past, maybe far back into her terrible childhood.

I tensed as she jerked down and brought her face an inch from mine. She smelled awful, her breath like rotten fruit.

‘Please, don’t—’ I said.

But she had already made up her mind. I saw the decision painted there in tears and blood. Her blood, my blood, Olivia’s and Derek’s and Dot’s and Patrick’s blood. She’d hurt so many people, and now she wasn’t just going to hurt me. She was going to kill me. I was never going to see my mummy. I was never going to see my daddy. I was going to die here, inside this wretched, never-ending gloom never having experienced a proper life. A life lived in colour with people who loved me.