Mother laid the little girl on the carpet at my feet and knelt beside her small body, stroking her cheek. The girl didn’t stir at all. She looked peaceful, but I could see dried tear stains on her pale cheeks.

Mother pulled up the girl’s left sleeve to reveal a horrible bruise on her tiny upper arm. ‘Look, Mirabelle, look! Look what that evil man did to her!’

The bruise looked like fingers – strong, angry fingers that had gripped Clarabelle’s arm so viciously that blood had climbed to the surface, pooling under the girl’s delicate skin like squashed plums under a piece of paper.

‘That’s awful,’ I whispered. ‘But you’ve taken her away from him now. She’s safe, isn’t she?’

Mother dragged her hands down her face. She looked like she was about to cry. ‘That’s just it. I’m afraid the damage has been partway done.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, Clarabelle’s mind. It’s damaged. I think – I hope – given time, the damage can be reversed, but …’

‘But what?’

Mother exhaled heavily. ‘She’s not making sense. Her name, for example. She thinks her name is Emma, which of course is complete nonsense. It’s a brain thing, you see. She’s all confused because of what that evil man did to her.’

‘Does she need to see a brain doctor then?’ I said.

‘No, don’t be so ridiculous,’ Mother snapped. ‘All she needs is my love and care.’

I looked down at Clarabelle’s small face and murmured, ‘I can help too. I want to help make her better.’

Mother patted my arm. ‘Best if you stay away from her for now. Too many new faces will be all the more confusing for poor Clarabelle.’

I nodded, trying not to feel hurt.

‘Now, off you go back to your studies. I’m popping out to get some fabric to make Clarabelle’s dresses. By the time I get back, I expect you to have completed all of Section B. If you finish before I return, you may read your new book.’

‘Thank you, Mother!’ I said, excited by the prospect of reading The Secret Garden.

‘You know, I was rather like Mary Lennox as a child.’

‘How do you mean?’ So far, Mary seemed spoiled and strange and not very nice to other people at all.

‘I was very lonely, I suppose. Even though I had a sister, I—’

‘You had a sister?’ Mother told me before that she was an only child.

Mother’s eyes burned. ‘Did you just interrupt me, Mirabelle?’

‘I’m sorry, Mother.’

She exhaled and nodded. ‘It’s all right. Don’t do it again. Now off you go.’