Feeling desperately confused about Mother’s sudden change of mood, I picked up my sandwich and took it upstairs with me. At the top of the stairs I listened for any sound of Clarabelle. I heard a sniffling sound and took a tentative step towards the door. Before I knew it, my feet had carried me to the spare room.

‘Hi, it’s Mirabelle. Are you feeling any better?’ I whispered, careful not to call her Clarabelle in case it upset her again.

I heard Mother’s footsteps on the stairs and rushed into my bedroom. I thought about going out to talk to Mother, but I didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had.

As instructed, I sat at my desk and began to write, but it was hard to concentrate when all I could think about was whether or not the light was slowly killing me. I couldn’t even ask Mother; if she knew I’d let the light touch me, I’d be in terrible trouble.

‘Don’t throw the crusts away when you cut them off. Leave them on the side,’ Mother said, making me jump.

‘What? I mean, pardon, Mother?’

I looked up from my robin description and leaned forward in what I hoped was a casual, natural-looking movement. Mother was standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on something far away. My arm obscured my work. I didn’t want her to see it. Not yet. Not until I had decided whether to show her the description with my drawing or without it. Mother used to let me draw pictures to go with my work when I was little, but I was learning that the rules were different when you turned thirteen. Mother might disapprove of the fact that I had drawn a sketch to go with the description. Then again, she might not. I was beginning to realize that I could never be sure which way Mother would go. It was starting to make me more nervous but more careful too.

I distorted my face into a fake smile, trying to ignore the soft crying sounds coming from the spare room. If Mother heard them, she did not show it. I wanted to ask if Clarabelle had had any lunch but the words dried up on my tongue.

‘I said, don’t throw the crusts away.’

‘Why? Are you going to give them to the birds?’

‘That’s none of your concern. I need them, that’s all you need to know.’

‘Oh, OK. Sorry, Mother.’ I dropped my gaze, fought tears. Wondered why she needed to keep the crusts. It seemed very odd.

‘That’s all right,’ she said. She took a small step into the room. Her voice soft, she said, ‘I didn’t tell you about my sister before.’

‘Your sister?’

‘Yes. I had a sister,’ she said.