Mother had prepared the room for Clarabelle. Mother had known Clarabelle was coming here before that day in the supermarket, before she had seen Clarabelle and known she was being hurt by her father and known she had to rescue her. Did that mean …

I couldn’t, wouldn’t complete the question.

Chapter 11

Mother went out an hour later. The door slammed shut; louder than usual, I thought. Maybe she was still angry with me. Did she suspect I’d lied earlier? Was I going to be punished when she got back? I winced at the thought. Would it be the silent treatment again?

I thought about going to Clarabelle’s door, seeing if she was awake. No – Clarabelle needed to sleep and Mother would be cross if I disturbed her.

But Clarabelle was only a delaying tactic. I was never going to go and talk to her. I had already made up my mind.

I left my room and slowly descended the stairs. I knew I was going to go through with it. Dread was unfurling in my chest like a huge black demon hand and I let it. The hand closed on my heart and squeezed and squeezed. I felt like I couldn’t breathe but I also felt that if my heart didn’t slow down, I would have a heart attack. I imagined Mother coming home to find me sprawled on the floor clutching my heart, my eyes rolled back in my head, froth dribbling out of my mouth. She would be so upset. She’d dash over to me, hold me in her arms and sob. She’d tell me how sorry she was, how much she loved me, how I was not going to die …

Guilt gnawed and nibbled at my heart, but a creeping, dreadful sense of certainty lived in my head now, and it was beginning to thrive. I had to know the truth. I desperately wanted to believe in Mother; to believe anything else was to shatter my world as I knew it.

But it will also mean you’re not dying. That you’re not allergic to outside. And what’s so good about a world of locked doors and boarded windows?

They battled: the need to believe her and the desire for her to be lying.

I entered the living room, walked to the rocking chair and dragged it over to the living room doorway to face the front door. I picked up The Secret Garden and sat on the rocking chair, setting the swing in motion with a light push of my feet. The chair creaked comfortingly. I’d sat on this rocking chair so many times but never in the living room doorway in the direct path of the front door.