I shuddered and glanced at my bedroom door. An idea was forming and solidifying and making itself hard to ignore. Mother wasn’t around, which meant, if I wanted to, I could sneak into her bedroom. Clarabelle was as quiet as a mouse, fast asleep no doubt behind the locked door of the spare room. The cottage was quiet too, unnervingly so.

I stood and left my bedroom. Every step I took sounded like I imagined an elephant’s would. The nerves beneath my skin quivered and twitched, quivered and twitched.

I wondered where Mother had gone, how long it would take her to reach the closest house or shop. I pictured her smiling face as she had hit me, then I crossed the landing and stood outside her bedroom. This was forbidden territory. Under no circumstances was I allowed in this room. I’d probably find the door was locked, like the one to the spare room.

Cursing my trembling hand, I turned the doorknob and pushed. Nothing happened. I tried pulling but the door remained shut. Locked. Locked to keep me out. Locked, maybe, to keep whatever she had in there hidden from me.

I stood and stared at the door. I needed to get in that room. Mother wore the keys on her belt, but maybe, just maybe, she had a spare key.

I ran downstairs and darted into the living room. I scanned every part of the gloomy room and latched on to Mother’s immense bookcase. With quivering fingers I pulled out every book and looked behind and between them. When I couldn’t reach, I dragged the rocking chair across the room and stood on it to search the upper shelves.

The hunt took ages and I didn’t find anything.

Next, I hunted high and low in the dining room – again, nothing.

Feeling almost dizzy with frustration, I dashed into the kitchen and searched every cupboard and drawer. I even looked inside the oven, but there was nothing to find.

With a long sigh, I trudged out of the kitchen and stopped outside the cupboard under the stairs. Perhaps she kept a spare set of keys in there …

I glanced at the front door and listened. Outside, everything stayed quiet. She wasn’t back. Not yet.

I doubled over, pulled open the door and stuck my head inside. It was too dark to see much, so I turned on the hall light and opened the cupboard door as wide as it would go.

Mother kept her cleaning products in there. I scanned the gloomy space, saw a light switch and flicked it. The light flickered on and I spotted a cake tin on a shelf at the very back of the small space. Holding my hopes in one tight breath, I leaned forward and grabbed the tin. I gave it a gentle shake. Something inside rattled and my heart seemed to trip over itself.