Anger and misery bit, making me nauseous, but I obeyed her instructions and cleared away their plates, which I washed up, dried and put back in the cupboards. I left the kitchen, intent on completing the next step in my plan, but Mother stopped me.

‘Mirabelle. In here. Now.’

I walked into the room to see Mother smiling sweetly at me. Emma was lying on the sofa fast asleep.

‘Yes, Mother?’ I said, hating that I still had to call her that, but still used to the feel of it on my tongue.

She stared above my head as she spoke. ‘Polish the room then clean the fridge. If you do a good job, I might let you eat with Little Doll and me tonight. Would you like that?’

‘Yes, Mother.’

‘But if you miss just one spot …’ she trailed off, eyes glinting.

She picked up Emma and kissed the top of the little girl’s head tenderly. Emma did not stir. She looked like a miniature Sleeping Beauty. And I’m Cinderella.

Mother left the room with slow steps, holding the little girl close to her chest like she was the most precious thing in the world. I vaguely remembered how she used to hold me like that and felt a stabbing pain in my chest.

I frowned and told myself to get a grip. There was no point dwelling on the past; I had to focus on the now – on getting Emma and myself out of here. Now that I knew what she had done, I realized there was no way to predict the full extent of her wrongness. Her badness.

My eyes fell on the dining room table, to the empty syringe that Mother had boldly left out on display. My knees buckled as an idea that was so terrible but so obvious shot into my brain like one of Robin Hood’s arrows: Mother wasn’t giving Emma calming medicine to help her feel better about her father; Mother was giving Emma calming medicine to make her easier to control.

I shouldn’t have been shocked, but I was. I picked up the syringe and shook my head. Did she drug me too? And if Emma was drugged, how was I supposed to get her out of the house? I could carry her, but not for long. I looked at my scrawny arms, at my bandaged hand. I wasn’t exactly muscle girl.