I hurried to the cupboard under the stairs and grabbed a dust cloth and the polish spray. I placed them on the carpet behind me then knelt down and searched the cupboard for a bag, one big enough to hold all of my supplies. I gritted my teeth, worried. There was nothing in the cupboard of any use. Nothing. I reconsidered escaping without any supplies. Would I survive with nothing but the clothes on my back? I didn’t even have any warm clothes, but the month was May, so it should not be too cold. The only shoes I had were a flimsy pair of slippers. My feet were much smaller than Mother’s, so there was little point in taking a pair of her outdoor boots. But the problem of starving to death was one I had to deal with. I had learned that from my books. Whenever a character escaped, they always had to think about how to deal with hunger. Like in The Wolves of Willoughby Chase when Bonnie and Sylvia escaped from the orphanage. That was why I had collected those food tins. Food was essential. Without it, we might die. I had to find a bag to carry them in.

A horrid thought scratched at my brain. Wolves. Would there be wolves outside? I’d never asked Mother about that and now it was too late to ask.

A distant banging sound made me jump. It was the sound from the back garden, the sound I’d heard before.

Mother came running down the stairs, face red and twisted with anger. I grabbed the polish and cloth as she ran past me into the kitchen. I heard the kitchen door being unlocked and hurried into the room to see her disappear out of the back door. What on earth was she doing? The kitchen door was ajar. Light ran down the gap, sucking me forward. It would be so easy to slip out of that door and make a run for it, but I couldn’t leave Emma.

I heard Mother screaming something and the banging sound stopped. Was someone out there? Who was she screaming at? I crept towards the door, desperate to know what was happening outside, but the sound of approaching footsteps made me dash back into the hallway.

Mother locked the kitchen door and whipped past me, saying, ‘After you’ve done your chores, go upstairs and take off that dress. I’ve laid out some other clothes for you. From now on, you’re to wear those and only those.’

My question died on my tongue. It would be stupid to ask her about what had just happened anyway.