Mother’s whole body jerked as if she’d been shot. Somehow her false smile stayed on her face; she didn’t even look at me. She took a small step towards Patrick. ‘See, Patrick, she’s not well. She’s very, very confused. It’s not her fault and I try to be patient, but sometimes it really gets to me. She has these strange ideas – did she tell you I’m not her mother? Did she tell you that I kidnapped her? She’s very muddled up, bless her, and I know I shouldn’t lose my temper and get so angry, but I’m only human and dealing with her on my own has been hard. So hard, really.

‘Poor little dot was diagnosed with light allergy disorder when she was three years old. The doctors couldn’t explain what caused it or how it came along. I cried for I don’t know how many days. I didn’t know what to do – Mirabelle’s father, bless his soul, died when she was only two so that left just me on my own to cope with it all. Luckily, my grandfather left this cottage to me, along with enough money to keep us going without me having to work, so I’ve home-schooled Mirabelle ever since. She’s such a brave, resilient child, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that not being able to go outside has finally got to her, but, as you can see, it clearly has …’

Her eyes shifted to mine, the fire and anger gone in an instant. Now she was all love and warmth and kindness. ‘Mirabelle, sweetheart, I’m sorry I lost my temper. Please forgive me, and I should not have focused so much on Clarabelle these past weeks. I know you’ve been confused and maybe even a little jealous, but everything’s going to go back to how it was, OK, Little Doll?’

I didn’t say anything. I was too angry to speak. I glared at her, unable to say all that I wanted to, unable to correct her lies.

Patrick put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the newspaper article. With slow hands, he unfolded and smoothed out the paper.

‘How do you explain this?’ he said, thrusting the paper towards her.