She frowned as if confused and stepped forward to get a closer look at my evidence. A moment passed and another and another. Her head was bowed over the article so I couldn’t see her face. I wondered what she was thinking; she must know her lies were blown; she must know Patrick would never believe her now. I tried to predict what she would do now that she knew it was impossible to get Patrick on her side, but she was hard to predict. I had never been able to put myself in her shoes and think forward to her next move. Never. Again I found myself stuck in uncertainty.

Patrick glanced round at me and gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded back and pulled Emma even closer. We were getting out of here soon. I just had to be patient.

Mother looked up, eyes wide with surprise. ‘Why that was my friend’s little girl who went missing all those years ago. She was the pure image of Mirabelle, so I can see why, in her distress and confusion, poor Mirabelle thinks that’s her.’ She looked back at me, her eyes welling up with tears, her face crumpling with misery. ‘Is that why you’ve been staying away from me the last few days? You poor little thing – you thought that I …’ she trailed off, her wet eyes searching Patrick’s.

‘What about Emma?’ Patrick said, although he sounded less certain of himself now.

‘Emma?’ she said, clearly confused.

At last, I found my words. Rage and fear burst out of me in one hot flow, ‘You kidnapped me! You kidnapped Emma! You’re lying now! You’re insane. Anyone can take one look at that photograph and know it’s me!’

Patrick withdrew his outstretched arm. I could tell he was examining the article. Horror crept up my spine – was he doubting it?

Mother lowered her voice, making it sound soft and soothing: ‘Mirabelle, sweetie, calm down. This isn’t doing your health any good. Come with me and I’ll tuck you up in bed.’

I stepped forward and grabbed Patrick’s arm. ‘Surely you don’t believe her? Patrick? Please—’

‘Ask Clarabelle,’ Mother said quietly.

Patrick looked down at me and shifted his weight. His fingers tugged his earlobe – a habit that I suddenly found the most irritating thing on earth. He shook his head, ‘I’m sorry, but …’

‘No!’ I shouted. ‘No! She’s lying! She’s crazy! I can show you – in her bedroom there’s—’

‘I’m happy to show you my bedroom, if you like, Patrick. I simply want to put all of this to rest,’ she said, backing out of the room. ‘Follow me.’