Brightly Ms. Herne spoke with Aunt Irma and me, and then she spoke with me alone, asking in a hushed voice—“Do you feel safe in this household, Violet? Is there anything you would like to share with me, just between the two of us?”

Yes I felt safe with my aunt and uncle—of course.

No I had nothing to share with a stranger.

Consulting her notes Ms. Herne went on to ask—“Has anyone from your family in South Niagara threatened you, since last November? Your brother Lionel—”

“Lionel is in p-prison.”

“Well—has Lionel contacted you? Directly, or indirectly?”

Shook my head no.

“He has not? No?”

No.

“Not through a family member? Lionel has not contacted you—definitely?”

A flurry of panic in my chest for the thought came to me, does Ms. Herne know something I don’t know? Has Lionel been threatening me without my knowing it?

His prison sentence was seven to thirteen years, I told Ms. Herne. It had not been even a year yet . . .

A humming sound came to my ears. It seemed that Ms. Herne was humming under her breath but in such a way, her mouth clamped shut, I could not be sure that the low vibratory sound was actually coming from her throat and not my own.

A strange Turnip Face, confronting me.

“And you have not visited him in prison? I assume.”

Shook my head no. Trying not to laugh wildly.

Impossible to imagine visiting either Lionel or Jerome. Would my parents have taken me? No.

Could not bear to see the hatred in my brothers’ faces. Murderous rage.

Rat bitch. Rat cunt. We’ll take your fucking head off.

Ms. Herne was peering at her notes, frowning. Obviously she hadn’t glanced at these hand-scrawled notes since the last time she’d visited the house; she seemed to have forgotten the crucial details of my case.

“And your older brother Jerome—had he threatened you, too?”

Shook my head no.

“At the time your brother Lionel attacked you—according to my report here, pushed you down ‘icy steps’—was Jerome also on the premises?”

Coldly I told Ms. Herne no. In another minute I would jump up and run from the room, I hated this interrogation so.

“Jerome did not participate in this attack, you believe? To the best of your knowledge?”

Not sure how to respond. Hesitantly nodded my head yes.

“You are not in contact with Jerome, either?”

Shook my head no.

(But maybe yes for I’d sent a birthday card to Jerome, as I’d sent a birthday card to Lionel, and with the card just my signature—Violet. Did that count as being in contact?)

“And you don’t hear from your incarcerated brothers through anyone else, Violet? Anyone in the family?”

When I only shook my head Ms. Herne persisted: “I have to ask, dear. This is crucial to know.”