“I don’t want to remember,” Emily screwed her eyes tight, tried to shut out the past.

“Remember what?” Tyler was there, close enough that she could smell the coffee and tobacco on his breath.

“Make it go away.”

She wanted it all to leave her: all the memories of her parents, the images in her mind of that day. Unwashed dishes in the sink, a pan dirty with eggs and bacon. A window left open when they skipped from the house. A pale green dress trimmed with lace and her mother’s hair wild and free, with sunshine on bare arms, reaching high and singing at the top of her voice.

There had been a picnic basket on the seat beside Emily, with walnut cake and fresh pineapple that she was slowly eating, piece by piece. They were in a sleek, black sports car with its roof down, one her father had borrowed from a friend, from Tyler’s dad, just for the day. It was supposed to be a surprise trip to the river, where they would take out a rowboat and have a picnic on the water.

Her father leant across to kiss his wife, and then a flash of metal came toward them, too fast to miss, sending a tumble of sky overhead as the car flipped over and over.

A cry, a scream, a hiss, then a sharp pain in her head as all turned quiet.

“My mother told me to look up,” Emily whispered. “To see a flock of birds flying overhead. Told me to count them all and made me promise not to look back down.”

Two magpies were on the road and came hopping onto the car. They looked at Emily before flying up and away from the sound of sirens that drew close.

Shouts, voices, the feeling of being lifted high. Looking back to see her mother’s body, eyes closed and at peace. A red stain on her dress. Her father’s face was turned away, which was no doubt a blessing as he took the full force of the truck.

Screaming. A child screaming over and over. Fighting against the people who were trying to save her, to stop the flow of blood from her face. To hold her tight, to keep her safe. Then another sharp pain, and Emily’s world went black.

Emily had told herself those magpies transported her parents to Heaven. She looked for them every day from her hospital bed. She would sit by the window so she could look at the sky and count all the birds that simply disappeared whenever they wanted, to somewhere new.

“Emily?” Tyler’s hands were on her arms, trying to stop her from scratching at the scar on her face.

“Why?” she whispered, rocking slowly back and forth, tears intermingling with droplets of blood on her cheek. “Why did she want me to remember?”

Tyler glanced across at Phoebe, and he saw the look on her face as she finished reading, then passed the pages to him. He scanned Catriona’s words, one fist clenching as he realized when they were written.