Mr. Crane didn’t laugh. “They were poorly tied,” he said, bending to sweep up as many slips as he could in a single movement. His fingers closed into a fist around them, and I saw the slips crushed. I let out a little gasp, and it made him bump his head on the underside of the table.

“All right there, Mr. Crane?” asked Mr. Maling.

“Surely the girl is too big to be under there.”

“It’s just until she returns to school,” said Mr. Sweatman.

When my breathing settled, and the Scriptorium returned to its regular shuffle and hum, I searched the shadows under the sorting table. Two slips still rested beside Mr. Worrall’s tidy shoes, as if they knew they would be safe from some careless tread. I picked them up and had a sudden memory of the trunk beneath Lizzie’s bed. I couldn’t bring myself to return them to Mr. Crane.

When I saw Lizzie hovering at the door, I emerged beside Da’s chair.

“That time already?” he said, but I had a feeling he’d been watching the clock.

I put the exercise book in my satchel and joined Lizzie in the garden.

“Can I put something in the trunk before going back to school?”

It had been a long time since I’d put anything in the trunk, but Lizzie took no more than a moment to understand. “I’ve often wondered if you’d find anything else to put in it.”

The slips weren’t the only words that found their way into the trunk.

On the floor of Da’s wardrobe were two wooden boxes. I found them when we were playing hide-and-seek. The sharp corner of one stuck painfully into my back as I pushed myself into the furthest corner. I opened it.

It was too dark among Da’s coats and Lily’s musty dresses to see what was inside, but my hand stroked the edges of what felt like envelopes. Then there was a clomping on the stairs, and Da sang “Fee Fi Fo Fum.” I closed the lid and shuffled towards the centre of the wardrobe. Light flooded in, and I jumped out into his arms.

Later that night, when I should have been asleep, I wasn’t. Da was still downstairs correcting proofs, so I sneaked out of bed and tip-toed across the landing to his bedroom. “Open sesame,” I whispered, and pulled on the wardrobe doors.