And when it is time, I do not turn away from difficult decisions. I seek out those who can no longer be permitted to live.

Here is what else I have learned.

The past is a place I lived in once. I buried its secrets in the dirt of my memory and I left it far behind. But it always catches up with us in the end.

They say knowledge is power, but that is not true. When that little girl opened the chest in that toyshop, she set off a chain of events that would echo down the years, a scream that needed to be silenced. Puppets with cut strings.

Her curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, it killed everyone else.

6

Sunday 29th July 2018, 7:37 P.M.

25 The Avenue

Evan Lockwood lay on his old bed in his new bedroom. His mother had not got around to duvet covers and pillowcases yet, but he didn’t much care. He was nine and didn’t notice whether his bedding was fresh on, three weeks old or nonexistent.

The late-evening sun was splashing golden paint onto the walls, and he was buried inside his quilt, which smelled of home and the dirty-washing basket. The backs of his knees were sticky in the heat.

In his left palm was a shiny black ball the size of a cantaloupe. A white circle with a number 8 in its middle was painted on the top. A birthday present from his cousin.

“It’s a Magic 8 Ball.” The words had bubbled out of her before he’d even had the chance to tear off the wrapping paper. “It foretells the future.”

“Cool,” he’d said, and meant it. His eyes pricked. He would miss her.

Bunching his duvet into the rough shape of a pillow, he shoved it up against the wall and leaned into it. He pursed his lips, thinking, and whispered his first question.

Will we have pizza for tea?

He tipped the ball over and the answer appeared in the triangle of a window.

Most likely.

Evan grinned, his stomach rumbling its approval, and chewed on his lip while he thought of another.

Is the Tooth Fairy real?

He liked to pretend he was almost grown-up, but he was still losing his baby teeth, still clinging on to childish fantasies. Two mornings ago, when he had slid a hand beneath his pillow, there had been no money, just the pearly treasure he had lost while eating an apple the day before. When he’d told his mother, who was packing books into a box, her cheeks had flamed red. But she’d insisted the Tooth Fairy hadn’t forgotten and had just been busy. Evan wasn’t so sure.

Ask again later.

He tutted. Those noncommittal replies were the worst kind. He gazed around the bedroom. It was weird, being in this house. A new start. That’s what his parents kept calling it. Evan didn’t understand it. Like his toys and furniture and the kitchen pots and pans, surely all the shouting and crying and arguments would move with them, too.