I found Esther’s dress hanging in the old wardrobe, the one with no doors, just a rail inside. It was tucked away into the corner, like she’d hidden it there. I looked down, and there was her shoes in the bottom. The dress still had the smell of her on it, that good smell she had, clean like soap and flowers. The damp hadn’t got to it yet. I lifted it down from the hanger and helt the blue fabric up to my face and I breathed her in. Then I cried for her awful hard for she was my sister and I missed her.

A notion came on me then. The idea seemed a terrible sin, but now it was in my head I knew I’d never be rid of it. I looked up to the top of the stairs and listened. No one was in the kitchen, as far as I could tell. I pulled the dress on over my head, over the top of the nightie I had on me. Esther wasn’t a tall girl, and she was slender, but her dress near drownt me. I could’ve fit into it twice. Even so, I didn’t care. I ran my hands over the material, softer than anything I’d ever had on me. I turned in a circle and let the skirt of it flare out and I wished I had a mirror so I could see myself. But the children could see me. They watched from the corners and the dark places while I spun round and round till I was dizzy.

The floor was coarse and cold and damp on my bare feet. I went back to the wardrobe and took the shoes and slipped my feet into them. They were far too big for me, but they were awful light, you’d hardly have known they were there at all. They slapped on the floor as I walked circles around the room, letting Esther’s smell rise up from the dress so I could breathe it in.

What are you doing?

Mummy Noreen at the top of the stairs. I took a buck lep at the sound of her voice, and I started trimbling, thinking I was in trouble.

She came down the stairs carrying some of our clothes that she’d washed. Says she, What are you at?

I’d no answer for her. All I could do was look at the floor.

Mummy Noreen put her hands on my shoulders. Says she, They must’ve forgot about this. They’d have burned it otherwise.

I looked up at that. The notion of putting the dress on a fire was a worse sin than me wearing it.