“Just get the fucking key!”

His anger stirred her into motion, and she knew not to argue any further. She hurried to the kitchen, avoiding the woman’s bloody footprints. When she returned with the key, fat and black in her palm, he snatched it from her and hauled the woman to her feet. The woman cried out as he pushed her towards Sara.

“Keep a hold of her,” he said as he went to the mat by the front door where his trainers sat beside hers.

Sara took the woman in her arms, felt her quivering, felt the chill of her skin through the dressing gown.

“My God, she’s freezing,” Sara said, wrapping her open cardigan around the woman, hoping to share some warmth with her. “She needs to go to hospital.”

Damien pulled each shoe on, yanking on the toggled cord to fasten them. “The care home can sort that out.”

Sara felt anger drag her into the moment, time and reality connecting for the first time in months.

“What care home? Damien, who is she?”

“It’s not my home,” the woman said. “This is my home. Where are the children? They need me. Where are they?”

Sara bent down to the woman’s eye level. “What children? What’s your name?”

Damien took the woman from Sara’s arms, his eyes flashing a warning. She did not drop her gaze.

“Never mind her name, she’s away in the head. Just get that floor cleaned.”

As he carried her to the front door, still open, the woman said, “Mary. My name’s Mary, and this is my house.”

Damien slammed the door behind him.

Sara looked down at her bare feet and saw she stood in the woman’s blood.

2: Mary

2: Mary

Here, now, till I tell you.

I always lived in the house. I never knew any different. Underneath, in the room down the stairs. In the dark. That’s what I remember the most, when we were telt to put the lamps out. They locked the door at the top of the stairs and that was that. Dark until they opened it again. I still don’t like the dark.

As far as I know, I was born there. Nobody ever telt me any different, and I don’t mind any different. From I was wee, that’s all I remembered. Always. Thon room under the house, then the rest of the place when I was allowed up.

The only light down there was the couple of oil lamps they allowed us to have. It was always cold and wet. They’d made a floor out of wooden boards, and a ceiling, with posts to holt it up. The floor was always damp. Sometimes, if it rained hard outside, mucky water would come up through the cracks.