‘Hello?’ She pushes open the door. ‘Faith is that you?’

‘A-lice … A-lice.’

A chill trails through her body, her heartbeat bouncing off her ribcage. She peers around the door, and catches sight of two ventriloquist puppets. One of them is the creepy thing she found on her bed hours ago, the other a raggedy, faded doll with wool for hair and freckles. They both have teacups in front of them, and a plate – a fairy cake on each.

There’s a setting for one more.

Chapter 36

1994

Tiger

‘Tiger, is that you?’

It’s Daddy. I lift the lid. Spring out like a jack-in-the-box. I’m so pleased to see him, even though I shouldn’t be here in the attic room behind the red door. It’s OK, Daddy never tells me off. But he’s not looking at me; he’s staring at the puppets, his face all wonky.

‘Oh God,’ he cries.

‘Daddy?’ I climb out of the box and take hold of his hand. Look up at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

Daddy pulls his hand away from me, and crouches down in front of Rosie. His cheeks are bright pink, his eyes really big.

‘Do you like the puppets, Daddy?’ I say, and he turns and stares at me for a long time. I can’t decide if he’s sad. His face is all funny. ‘This is Paulo and Ralfie and Rosie.’ I smile my biggest smile, trying to make Daddy happy. ‘They are my puppet friends.’ I clap my hands and spin around. I’m excited because Daddy is here in the big house, here with me. Excited he’s meeting my puppet friends. I just want him to be happy too. Please be happy, Daddy.

He reaches forward, moving closer to Rosie, and takes hold of both her hands. ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ he says to her, in his softest voice. ‘Where did you come from, little one?’

But Rosie doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know Daddy at all.

‘I told you,’ I say. ‘This is Rosie and she is my puppet and my best friend.’

He looks at me, then back at Rosie. ‘Does Aunt Verity know about Rosie, Tiger? Does she know she’s here?’

‘Of course she does.’ I nod three times. ‘She comes up here lots of times.’

‘Tiger,’ he says, looking over his shoulder at the door. ‘This … Rosie … you do know she is a real little girl, and not a puppet.’ His voice has gone all funny like his face. ‘Do you understand that?’

I shake my head. Look down at my cuddly tiger in my hands. Fiddle with his ears.

‘Do you know where she came from? What she’s doing up here in the attic room?’ His voice is shaky now, and I don’t know why. I feel a bubble of tears inside me, but I don’t want to cry.

‘She’s a puppet,’ I say. ‘Not a girl.’