‘She’s a real little girl, Tiger. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see how she’s different to Paulo and Ralfie?’

‘No!’ I stamp my foot, and my hands hurt because I’m squeezing them tightly. Rosie is a puppet. She lives up here behind the red door, outside inside, with the other puppets. ‘Rosie isn’t real,’ I yell. ‘Rosie is my puppet friend.’

‘Oh, Tiger, we have to get Rosie out of here before Aunt Verity gets back.’ Daddy stands up straight. He’s so big and I’m so small, and I know I won’t be able to stop him taking Rosie. ‘We have to get you both out of here.’

He picks Rosie up, and she flops her head on his shoulder, and he grabs my hand so tightly it hurts, and then he runs from the room dragging me with him. And I struggle to keep up in my rabbit slippers. And I cry and cry, but Rosie doesn’t cry. She’s droopy and quiet in his arms, because she is a puppet.

We take the first stairs, and then the second stairs, and then the third stairs, and then we bump into Aunt Verity who is bringing carrier bags full of shopping from Tesco through the front door, puffing and panting.

She drops them to the floor, and a tin of baked beans rolls away. ‘Hugh!’ she shouts. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Chapter 37

Halloween Weekend 2019

Alice

Faith appears in eyeshot, a wide, unnatural smile pinned to her face. Her ponytail is high – neat and tidy, as though she’s brushed her hair; made herself look presentable for Alice’s arrival.

Alice steps in, bewildered, eyes roaming the room, but before she can fully absorb her surroundings, Faith darts past her, pushing her so she topples, almost falls.

Faith slams the red door. ‘A-lice, A-lice.’ It’s the same creepy voice, but this time it’s clear it’s Faith. ‘Welcome home, lovely. Would you like a fairy cake?’

Alice spins round to see the woman she thought was her friend locking the door, pocketing the key. Shock ricochets through her as she notices a knife in Faith’s hand.

‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ Faith says. ‘I almost thought you wouldn’t respond to my kind invitation. But I knew once I sent you the photo of your father’s portrait, you wouldn’t be able to resist.’

‘Cameron? You’re Cameron?’

‘Well no, obviously I’m not Cameron.’ Faith laughs. Shakes her head so her ponytail sways.

Alice’s eyes leap around the room once more; the bars at the window, the huge magic box, shelves crammed with tricks, the puppet tea party, the muddy-brown walls, the grass-green carpet – outside, inside. She knows this place – she’s been here before. Suddenly, she’s five years old – helpless.