‘This is where she kept me,’ she whispers, memories flooding in unbidden, her stomach churning, as the recollections fill her head. ‘Verity. This is where Verity kept me.’

‘Mmm, outside inside.’ Faith glances about her, not losing her smile. ‘I loved coming up to see you when I was little.’

Alice stares at Faith, an avalanche of memories the room has triggered crushing, impossible to take in, make sense of. ‘You visited me sometimes.’ She takes a step forward. ‘You made me tea, and fairy cakes. You called me Rosie.’

Faith claps her hands like an excited child. ‘I’m so glad you remember.’ She screws up her nose. ‘It was only pretend tea.’

‘Yes. Only pretend,’ Alice whispers, reaching for more memories, catching the scary phantoms as they drift by, bile rising in her throat. And suddenly it’s all there, as if it was only yesterday.

PART FOUR

‘It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.’

Lewis Carroll

Chapter 38

1994

Hugh

‘Who is this little girl, Verity?’ The child was lifeless in Hugh’s arms; her head flopped against his shoulder, the awful stench of the attic room still ripe in his nostrils, making him want to heave. ‘She’s so thin, for Christ’s sake. Who does she belong to?’

‘Calm down, Hugh, I can explain.’ Verity picked up a tin of beans, shoved it back into the carrier bag. ‘You’re over-reacting.’

‘But the kid hasn’t said a word since I found her; she’s so limp, lifeless.’ He was shaking, afraid of what his sister had done. ‘How long has she been up there? Who is she?’

‘It’s Rosie, Daddy,’ Tiger said, in her usual bright voice, as she tugged on the hem of his jacket, staring up at Hugh with wide blue eyes. ‘She’s my puppet friend. I told you that already.’

It was obvious to Hugh that Tiger really believed that the helpless little girl in his arms was a puppet. What game had Verity been playing at Flynn House, while Hugh had hidden himself away from life at the cottage? Hugh’s pulse whooshed in his ears, and a swirl of guilt and fear whipped through his body. What had his sister done?

Verity grabbed Tiger’s arm and tried to tug her away from Hugh. Hugh pulled back, determined to keep hold of her, his knuckles white as he gripped the child’s hand. Tiger let out a scream – ear-splitting. Their ridiculous game of tug-of-war was hurting her. Hugh released his grip, and Verity wrapped her arms around the child, pulling her close, as though her arms were chains, her hands padlocks.

The strange little girl from the attic room, still flopped in Hugh’s arms, was around five or six, about the same age as Tiger, though tiny by comparison. ‘Who is she, Verity?’ he said again, pleading.