As I stretch, I look down into the sink. A face looks back at me.

‘Shit!’ I slap my free hand across my mouth to stifle a scream and instinctively back away, dropping the knife to the floor. All power drains from my body. Jo’s voice echoes in my head: It could be a poltergeist. But I don’t believe in that stuff, not really. I’m a rational person. I take some large, deep breaths and stand on tiptoes so I can peek inside the sink again.

Not a ghost.

But it is a face.

I recognise the big, round, blue eyes, the mop of blonde hair.

It’s the boy from the missing picture.

His face has been neatly cut around – the kitten no longer part of the picture. Now my heart rate has returned to a normal speed, I remove the face from the sink and pick up the knife. Whatever is going on here is not supernatural. This is being done for a reason, by a living person.

I go back to Finley’s room and open the door again. With all the focus on Leo lately, perhaps Finley feels left out. Ignored, somehow. Miss Emery asked how the breakdown of the marriage affected the boys and I’d been quick to say they were fine. That they had no issues. He stirs. Is he just pretending to be asleep? I look down at my hands, at the boy’s face, then back at Finley. He knows it’s the picture I always say reminds me of him.

Is Finley trying to tell me something?

Chapter Fifty-Five

Amber

‘Cornflakes or … Coco Pops?’ I say with a smile. Finley beams at me before shouting for Coco Pops and scrambling to sit at the table.

‘You do know I’ve had them once this week already, don’t you?’ He shoots me a quizzical look. ‘You’re not teasing me, Mum, are you?’

‘No, love. As if I would. Just a treat, that’s all. You’ve been really good lately and I really love you.’

‘You’re so soppy.’ He crinkles his nose.

‘Oh, really?’ I say, putting my hands on my hips. ‘Who says?’

‘Dad.’ He laughs. ‘He’s always saying that about you.’

‘That I’m soppy? I can’t think why.’

‘It’s because you cry at every film we watch, Mum.’

‘Ahh. Right. Yes, I do, you’re quite right. You don’t take after me, do you?’

‘Nah. I’m tough, like Dad.’