I step back from the window and look around the room, narrowing my eyes as I try to imagine Connor and me lying in bed in here. The thought of my neat-freak boyfriend even setting foot in this hovel makes me giggle. Someone has lived here though, I think to myself, as I see a stack of boxes piled up by the door. Probably an old person, judging by the dated kitchen units and peeling wallpaper. I take a peek into one of the boxes. It’s full of books. I read a few of the spines: Delia’s Complete Cookery Course, Jane Fonda’s Workout Book, The Day of the Jackal. It’s an eclectic mix. All headed for the charity shop by the looks of it, I think as I riffle through. There’s a small paperback wedged at the side of the box. I pull it out and a shiver flutters through my body. ‘Good grief,’ I whisper as I run my fingers over the embossed letters on the cover: The Spirits of Holly Maze House. I open it up and see that it has been signed by the author, Geoffrey Rivers.

‘Mum,’ I whisper as I turn the pages and see those quirky line drawings I had loved so much as a child.

The day after Mum’s funeral Georgie had come upstairs to find me. I had barely left my room since the accident. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to hide away and pretend it had never happened, that Mum had just popped out somewhere and was going to be back soon. Georgie tried to make conversation but I turned away and faced the wall. I heard her put something on the side table, then she said, ‘The police found this in Mum’s car. I think she must have bought it for you.’ After she’d left the room I turned over to see what she had put there and when I saw the book I felt my heart burst into a thousand pieces. But then I remembered Geoffrey’s words – ‘These stories were written for any child who has ever felt out of place’ – and I picked up the book and started to read.

Once upon a time there was a boy called Angus. Now, young Angus was sad because he was all alone. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt alone before, truly alone, without a friend in the world. You see, when you are alone, the world can seem like a terrifying place, a cold place, with ghouls and monsters hiding at every turn.

Even now, all these years later, I can still remember whole sections of that book. I read it over and over again those first few months after Mum’s death until I became so familiar with the characters and the house and the story, I convinced myself they must be real.