“No,” said Colin, shaking his head. “It is cursed but not by the soldiers. The curse came before the war. The reason people say this house is cursed is because it killed my mother and now it intends to kill me as well.”

“My mother’s dead too.” The guilty secret Mary had been carrying around inside her, the secret she couldn’t even let herself think about, suddenly burst out of her. “I killed her!”

Mary knew this was true. She had wished her mother dead, and her wish had come true. She stared at Colin, wondering how he would react.

He looked at her doubtfully. “Did you really?”

Mary nodded.

Colin sighed and then spoke in a strangely grown-up voice. “Well then, we both know tragedy, don’t we?”

Feeling relieved that he hadn’t judged her or said she was awful, Mary edged a step closer.

“What did you mean—this house intends to kill you?” she asked.

Colin’s face closed like a clam. “I do not wish to speak about it,” he said curtly, turning his head away from her. “You may go now.”

Mary was taken aback at the sudden change in him, but if this strange new cousin thought she was going to beg and plead to be allowed to stay with him, he could think again. She lifted her chin. “Very well.” She walked to the door and looked back over her shoulder. “I suppose you may see me again,” she said airily. “Or you may not.”

“But . . .” Colin began.

“Good night,” said Mary, and she left the room.

“Come back!” she heard Colin exclaim indignantly.

Mary smiled to herself. So it was just as she’d thought: he hadn’t really wanted her to leave. Well, good. He needed to learn he couldn’t order her around. Not if they were going to be friends. Friends! With an excited spring in her step at the thought, she hurried back to her own bedroom.

That night, Mary dreamed of India again. This time she was giggling as her father chased her, pretending to be a tiger. “I’m going to get you!” he growled. “Where are you, little monkey?”

Mary dived into her mother’s bedroom. Her mother wasn’t there. Where to hide? She pulled the wardrobe open, but it was too full of beautiful dresses. She looked under the bed, but there wasn’t enough space and so she jumped under the covers and lay as still as she could.

She heard someone enter the room. She tensed in delight. Daddy was going to find her! Footsteps came over to the bed, and the covers were raised. Mary opened her mouth to squeal, but it wasn’t her father who was staring at her—it was her mother and her eyes were harsh and cold. Mary scrambled out of the bed and fled. . . .

Mary was woken up by Martha shaking her by the shoulder. “Wake up, girl!”