“What is this place?” he said in astonishment as she pushed him into the sparkling room. The radiant moonlight fell on the silvery cobwebs, and the gems on the gowns glittered brightly.

As Colin looked around, his shoulders tensed and his voice rose. “Was this my mother’s room? I don’t like it here, Mary. Take me back.”

“Wait!” said Mary, hurrying over to the pile of photographs. “You need to see these. I was three when your mother died and you and I are about the same age. What do you remember of that time?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Take me back to my room,” Colin insisted.

“Colin!” Mary took the box of loose photographs over to him. “Just look at these. Don’t be scared,” she said as he glanced away. “You’ll like them. It’s your mother and my mother together. Look.”

She showed him the top few photographs and stopped at the one with the two children in it. The boy was slim and dark; the girl was smaller with a chestnut-brown bob. They were holding hands with their mothers.

“It’s us,” Mary said softly. “It didn’t make sense at first because I thought I hadn’t been to England before, but now I think my mother must have brought me here when your mother was ill. Martha told me they were very close, so I think she came to see her twin—your mother—one last time before she died. Then afterward she couldn’t bear to talk about it and so no one ever mentioned it to me. Isn’t it incredible, Colin, that we met when we were young although neither of us can remember it? And look. I think we were inside the secret garden!”

Colin’s hand had started to shake. He pushed the picture away. “I don’t want to see,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

“But isn’t it extraordinary?” said Mary, her eyes shining as she rushed on. “And do you know what’s even more extraordinary? You’re walking in the picture, Colin. You don’t have a wheelchair or a hump and you don’t look ill. Colin, look . . .”

“No!” Colin exclaimed, shoving at her with both hands as she tried to put the photo back in his lap. “No. No. No! I said I don’t want to see. You’re just doing this to hurt me. You’re just jealous because my mother loved me and yours didn’t love you!”