The moth’s wings beat against the light bulb with a faint tap, tap. The light is so bright it feels wrong, like when Mum used to wake me at dawn for a school trip. I know life goes on, but perhaps this is how everything will be now: harsh and cold and wrong. The moth drops to the table with a tiny thud. Its thick body is covered with fur, its bug-eyed face part alien, part rat. Velvet-soft wings unfold to reveal two white unseeing eyes. Funny how things appear so different when you stop to look at them.

I don’t know how long I sit with my head on the table – until my legs are numb from the cold and my arm throbs with pins and needles. Sitting here won’t bring her back. With a heavy sigh I go to the front door and slide the bolt shut.

I make my way to the spare bedroom, the one I shared with Mum whenever we visited. On each side of the room is a single bed built into its own little nook. The carved wooden frames are painted grey-blue and stencilled with yellow and red flowers. With blue velvet drapes to close out the night chill, it was like sleeping in a fairy tale. One of the beds is messed up now, sheets tangled with crocheted covers, and the room smells faintly of boy. I close the door and go to Mormor’s room, where I crawl into bed with a sob.

I’m running through fog, but no matter how fast I run, I can’t escape the twisted tree. Its gnarled arms snatch at my hair and tear at my clothes as thick roots erupt from the earth and grab my ankles. Mormor has her back to me and is grasping for a piece of cloth hanging from a branch, even though it’s hopelessly out of her reach. I cry out and she turns to face me, and her eyes are two black orbs.

And then I’m inside the hollow chamber of the tree, knee deep in rotting leaves and dead things. Dirty black claws reach for me and I scream in terror. I’m sinking fast, up to my waist, my chest. Falling into the earth itself.

‘Mormor,’ I sob. ‘Please, I need you. Please, you can’t be gone … Mormor!’

I shudder with relief, my mind somewhere between sleep and waking. It’s OK, it’s just a dream … And then the real nightmare slams into my head: Mormor is dead.

My eyes snap open to darkness and for a second I’m back in hospital, my eyes bandaged tight. My heart hammers in my chest. Why can’t I see? And then the shape of the huge wardrobe looms into view. I’m not blind – it’s just dark. I take a deep breath and try to stop my panic.