As for her mother, Bailey had never really broached the subject of Mister Snigiss with her. Bailey knew her mother didn’t like to dwell too much on Jennifer’s disappearance; her primary method of dealing with it had been to bury herself ever deeper in her religious beliefs. But now, as they both sat at the kitchen table drinking mugs of tea, Bailey thought it an appropriate time to raise the issue.

Taking advantage of a pause in their current conversation in which her mother had been lecturing her on the tenets of her Christian faith, Bailey took the opportunity to speak.

‘Mum, do you remember much about Mister Snigiss?’

Her mother frowned. ‘You normally hate talking about that, Bailey.’

‘Well… I was just curious, that was all.’

Her mother tilted her head in recall. ‘Yes. I remember Mister Snigiss. I remember when Jennifer first started going on about him. Your father and I were a little worried at first. Jennifer would suddenly start talking to someone who we couldn’t see. Or she’d tell us that he was in the car with us. She’d say “You can’t see Mister Snigiss—”’

‘But Mister Snigiss can see you,’ chimed Bailey, completing the sentence.

Her mother sighed. ‘Yes. We thought it was a sign of mental illness, so we went to the doctor, but he told us that it was normal for a child of her age to have an invisible friend. Apparently it’s most common between the ages of three and eight, and it’s usually the older child who does it, and it happens more often with girls than boys. So, all in all, Jennifer was nothing unusual. When we asked why she was doing it, he said that kids do it in order to practise their social skills, or something like that. And I suppose Jennifer was always a very imaginative little girl.’

Bailey nodded slowly. ‘But you never…?’

Her mother shook her head. ‘Not once did I ever harbour the kinds of suspicions that your father developed about Mister Snigiss after Jennifer went missing. No. My view was, and still is, that Mister Snigiss was just an imaginary friend and nothing more.’

Bailey looked out through the kitchen window into the back garden, the setting for most of the fantasy adventures that she and Jennifer had embarked on under the auspices of Mister Snigiss. Bailey couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the apple tree in the corner, still there after all these years. When she was five years old, she’d climbed to the top, and promptly got stuck, causing her parents to have to call in the Fire Brigade to rescue her.

But now the garden was overgrown. Her mother had neglected to maintain it, and with her father ill, it would no doubt get even shabbier. Seeing the old shed where he kept the lawnmower evoked a sudden pressing sadness, not helped by the drizzly overcast weather. God, suburbia could be so grim.

Bailey rose from the kitchen table.