I stepped gingerly out of the room in time to hear glass breaking. I ran to the annexe to lock myself in my room but before I got there I heard her screeching, louder than ever before. She must have been lying on the floor, screaming through the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. ‘My name is Denise Norton, I’ve been kidnapped! I’m locked in. I’m Denise Norton. Please, break down the door! Let me out!’

I heard brief scuffling from the kitchen and then ran to the sitting-room window again. The man must have jumped back out through the window, and I could see blood pouring from his hand as he sprinted across the lawn, dived into the hedge and over the wall. I ran back to the annexe. She was still shrieking her name over and over. I knew by now where Dad kept the key and I reached up to the kitchen cupboard and took the key out of the mug. As I opened the door, she was straining towards it, still chained by the ankle, clutching the small child by the hand.

‘Oh, thank God!’ she said, sobbing, and then she stopped abruptly. ‘It’s you? Peter? I thought they were different footsteps. You’ve got so tall.’

Her face crumpled and silent tears coursed down her cheeks. I looked at the girl by her side, who was staring at me from behind her mother’s hip. She was silent, and thin too, with huge eyes, but paler than any child I had ever seen. Her skin had an almost blue tinge. She clutched the bear, my Toby, in her other arm. Denise was cleaner than the last time I had seen her. Still thin, but without the bulge in her belly. She was wearing an old dressing gown of Dad’s. Her hair, though clean, was hanging limply down her back, tied with a rag. I looked around the room. She had a bright lamp now, and on top of the fridge there were a few potatoes and apples. She had three blankets, and the mattress behind her looked a little fresher than the one I remembered. There were no visible bruises this time.

‘Peter –’ her chest was heaving as she tried to get the words out – ‘is he here? Whose were those footsteps? They weren’t yours or his. And I heard glass breaking. What happened?’

I took a step backwards. She put her arms out to me. ‘Please stay, please. You should meet your sister, Mary.’ I stopped and looked back at the girl. Her mother babbled on. ‘I promise I won’t ask any questions. I must have been mistaken about the footsteps. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that again. Don’t tell him.’ I darted forward and grabbed the bear out of the girl’s hands. The girl started to squeal and cry. Her mother raised her voice then. ‘That’s her only toy. It’s the only thing she owns. Peter!’ I edged backwards to the door.

‘Please don’t tell him! He’ll kill me this time. He’ll kill your sister!’ She dropped to her knees.

I was stronger now than I was on our last encounter. I aimed a kick and connected with her face. ‘Don’t talk to me.’

‘Oh God,’ she gasped as blood poured from her nose. ‘You’re just like him. He’ll kill me and you don’t even care.’ I was shocked at the blood, shocked at what I’d done. I turned and left, bolting and locking the door behind me.

I took the bear, stepped over the broken glass and went back into my room, slid the bear under my pillow and kept vigilant watch on the hedges until Dad came home.

Dad went into a rage when I told him what had happened. He made me repeat every part of the incident word for word. ‘She definitely said her name?’

‘Yes, over and over again, she kept shouting it.’

‘You think he heard it?’

‘Definitely.’

I had never seen him so angry. ‘I’m fucked! That stupid bitch. The burglar will tell someone.’ And then he ran upstairs and he shouted at me to pack a suitcase. I’d never heard him use the ‘f’ word before. I didn’t have a suitcase. I followed him to his room upstairs where he was frantically rummaging through drawers. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, my voice trembling.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘What shall I pack?’

He threw a holdall bag at me. It glanced off my head. ‘Stop whining like a girl. Pack what you need … No, wait, pack everything you own. Leave nothing behind. Don’t just stand there. Hurry up!’

I ran to my room. ‘How long are we going for?’ I shouted.

‘A long time.’

I had no idea how long that meant. The bag was small. I rushed around the room. I had three changes of clothes, four books, three copybooks. I hesitated and then grabbed Toby from under my pillow and stuffed him into the bottom of the bag. I had skipped telling Dad that I took Toby. Some instinct told me he would not be happy about that. There was nothing left in my room. I hoped that wherever we were going would have a bigger bed, because my feet stuck out of the end of this one.

‘Quick!’ said Dad. ‘Get into the car.’

I opened the front door and, as I went to the car, I could see Dad pass through the hall towards the annexe. The next thing I heard was her screaming, and him roaring, and the child crying.

25

Sally