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“Not like that. Jesus! She’d left the door open, and I was passing. She had it around her thigh. I think it’s some sort of Catholic thing, you know, like as a punishment or something?”

Bernard turned his nose up and flung the spiky belt onto the bed. “Sounds fucking kinky to me. And they call my lot perverts!”

“Ruth wasn’t so bad in the end, was she? As long as we kept our heads down.”

“Yeah, bit like living with a big mouse, I suppose. Maybe it was her shitting in the kitchen cupboards?”

I laughed. “Yeah,” I said, although she always reminded me more of a bird than a mouse.

As we exited Mum’s room, I put out an arm to halt Bernard and raised a finger to my lips.

“Shh!”

Bernard’s brows crumpled in confusion until he caught my drift. We hopped along the landing towards our room, retracing our childhood steps. Bernard stumbled and landed on a squeaky floorboard. We looked at each other with wide eyes and burst out laughing.

“Ah, do you remember how Pyg used to do it, too?”

“Such a clever girl. I miss her, Georgie.”

“Me too.”

“Oh my God, it stinks in here.” Bernard covered his face.

I managed to crack open the window and fresh air spilled into the room. “Eau-de-teenage-boy-and-stinky-dog.”

“It’s disgusting.” The springs loudly protested as Bernard flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

I knelt and pulled a shoebox from under my bed. After blowing off the dust, I opened the lid. Inside were a few treasured possessions, including the Christmas book. I smiled and held it up.

“Remember this?”

Bernard bounced onto his side and grinned.

“I wrote in it after you left.” I opened the cover, looked down at the long list of markings on the page and read the final one aloud. “Three miserable Christmases without you, Bernie. And one without Pyg.”

“I couldn’t come back here. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I get it. This place sucked the joy out of everything. You’re right, we should bloody torch it.”

“Nah, she’d be more pissed off at the thought of us enjoying her money.”

I laughed and closed the book back in the box of keepsakes.

Bernard swung his legs around and stretched up. “I’m going out for a fag. I’ll make us another cuppa.”

* * *

I claspedthe doorknob of Grandmother’s room, my imagination feeding my mind with images: sunken eyes latching onto me through the darkness, a puckered mouth twisting into a sneer, sagging flesh hanging from skeletal arms, and claw-like fingers reaching out from the bed. I took a steadying breath and pushed into the room. A cool draught gushed out, and with it, I could’ve sworn I heard the hiss of “little bastards”.

After Grandmother’s stroke, much of her speech had been lost, as was the use of her right-hand side. Her lips could no longer pucker in disgust, but the phrase “little bastards” somehow still came out of them loud and clear.

Thankfully, Ruth had stayed on as Grandmother’s primary carer after she’d been discharged from hospital, over a year after she’d burned the studio and injured her hand in the process. She lived the rest of her days in this room, wallowing and alone, apart from Ruth. She even refused visits from the priest.

I stepped to the window, tugged the curtains open and daylight bathed the room. Only then did I allow my gaze to drift to the bed and dispel the workings of my imagination.No withered corpse passing judgement from between the four posts, just worn, dusty old bedlinens.

The wardrobe was stuffed full of clothes that hadn’t been worn for years, most of them so moth-eaten they’d likely end up in landfill. I pulled out the seat at the dressing table and sat in front of the mirror, its surface cloudy and de-silvered with age. The dressing table drawer rattled but didn’t budge —locked.

I opened Grandmother’s jewellery box and started as a ballerina sprang up and creaked out a full turn to a few eerie notes before stopping. The treasure she’d been guarding amounted to no more than a few tarnished rings and a pearlescent brooch in the shape of a feather —oh, and a key.I turned it in the lock of the drawer, and it clicked open. At the front was a velvet box containing a gold pocket watch inscribed with the name of the grandfather I’d never met. Another box contained a set of military medals.