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Shannon felt too ill to do any housework, but she had no choice. She dropped a plate and watched as it smashed to smithereens. Unable to stop the tears, she slumped onto the floor and buried her face in her hands. She felt a squeeze on her shoulder. A small hand. Magenta.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up,’ Shannon said, but as she tried to stand, she fell back down again.

‘Don’t be sitting there when she gets home. She’s in a bad humour and you really don’t want to make her worse.’

Shannon wondered if Magenta was spying on her in order to report back to the woman. At this moment she didn’t care. She just wanted something to take down her temperature, and to sleep in her own bed.

Her hands trembled like mad and she figured it was withdrawal from alcohol. That reminded her of her time in rehab, her withdrawal from drugs, when John had made it bearable. Now he was dead. Laura too. Shannon had never properly bonded with her because Laura seemed to be stuck-up. Or, now that Shannon thought about it, maybe she was genuinely shy, or perhaps afraid. Whatever it was, both Laura and John were dead and she was being held captive in this… what? It felt like a prison, with all the locks and bolts on the doors and windows. How could people live this way?

Eyeing Magenta, gauging her mood, Shannon ventured, ‘Can you tell me about the woman who was here before me?’

The child sat down on the floor beside her. ‘I’m not supposed to say anything. But I’m bored. Are you bored?’

‘Kind of. Tell me about her.’

‘She was sad, and talked funny. They called her the stupid foreigner.’

‘She wasn’t Irish?’

‘I heard him saying she was a damn Polack . I don’t think that’s a nice word.’

Shannon had a feeling the girl didn’t know a whole lot else about the woman. ‘Tell me about your mother. What’s her name?’

‘I don’t even know if she’s my real mother. She’s so mean.’ Magenta chewed on her fingernail.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Can’t tell you or I’ll get beaten.’

‘I won’t tell anyone. You can talk to me.’

‘Nope.’ Magenta paused and Shannon held her breath, hoping. The child continued. ‘She is very careful, but he might talk if you’re nice to him. He killed the last one, you know. The sad foreign woman. He stabbed her.’

Shannon shivered and felt her fever spike, though she was chilled to the bone with fear. ‘How do you know he stabbed her?’

‘I crept down the stairs and saw him do it. But she was no use to them by then anyhow. She was… what’s that word? Delirious, I heard them say.’

Desperate to keep Magenta talking, Shannon was about to ask her about the locks and bolts on the front door when she smelled him. A weedy, manure-like smell. It was so pungent that when he came in through the door she tasted it on her tongue.

Picking the broken crockery off the floor, she put out a hand to Magenta.

‘What’s going on here?’ he growled.

‘I fell over. She’s helping me up,’ the child said.

Standing, Shannon smiled her thanks. The child glowered. An act to fool him? Totally confused, she took the rest of the plates off the table and put them in the sink. This time without letting them drop. She almost passed out as he came to stand behind her.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘for all our sakes.’

Then he disappeared into the bowels of the house.

It took a few minutes for her breathing to return to normal and a glass of water to get rid of his smell where it had clogged her throat. She’d love a real drink. Something to knock her out of this nightmare. Then, she swore she’d never touch a drink again if she made it out alive.