It’s cold in this part of the house, and I shiver on the other side of the room as I lie on the bed that was always mine. I blink into the darkness, listening to the sound of Conor’s breathing as he pretends to sleep again. There are a galaxy of stars on the ceiling. They are the glow-in-the-dark sticker variety and almost as old as me. I expect they will continue to shine long after I am gone, just like the stars in the sky, and sometimes it feels as though nobody in this family would really notice if I just disappeared. Sometimes I think they wish I’d never been born. I close my eyes and a single tear escapes them, rolling down my cheek and dampening the pillow.
Sometime later, I hear a noise downstairs. I have never been a good sleeper, I’m not even sure whether I was asleep just now. That nightmare people sometimes have, where they feel like they are falling? I have it all the time. When I check the clock in my room, I see that it is almost exactly midnight. A few seconds later, the eighty clocks downstairs begin to chime their agreement. As soon as the final clock strikes twelve, I hear a terrible scream.
Nine
31 October, midnight
six hours until low tide
The screaming stops.
‘Did you hear that?’ I whisper, but Conor isn’t there.
I rush out of my bedroom, along the landing, down the stairs, across the hall, and into the kitchen at the back of the house. My niece is standing in the middle of the room wearing pink pyjamas that make her look much younger than she is. Trixie is crying. When I look down, I can see why.
Nana is lying on the floor in a white cotton nightdress. Her eyes are closed, her skin is grey, and there is a large gash on her head and a pool of blood beneath it. Poppins the dog is lying next to her, and neither of them are moving. A chair has toppled over as though Nana might have been standing on it and fallen. And I see that there is blood on the AGA oven, where it looks like she could have hit her head. Everything becomes silent and still inside the room, and seconds seem to stretch into minutes. Even the sea and the rain outside are suddenly quiet as I take in the scene, as though my world has experienced a freeze-frame. Then the sound of Trixie crying plays in my ears again. Tears are streaming down her face.
‘Shh, it’s okay. Just tell me what happened,’ I say to Trixie, rushing over and getting down on the floor next to Nana, careful not to touch her or make things worse. ‘Nana, can you hear me?’
She doesn’t move, but Poppins looks up at me with sad eyes and starts to whimper.
‘She’ll be all right, old girl. We just need to stay calm—’
‘What the hell is going on? Why are you out of bed and what’s with all the screaming?’ asks Lily, marching into the freezing-cold kitchen wearing nothing except a pink silk nightdress. Her daughter runs to her side. Most teenagers are children dressed up like adults, but my niece is still a child in so many ways.
‘Oh my god,’ Lily says, seeing Nana’s body. ‘Is she?’
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.
‘What happened?’ asks Rose, appearing from out of nowhere, and fully dressed as though she must have slept in her clothes. ‘Stand back and let me see.’
‘Why?’ Lily asks. ‘You’re not a doctor.’ Lily takes a step closer to Nana, and Poppins starts to growl. I have never seen or heard the dog behave this way before.
Rose steps between them. ‘It’s okay, Poppins, we’re just trying to help Nana. Come on, old girl. Move out of the way.’ Poppins does as she is told, as though she understood every word Rose just said, and watches from a short distance with her head bowed, quietly whimpering.
Rose gently feels for a pulse, but I don’t need to be a doctor – or a vet – to know that this isn’t good. The gash on the side of Nana’s head looks deep, she’s lost a lot of blood, and I have to look away when I see what might be brain matter in the red puddle on the floor. I’ve seen the same shade of grey skin on the faces of too many residents at the elderly care home where I volunteer, and fear I know what it means.
Conor appears in the doorway – fully dressed like Rose – and I wonder what took him so long and where he has been. Lily turns her back on him and tries to comfort Trixie. That’s when I notice Nana’s hands. One is holding a copy of Daisy Darker’s Little Secret. The other is holding what appears to be a cigarette, but when I take a closer look, I see that it is a piece of chalk. I stare at the black wall at the end of the kitchen. The recipes and sketches that were there earlier have all been wiped off. Instead there is a poem, just like the ones in Nana’s bestselling book about me. But the words have been changed. The book begins with the line Daisy Darker’s family were as lovely as can be. But the chalk poem on the wall is very different.