Daisy Darker(41)

One Mississippi . . . Two Mississippi . . . Three Mississippi . . .

There were other times, when a storm sneaked up on us in the night, when I would have to hide alone, under my own bed in my room. But we could always hear one another counting through the walls in the darkness. The closer the storm got, the more frightened we became, as a flash of light lit up whichever room we were hiding in. I’m sure my sisters are probably sharing the same silent memories now.

One Mississippi . . . Two Mississippi . . .

The doors on the built-in wardrobes that line one wall of the room all have wooden slats. As I take one last look around, I’m convinced I see one of them move out of the corner of my eye. I stop and stand perfectly still, listening.

‘Trixie?’ I whisper.

I hear something.

‘Trixie, are you in there?’

The silence that follows suggests I must have imagined it. But then I hear what sounds like someone breathing very quietly.

I want to fling the doors open, but I’m scared of what I might find.

A flash of lightning lights up the sky outside the window for a second time, and I think I hear something move behind the wardrobe doors again. It’s impossible to ignore now, and I force my feet to take a step closer. I pretend that there is nothing to be afraid of, even though events so far tonight suggest otherwise. The wardrobe is within touching distance, and I slowly reach for the handle. Then there is another flash of lightning.

One Mississippi . . .

I don’t get to two.

The thunder claps as though eagerly applauding the show before it is over. The noise is almost instant and so loud that it seems to shake the house. The lights go out and I am a child again, terrified in the darkness, too scared to move or make a sound. I tell myself it’s just a power cut and try to stay calm.

But then lightning strikes again.

It illuminates everything, including the wardrobe doors, and I see two eyes between the slats staring right at me before the room goes black.

Then the doors start to shake and rattle.

Someone is trapped inside, and they want to get out.





Twenty



31 October 2:15 a.m.

less than four hours until low tide

It all happens so fast: the lightning, the eyes behind the wardrobe door, the darkness, and then the sound of Rose’s voice right behind me in the room.

‘What are you doing in here?’ she asks, and at first I think she means me.

She has a torch – as though she knew the lights were going to go out – which she aims at the wardrobe before flinging the doors open.

Poppins the dog jumps out, rushing towards us. She barks and wags her tail before licking Rose’s hand.

‘Who put you in there?’ Rose asks, and when the dog doesn’t answer, they both turn to stare in my direction.

‘It wasn’t me,’ I say.

‘There’s no sign of Trixie in the other bedrooms,’ Conor says, appearing in the gloomy doorway. He holds up his hand to shield his eyes from the light when Rose points her torch at his face. ‘Where did you get that?’ he asks.

‘When I checked Nancy’s room it was under the bed,’ says Rose. ‘I thought it might come in handy if the lights went out – they often do when there is a storm – and that wasn’t all I found there.’

‘Trixie?’

Rose lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘No. This.’

Conor steps further into the room, and Rose produces a small floral bag.

Conor shakes his head. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s Lily’s missing diabetic kit.’

‘I thought she couldn’t find it. What’s it doing under your mother’s bed?’

‘I don’t know.’

The bedroom door squeaks, telling tales on the person behind it. We all turn and take a step back – I’m not the only one who is afraid now – and Rose’s torch reveals Lily standing on the landing. She has used her lighter to find her way in the dark, and is still holding it up, like someone at a pop concert. Her face looks strange, as though she can’t quite see us.

‘There’s no sign of Trixie in Nana’s bedroom. Did you find anything?’

‘No,’ answers Rose before anyone else can. ‘Let’s head back downstairs, maybe Nancy might have had more luck. Try not to worry, we will find Trixie.’

‘Okay,’ Lily says, nodding, as though desperate for someone else to take charge. The habitual fight has gone out of her, and she seems broken. It’s as though Lily’s lights switched off when Seaglass’s did.

Rose leads the way with her torch as we creep downstairs in the darkness. Our silent fear seems as loud as the storm outside. It’s even colder down here now that the fire has almost burned itself out, but that isn’t why we are huddled together in the lounge. Conor takes a candle from the mantelpiece and lights it, and we return to the window seat – the last place we all saw Trixie.

‘I don’t understand, she was right here,’ Lily says, picking up the blanket and holding it to her nose, like a dog checking for scent.

‘We’ll find her,’ says Rose, but from the tone of her voice I’m not convinced she believes it. ‘You look pale. I found this upstairs. When did you last inject?’

Lily takes the diabetic kit from her and unzips it straight away ‘Hours ago. Where did you find it?’