the walls of the landing and going down the stairs. A carpet of similar hue. At the bottom of the stairs sat a tortoiseshell cat, washing itself. It looked up at her when she moved and meowed softly, before continuing with its ablutions. It looked a gentler cat than Nelson. Along the landing itself were several doors: bedrooms and the bathroom no doubt. Everything was nicely painted or varnished.
‘All right,’ muttered Chloe to herself. ‘Let’s see who or what’s downstairs.’
She prepared herself for a confrontation. Those who owned this house, who lived here, would not take kindly to an intruder. At least she was a young girl and not a large threatening man. However, if confronted she didn’t want to launch into a story about Attica. No one would believe her. She decided she would make an excuse for being in the house and play it by ear. Once she knew where she was in relation to her own home, she would go back up to Alex. They could mark the trapdoor, look for Jordy, find the watch, and all three of them return down through the house to freedom.
It was as simple as that.
‘If that woman comes I shall say I just found myself here,’ she reasoned, ‘and have lost my memory.’
She didn’t like telling lies, but there was no other option. If the police were called at least she would get home and she could convince her mother of the truth: she would eventually believe her daughter. Ben would be a tougher nut to crack, but Dipa would win him over.
Alex’s voice floated down to her as if from many miles away.
Chloe began to descend the stairs. The cat stopped washing and regarded her with interest. One of the stairs suddenly creaked rather loudly. A woman somewhere in her forties – the same that had put the box in the attic – came out of a room and looked at Chloe. There was a frown on the woman’s face, but it looked like one of those frowns some people wear permanently. She stared up at Chloe with penetrating eyes.
The cat very sensibly wandered off into another room, leaving the humans to their rituals.
Chloe steeled herself for an angry or shocked attack, but none came; instead, the woman’s voice had an exasperated tone to it.
‘Oh, there you are. Where have you been, child? The dinner’s getting cold.’ The woman peered up at the landing. ‘And what have I told you about leaving on the landing light? Electricity costs money.’
Despite being stunned by her reception, Chloe’s natural instinct was to defend herself.
‘I didn’t switch it on.’
‘Please, Sarah, do give me some credit for intelligence. No one’s been up there but you.’
‘You were. You went to the attic.’
A befuddled expression came over the woman’s face, then she simply said, ‘Oh. Well, do hurry up. We’re all waiting for you. What have you been doing in your bedroom? On that silly computer, I expect. I told your father when he bought it we’d never get you away from it. Why can’t you be more like your brother? He gets out in the fresh air.’
The woman was quite thin and anxious-looking, wearing a black dress, pearls and high-heeled shoes. Her hair was tight around her head, almost like a black swimming cap. She was dressed as if she were going out for the evening. Suddenly she reached out and pulled one of the ends of Chloe’s string which had been tied in a bow. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ The woman stared upwards at the length of string, which led to the open trapdoor of the attic. ‘Have you been up there?’
‘No, you left it open.’
The woman was clearly very irritated by the puzzle.
‘Why have you tied yourself to that string?’
‘I – I just wanted to.’
‘You really are a most peculiar child.’ She stared hard at Chloe, before adding in a low voice, ‘I’m glad you’re not mine. I’m glad none of you are mine. If I had my way …’ There was a call from inside the room: a deep male voice.
‘Are we going to eat, or what?’
The woman put on an attempt at a smile, pushing Chloe into the room before her.
‘Here she is. Playing computer games again, George. We should really limit the children, shouldn’t we? I try to be reasonable about this matter, but it’s become an obsession with them.’
Chloe said flatly, ‘I was not playing computer games.’
The man, balding, a little overweight, wearing a suit, white shirt