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voice I knew immediately to be hers, yet not hers. I wrenched the door
open fully and ran down the hallway to the drawing room. Mama was lying on the floor, her face ashen, her arms clutching at Lily.
    ‘Quick, Miss Eleanor, ask Katie for the salts.’ Lily waved me out of the room. ‘Hurry now.’
    I did as I was told. I felt strangely calm, a state I now know to have been shock. I remember watching, in a curiously detached way, as Lily was becoming more and more frantic. The salts had
done nothing to revive Mama. She seemed to come to from time to time, only to lapse into fresh weeping again and again, and languish somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. She kept
calling for Papa, or rather saying his name to herself over and over, as though trying to make it reveal something to her. His name was the only word I could distinguish; I could make no sense of
anything else she said.
    I ran to the window once I heard the front door close and I watched Papa leave. I understood even then that he was being taken away from us, and I wanted to cry out, to tell those men to leave
him alone, but no sound would come. I can still see myself, all these years later, standing mute, frozen, by the drawing-room window. I was aware of what was going on around me, but powerless to
respond.
    Katie had come running from the kitchen once the detectives had left with Papa, and now I could hear her exclamations as she tried to help Lily with Mama. Together they tried to get her to
stand, so they could at least carry her over to the sofa. But her body was limp and heavy; all her strength had abandoned her. I remember that the room and its occupants all came into focus once I
heard Katie’s tone, really frightened now.
    ‘Surely we should call Dr Collins,’ she said, and I could see her glancing in my direction. I must have looked lost and terrified, because Lily called me over to her at once, shaking
her head at Katie, trying to smile at me at the same time.
    ‘I’ll go get some water and lavender oil,’ she said. ‘I think she’s a little bit calmer than she was. If we bathe her forehead and her wrists, she should come
round.’
    She gripped my shoulders now, making me look up into her kind face. The touch of her large, solid hands made me feel real again.
    ‘Don’t worry, pet. Your mama has just had a shock. Come with me and help carry the water.’
    I remember that I went with her obediently, glad to have something to do other than watch Mama’s shaking body, and listen to her great, gulping sobs. When we returned from the kitchen,
Katie was kneeling on the floor, supporting Mama’s head on her knees. I was relieved that the sobbing had eased. I began to hope that everything would be all right again, that we would all
get back to normal. The room seemed to be that little bit more familiar, the strangeness of catastrophe receding somewhat. Perhaps what had happened was the result of a misunderstanding. Everyone
would soon be sensible again, the house would return to normal and Papa would come back, smiling and relieved.
    ‘Just a mistake, Mouse,’ he would say cheerfully. ‘Nothing to worry about. Just a mistake.’
    Carefully, I carried the bowl of lavender water over to where Mama was lying. I touched her hand.
    ‘Mama? Are you feeling better?’
    She smiled at me then, very weakly, but at least her face seemed to have lost some of its earlier formlessness.
    ‘Thank you, dear, yes.’
    I watched Lily wring out the excess water, and apply the cool cloth to Mama’s forehead. A subtle scent of lavender drifted upwards. I liked the smell, liked the whole ritual of putting
drops of oil into the water, wringing out the cloth, placing the compress on Mama’s forehead; all these smooth, deliberate movements seemed to calm everyone, not just Mama. Katie handed her a
glass of water, and she sipped from it until it was almost empty.
    Eventually, she was recovered enough to stand up.
    ‘Let me loosen your