“You never tell us anything about our mother,” I tell my father, as he lies back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. I wouldn’t dare ask him anything about our mother if he wasn’t so drunk that he can’t stand up. I look at my pathetic excuse for a father; the dribble coming out of his mouth and the dazed eyes. I doubt it’s just alcohol in his system tonight.

“Your mother was smart and perfect for me to control,” he mumbles out.

“Did you love her? Why did she leave?” I ask him, and he laughs.

“I never loved her, only one girl was for me and–” he goes to answer and falls to sleep, his body falling onto the sofa. I wonder who the girl he loved was, and I hope she is far away from this mess of a man. When I look at my father, it makes more sense why my mother left, but I will never understand why she left us with him. What kind of mother would leave her children with a monster?

“This place looks rough,” Tilly says as I pull into the drive of the mental home. She must be thinking the same things as I am. The place doesn’t have a colour in sight, even the grass is dead, and the trees look like they are ill. The building is massive but looks like a reformed warehouse. There are gates to get into the driveway, and the building itself has moss growing all over it. Some of the windows look broken, and all of them have thick bars on the outside. There is a massive door with steps up to it, and I pull my car into the parking bay next to five other cars. I look over at Tilly, who I don’t even want to bring into this place. It looks like something out of a horror film, and the online pictures must have been years old because they had flowers and the pavement wasn’t cracked in them.

“You don’t have to come in, I know this place looks dodgy as hell,” I mutter, and she takes my hand, as I turn the car off and pull the keys out.

“I’m in this with you, remember?” she says, and I lift her hand, kissing it gently before we both get out of the car. I wrap my arm around Tilly’s waist as we walk up the steps, and I hold the door open for her. There is a big desk with stairs behind it, and several doors in the corridor. Everything is grey in here, much like the outside of the building. The woman behind the desk must be in her sixties, with long, grey hair and a nurse’s uniform on, but she matches the décor.

“Can I help you?” she asks me, and I smooth my suit down before answering her.

“Is there someone called Julia Smith here?” I ask, and she nods.

“Ah, you’re her visitor this week. Her frequent visitor told us you would be coming,” she says and picks up the old-fashioned phone. It looks close to falling apart, like most of the building if the cracks in the walls and holes in the floorboards are anything to go from. How is this place not shut down?

“Please write your names and sign here,” she says and hands me a pen. I write both mine and Tilly’s name down before I hand her back the pen. Tilly gives me a strange look, not knowing what is going on either, but we wait as the lady speaks to someone. The door to the left is opened, and a security man comes out. The man is young, with dark hair and a serious expression, dressed in a blue uniform.

“This way,” he says, holding the door open for us. I walk into the large room, which is full of windows that overlook the dead grass and dead trees. The place is dark, a few of the lights need replacing, and it looks in bad shape with bits of wallpaper falling off. The room is full of old and young people, who don’t look like they notice we have walked in at all. Most of the young people I see are just staring at their hands in their laps, and one girl with black hair is rocking back and forth in her seat. I pull Tilly closer to me with my hand, and she rests her head on my arm as neither of us know what to say about the sight we are seeing. Most are talking to themselves, some are playing cards or chess in the corners of the room, but no one is talking loud. There’s no noise in the room, and that’s the creepy part. I turn and watch as the security man locks the door behind us.

“Which one is Julia Smith?” I ask him, and he gives me a puzzled look. I guess it must be strange to have someone turn up for a visit and not know who they are looking for.

“You’re here for Julia? The woman is a little crazy, so don’t get too close. She tends to flip, and attack visitors, and you don’t want her doing that to your pretty girlfriend,” he says, and I glare at him. I don’t need a warning, and if Arthur was visiting this person, I respect her for trying to attack him, “Dude . . . just a warning,” he says holding his hands up. Tilly squeezes my hand to get my attention, and I force myself not to hurt the innocent security guard for being an idiot.

“Just show us,” I say, and he nods, moving in front of us and walking through the people in the room. I stop in my tracks when I see who he is pointing at. Sitting in a chair, looking out the window is an older version of the woman I have seen in photos. I can’t remember her as a child, but you would know your own mother anywhere. Even one that left when I was a child.

“Mother,” I say tightly, and I feel Tilly squeeze my hand in comfort. My mother doesn’t respond as she stares out the window in a haze. I don’t see anyone other than my mother as I walk forward and sit in the seat opposite her. When she finally turns to look at me, I see her green eyes and her brown hair which has started to go grey at the top. But, it’s her emotionless eyes that do me in.

“Who are you?” she asks me.

“Harley King,” I say, and she holds a hand out.

“Harley . . . I’m Julia, and I like your name,” she says, and I shake her hand. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition from her when I said my name. My mother’s name isn’t Julia.

“Do you not know who I am?” I ask her, letting go of Tilly’s hand and kneeling down, so I’m at her level, and she smiles.

“No, but you look familiar. Like a ghost,” she says and then laughs a little. “I like ghosts,” she adds, and I look over at the guard who watches us.

“I will be right back, Julia,” I tell her, and she nods, looking back out the window. I stand up and move closer to Tilly, who just watches.

“I’m going to find out what I can. Will you talk with her? See if she will tell you anything?” I whisper.

“Of course,” she says, knowing the story I had been told that my mother walked out on us all when I was a child. I don’t believe she did, not if she can’t remember us and is in a place like this. I look back once more at my mother, seeing the dazed look she is giving the window. I wonder how many drugs she is on.

“I want to know what happened to my mother to end her up in here. I’m her next of kin, and I thought she had just walked out on us as children. Not that she is clearly not in her right mind and in a mental hospital,” I tell the security guard, whose eyes widen.

“Look, I will take you to the boss, she will be the only one who can tell you anything. I’ve only been working here a few months, man,” the guy says and holds his hands in the air. I take a deep breath and nod at him. He opens the door for me and goes to talk to the old lady behind the desk who picks up the phone and rings someone.

“Go and watch my mother and girlfriend. If anything happens to them while I’m here, I will personally blame you,” I warn the man, who gulps and quickly goes back into the room. I pace the entrance hall for what seems like ages, but likely isn’t long, until an older woman walks down the stairs behind the desk. The woman has dark-brown hair, a serious expression, and is wearing a suit.

“I’m Mrs. Banna, you are Mr. King, I believe?” she asks me, and I nod. She hands me a folder and then gestures to the seat.

“Everything we have on Miss Julia Smith is in there, but I can run through what we know if you wish?” she asks me.

“Yes.” I nod curtly.

“I had just started working here when Julia was brought in. She had been found in a hospital, with no identity and a massive, head injury. They say she was found washed up on a beach and when she woke up, with no knowledge of her name, they brought her here,” she tells me. I wonder what my father did to her, to have her end up on a beach with a head injury. I doubt she did it to herself, and my father was sick enough to do it.

“Why did you keep her here? If it was only a loss of memory? She isn’t crazy?” I ask her, and she shakes her head at me.

“Your mother has episodes where she attacks people randomly. She wakes up in the night screaming but can’t remember what was scaring her in her dreams when she wakes up. To be honest with you, if she had a family to go home to, it could happen, but until now . . .,” she says and doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She hasn’t had anyone until now.

“Arthur visits her, doesn’t he?” I ask.

“Yes, there’s a man who visits her. He visits a lot of the people here and is just a good man–” she says with a smile.

“He is not a good man and is likely the one who put my mother in here with help from my father,” I spit out, standing up. The woman looks shocked but doesn't know what to say to me.

“I will find a better place for my mother to stay, she can’t be left here. I will pay for it all to be sorted and to have her close to my home. Despite who my mother was, she is my mother and my responsibility,” I say, and the woman nods her understanding.

“I will also be calling my private doctor to have a look at her and see what medications she should be on. She looks out of it in there,” I comment.

“She is on–”

“I don’t want to know. I’m leaving,” I say and go to the room, banging on the door. The security man opens it up, giving me a nervous look as I walk over to Tilly and my mother. My mother is laughing a little at whatever Tilly is saying to her.

“Lovely girl,” she tells Tilly, holding her hand.

“It was lovely to meet you, Julia,” Tilly says.

“Come back?” she asks, but her eyes look up at me.

“I will come back, and I have some brothers that would like to meet you, if you want?” I ask her, kneeling down on her level. When I kneel, I see the large cut that goes from her forehead into her hairline. Her dark hair covers it further, but it looks bad, even knowing it’s age.

“Yes. Meet more people,” she nods her head excitedly, and it makes her seem more childlike than the adult she is. I smile tightly and take Tilly’s hand as I straighten up.

“Bye, Julia,” Tilly says.

“Bye, Tilly,” she says and then looks back out at the window. I turn with Tilly and walk out of the room.

“Watch my mother. It’s your new job, and I will pay you a fortune to make sure she is safe until she leaves here very soon,” I tell the security guard, whose eyes widen, and he quickly nods.

“I will protect her for you, Mr. King,” he says.

“Good man,” I reply, waiting for him to open the door. When we are both sitting back in my car, I rest my head against the steering wheel.

“Did she say anything to you?” I ask Tilly, who just silently waits for me to move. Just there supporting me, knowing I need a minute.

“Nothing much. She talked about a show on TV she liked but nothing else. She kind of acts a little like a–”

“Child.” I finish her sentence, looking up as she nods.

“They gave me this. But basically, it says she was found washed up on a beach, with complete memory loss and a bad head injury,” I say and hand her the folder.

“Harley . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“How am I going to tell my brothers this? The mother they hate for walking out on them, likely didn’t walk out at all. It’s more likely our dad got rid of her, and then Arthur kept her here to use against us at some point,” I say, leaning back in my seat.

“You tell them the truth and let them make their decisions. They are adults now, Harley,” she tells me, and I know she is right, but part of me still wants to protect them from this.

“I still see them as the boys I tried to protect from my father,” I tell her, and she gives me a sad smile, just as her phone starts ringing in her pocket.

“It’s Devon, I’m sure it can wait . . .,” she says.

“No, it’s okay, answer it,” I tell her, and she does.

“What?” she says, her face draining of all colour and then she drops the phone out of her hand as she stares at me.

“Tilly?” I ask her, wondering what the hell her brother just said.

“Daniel knocked my mother out and took my baby,” she says in a horrified whisper. I pick the phone up off her lap.

“Devon, it’s me, call everyone and get them to my house. We have a dead man to find,” I say.