‘She’s real, she’s real, she’s really, really real,’ I say over and over as I scramble up the steps, glancing back down. My legs hurt and I’m panting, but it gets me thinking – if she’s real, then maybe I’m not.

My heart thumps as I emerge into the place where I used to play, making pretend boats, houses and hospitals. She told me not to stop, to get out, but I have to lean against the old refrigerator to get my breath back – the fridge he slides over the trapdoor to the cellar below to keep me safe. All tucked up, he said. I catch my breath, the air burning in and out of my lungs. As kids, we never knew about the chamber down below. No one did, apart from Daddy. If I had the strength, I’d shove the fridge back over the hole, sealing him in. But then that girl would be locked in too. If she’s even real.

She’s real. She’s real. She’s really, really real!

There’s a noise from down below. Has he come back to life? Or maybe it’s her. Maybe she’s bad and wants to catch me. Or perhaps he’s going to lock her up now instead of me. I take a step down again, pausing, but I feel sick so pull myself up again, listening carefully. Then the noise again. Someone moving about down there. A tiny bird flaps out of the chimney, veering away through a glassless window.

I step over all the rubbish and go to the front door, what’s left of it. I feel like crying because the whole world is out there and it’s really scary. But then I hear her words in my head again – Get out! – so I stand in the open doorway, sucking in the fresh woody air. Finally, I step outside, blinking as my eyes grow accustomed to the light, feeling the breeze on my face. Through the canopy of leaves above, I can just make out the sun, see a few clouds scudding along. It feels like summer. But which one?

Then another noise from inside the cottage, someone getting closer.

I try to run but can’t. My legs won’t have it. I set off through the trees, forcing them to work, grabbing onto the trunks as I make my way down the slope. I stumble, not knowing which direction to go. ‘Help!’ I cry, but my voice barely works.

Finally, I reach the edge of the woods and the world opens up into the biggest, most colourful painting I’ve ever seen. It’s as if an orchestra is playing. It stretches for a thousand miles left and right and up into the sky too. My mouth opens, and my tongue burns dry from the breeze. I spread my arms wide, throwing back my head. I laugh so loudly that I don’t even care if I’m discovered.

Then I see him. A man out walking his dog.

I drop to the ground, my fingers clawing at the moss and dirt and twigs. He’s down at the bottom of the field, dangling a lead, calling to his dog as it darts in and out of the hedges. But then the dog stops, standing proud, its nose stuck up and sniffing the air. It glances my way and sniffs again, barking. I’m behind a tree now but that doesn’t stop the creature looking right at me and letting out another high-pitched bark.

A dog… a man with a lead… me, alone…

I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the scream. Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me… I bite my palm, my whole body shaking, watching him walk away. The dog follows him, giving one last bark in my direction.

If you’d just stayed home, none of this would have happened…

I swing around to where the voice is coming from, but there’s no one there.

‘Yes, yes, I should have stayed inside…’ I whisper, my mind spinning back through what seems like a thousand million years. It’s as if I’m there again, standing, waiting, whistling to myself, trying to keep cheerful, but still he didn’t come. I glanced at my watch. It was new for my birthday. ‘Quarter to eleven,’ I said to myself, trying not to feel scared. It was dark and the latest I’d ever been out alone. The village disco finished at ten. ‘Come on, Dad,’ I said, shuffling from one foot to the other. ‘Where are you?’ I really needed the loo.

‘You getting a lift home, love?’ the lady who ran the disco said. She’d been sweeping up, and suddenly the village hall car park was plunged into darkness as she turned off the lights. I heard her locking the door, grumbling to her husband that I was still there, that they couldn’t leave me alone.

‘Yeah, my dad’s coming to fetch me. He’s probably been held up.’

‘Well, you just wait here for him, then,’ the woman said. Her husband, the man who played the disco music, took her by the arm and led her off to their car. He had his hand on her bottom. I watched the red tail lights get smaller as they drove the half a mile down the lane back towards the village. And then I was quite alone, standing outside the village hall in the pitch dark on a Friday night. I wanted to cry, but fought it back. I’d never be allowed out again if I acted like a baby.

My watch said five to eleven. If he wasn’t here by the hour, I was going to set off walking. It would take me forever to get to the farm, but I didn’t want to wait here alone all night. Mum would have been on time.

‘Hello there,’ a man’s voice called out, making me jump. I didn’t see him at first, out there in the darkness, but then I recognised him. ‘Bit late to be out alone, isn’t it?’

Something wet was licking my hands, scrabbling at my jeans. It was his dog. He called it off, but the dog didn’t listen. ‘I like dogs,’ I said, bending down and stroking it. ‘Good girl, Ginny.’ I ruffled her shaggy coat and gave her a big hug.

‘She likes you,’ he said. I laughed at that. ‘How are you getting home?’

‘Dad’s coming. He’s late. I think I’m going to walk.’ I peered beyond him, through the deserted car park and out into lane. The hall was just outside the village; if I turned left and walked for about a mile and a half, I’d reach the top of our drive.

‘It’s very dark,’ he said. ‘Do you have a torch?’

I shook my head.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Ginny likes a long run last thing at night. How about I walk you home? That way you’ll be safe.’

‘But what if Dad comes?’

‘Then he’ll pass us on the way.’

That was true, and he was being kind, I thought, even though I knew his house was in the opposite direction. ‘OK, then,’ I said, but only because I knew him. I put on my cardigan. It was starting to get chilly.

‘How was the disco?’ he asked, as we tramped along, the streetlights now behind us.

‘Noisy,’ I said. I wasn’t supposed to have gone to the disco at all. Mum wouldn’t have liked it. While the cat’s away, Dad had said earlier with a grin, but I knew it was only because he wanted to sit in the pub with his friends and he didn’t want to leave me home alone.

‘You mean I can actually go?’ I’d pestered him loads.

‘Just this once. But don’t tell your mum or I’ll be in trouble.’

And so, I didn’t. Mum, Jason and Claire had gone to Bristol to look at the university for Claire, and while they were there, Mum was going to buy Jason a new suit for church.

‘You’re getting all grown up, young lady,’ the man said, as we walked. I liked that. No one had ever called me grown up before. I went on to tell him about the disco, about school, about the animals on our farm, and a moment later, his big sweaty hand was snug around mine.

‘Don’t mind, do you?’ I saw the flash of his grin in the moonlight.

I shook my head. I knew this was the sort of thing grown-ups did. It gave me a funny feeling down low, but we walked on. After all, he came to the farm quite often. Mum always said he had an ulterior motive, whatever that meant.

‘You have soft skin, young lady,’ he said, slowing to a stop. ‘And a pretty young face.’ He trailed his finger across my throat. For a second, I was scared. No one had ever done that to me before. He smiled down at me. He was tall. Ginny ran between us, her soft fur brushing against my bare legs. I didn’t realise what the other feeling was immediately. It just felt warm and almost nice. When I looked down, I saw his hand was on my chest.

‘Don’t do that!’ It came out automatically, just like Mum had always said it would. ‘Please,’ I added, because he was a family friend.

‘But you like it,’ he said. ‘I know you do.’

I shook my head and backed away. I didn’t like it one bit. ‘Sorry,’ I said, as if I was telling him he couldn’t borrow my pencil sharpener. I started to walk off quickly, but before I knew what was happening, I was on my back on the verge.

It hurt so much. His hand was over my mouth the whole time while his other hand grappled with me down there. He undid his jeans and stuck something between my legs and Ginny began to bark. My vision was blurry. My tears were hot. My breathing was fast but my heartbeat slow. It went on forever – just like a million years – and cut me clean in two pieces.

‘Don’t fucking tell anyone, right?’

I heard his zipper. I nodded frantically, staring up at him.

‘If you do, I’ll kill your brother and sister. And then you.’

I shook my head frantically. He was the big boy from the village, the one everyone liked. ‘No, I won’t tell anyone, Callum. I promise on my life.’

I lay on my back and watched him walk back to the village. His dog ran after him. When I looked at my watch, it said half past eleven. Ten minutes later, the headlights came around the corner and a car slowed to a halt. I heard my father’s voice, saw his shocked expression as he stood over me. I couldn’t look at him; couldn’t stand for him to look at me, for him to know what had happened.

‘Oh God, Lenni, no…’ He was on his knees beside me, his hands searching me for injuries. ‘Dear God… I’m so sorry I’m late. Who did this to you?’ He touched the blood between my thighs and wept, letting out a big howl.

I stayed silent, just as I’d promised. I didn’t want Claire and Jason to be killed.

My father bundled me up and carried me to the car, sobbing into my hair. He told me that he was sorry a thousand times over, that he should never have let me go out, that no one must know about this until he could make arrangements.

I’m good at keeping secrets, I wanted to say, but couldn’t speak a word. He banged his fist on the car door, cursing himself for being late, swearing that he would never let this happen again.

‘You should have stayed inside the hall,’ he said, glaring at me in the driver’s mirror. ‘Mark my word, I shan’t let you out again.’ We drove off towards home, my father promising that from now on I would always be safe, that no one would ever know what he’d let happen to me. That no one would be able to do it to me ever again.

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Instinct tells me where to go and the house down at the bottom of the field eventually comes into view, taking my breath away. I take one last look back up towards the woods and the cottage and, like a flash of light – an angel with her blond hair trailing behind – I see that girl running away. She sees me too, and stops for a moment. Her eyes are as wide as mine. Then she urgently waves me on, disappearing into the trees. I only get a glimpse of the tattoo on her ankle, reminding me of something from long ago.

I press on down the hill, only glancing back once to see if she’s still there. She isn’t. The sight of home getting closer floods me with a puzzle of memories. As I approach the gate, the ground is rough. There used to be sheep in the fields but there aren’t any more, just a few goats, and there are chickens pecking in the courtyard now. Up close, it doesn’t look so very different to the faded, sepia photograph I’ve kept safe in my mind. I suddenly feel dizzy, as though I’m going to pass out, as if I’m in the wrong life.

I ease my way through the kissing gate, making the hinges squeak. I stop and go back, doing it again and again just to hear the noise. I close my eyes, remembering, hearing children’s voices streaming through my head until I realise that it’s my own giggles. I cross the yard, going right up to the house, feeling the warmth of the sun-soaked bricks radiating against my boiling skin. I don’t feel very well. I knock on the door, then I knock again. A lady comes, and I’m not scared at all. I know she’s nice, even though she’s frowning at me.

‘I want to come in. I want to,’ I say over and over again, but she tells me I can’t. Even when I point up the hill, showing her where I live, she still shakes her head.

I squint up to the woods again, hoping to see the girl so I can give her another wave. She made me promise that I’d never tell a soul what happened, that she killed my father. She said she’d been hiding in the woods for a couple of days, that she’d seen him coming and going to the cottage, that she knew he had a secret. She followed him down and hit him with the hammer, but only because he tried to hurt her first.

‘Everything bad inside me just came out,’ she said afterwards, shaking and sobbing. She had blood on her hands. I understood what she meant, except all my bad stuff was still locked up.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’m good at keeping secrets.’

I turn back to the woman at the door. It’s only when I ask about Goose that something gleams in the lady’s eye – a fragile bridge spanning a million years. Finally, she opens the door wide and my mother lets me in.

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