In the darkened room Juliet sat quietly on the bed. “Would you like your water now, Mrs Fowl?”

Laughter. “Don't be so formal dear – call me Mother. And, no, fetch the hairbrush.”

“Yes ... Mother,” she said, guiltily.

Once it was in her hand, Angeline sat up and began to gently brush Juliet's hair. “Tomorrow you'll let me braid your hair, won't you?”

“Yes,” said Juliet.

“And then we'll go shopping and I'll buy you lots of pretty dresses,” said Angeline happily.

“Yes,” whispered Juliet.

“And then we'll bake a chocolate gateau – your favourite.”

“Yes,” mouthed Juliet, wishing it were true.