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her father’s voice she’d heard in the Archers shop. Why didn’t they tell her the truth? Had they done something terrible to her Dad?
    She walked round the old town, head down avoiding the faces of Perfect. She had no friends and now it seemed she was losing her family. Her parents were all she had. They weren’t like normal parents either, not in the way other children’s parents were. They gave out to her if she was bold but usually they were great, more like friends than parents. Perfect had changed all that.
    Violet knew she couldn’t go home. If she went home her mother wouldn’t listen. She used to listen. Before they could sit for hours talking about anything but since moving to Perfect things had changed. Her mother didn’t notice her anymore. She didn’t notice anything.
    Her Dad wouldn’t listen either. He used to be great fun, always playing tricks. Her Mam said he was a big kid. Violet agreed because most of the time she couldn’t tell the difference between her Dad and the boys in her class. Since moving he was angry a lot. He’d be angry with her now for sneaking around the Archers. He was also strict when it came to manners and Violet hadn’t been at all mannerly to Edward Archer.
    She definitely couldn’t go home. She saw a bench and sat down to get her bearings. She’d been in this street before. On the wall almost directly opposite sat a sign The Birth Place of Messrs George, Edward and William Archer, first sons of Perfect. It rested on the only house in the town that didn’t look quite so clean.

CHAPTER 9
    Iris Archer
     
    The house was painted light blue like the sea in pictures of foreign countries. It was in disrepair compared to the other houses on the street.
    Violet’s heart skipped suddenly when she saw an old lady watching her from behind one of the murky windows. Quickly she looked away. When she looked back the lady was gone. A few minutes later the door of the house swung open and the old woman took back her place at the window. Was she inviting her in? Maybe the old woman knew something about William. What more could go wrong anyway? She stood up from the bench and walked towards the house.
    “Hello,” she called, stopping just outside the door.
    There was no response so she stepped into the hall. The house was as worn inside as it was out. The floor was covered in wonky wood that creaked with every step. Dust gathered thickly on everything in sight. The place was lit by the light that seeped through dirty lace curtain s making everything look grey. Dust hit Violet’s nostrils and she stifled a sneeze. A door was partially open into the room on her left.
    “Hello,” she said, pushing it in a little more.
    The old lady was sitting in her spot by the window, a shadow cast across half her body.
    “You opened the door,” Violet said, edging further in.
    “I did.”
    “Are you ok? Do you need some help?”
    “No,” the old lady croaked.
    She had long white hair that fell thinly to the floor, the bottom of it was browned by dirt. Her dress was worn but looked as if it may have been amazing in another life. The colours now muted were just a memory of a bright past. Barefoot and her thin boney feet poked out from under a frayed hem. Her face was kind though she had sad eyes.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Violet asked.
    The old woman didn’t answer and turned once more to stare out the window. Then it hit Violet.
    “You’re not wearing glasses?” she gasped.
    “Eyes don’t need glasses to see. They are the window to my soul, I will not curtain them.”
    “But...,” Violet stuttered, “how are you not blinded by the sun?”
    “It’s the sons that’s robbed me.”
    Violet stepped closer.
    “Eyes mad,” the old woman snapped, a warning.“Eyes mad. Them sons makes eyes mad. Iris Archer, they all say, that son’s no good. I protected him from Arnold, my William, my apple. Then jealous Ed and Georgie ate him.”
    “William Archer?” Violet asked, “is he