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way that was a blessing. Vera was always complaining about Peter and Thomas’s friends, and to suggest entertaining some of Ronnie’s would be like showing a red rag to a bull.
    As she sipped her tea she thought of Peter. Stan had given him a thrashing and Vera had been very cold towards him, though she was warming now.
    But it could have been so much worse. A scarred arm was better than a scarred face.
    She shivered. Ronnie frowned. ‘What is it?’
    ‘I was thinking of Auntie Vera.’
    ‘You feel sorry for her, don’t you?’
    She nodded. Her friend Kate walked past outside, arm in arm with Mickey Lee. Kate was marrying Mickey in two weeks’ time. Both gave her a wave.
    ‘Why?’
    For a moment she didn’t register what he’d said. When she did she put down her cup.
    ‘
Why?
Ronnie, what a question.’
    He stared at her, his eyes solemn.
    ‘Don’t you feel sorry for her?’
    Silence. The eyes, unblinking, bored into hers as if searching for something.
    ‘Ronnie?’
    ‘She’s horrid to you. She made you cry.’
    ‘No she didn’t. I was just being silly. I told you.’
    ‘She wanted me to be adopted.’
    ‘She was just angry. She didn’t mean it.’
    ‘Yes she did.’
    Again she thought of Peter. In the aftermath of the accident he had insisted that he
had
put his roller skates away. That someone else must have left them there. Thomas perhaps. Or Ronnie.
    But that was ridiculous. Ronnie had no interest in roller skating. He would never have left them lying around in such a dangerous place.
    Unless he had done so deliberately.
    Something stirred in her head. Threads of a memory buried deep in the dark side of her mind. A conversation betweeen Ronnie and herself over a story book.
    ‘
Jemima’s only got one wish left. What would you wish for if you were her?
’
    ‘
That Auntie Vera was in heaven
.’
    An image crept into her brain. Ronnie standing by the kitchen door. Watching Vera. Waiting for her back to be turned. Carefully picking his moment …
    She pushed it away as if it were diseased, erecting mental barriers to prevent it from ever entering again. How could she think that of her own child? Her darling. Her little Ronnie Sunshine.
    The only person in the world she had to love.
    Someone called Ronnie’s name. Catherine Meadows was leaving. She gave Ronnie another wave. This time he responded. Catherine smiled. She was a pretty girl who promised to be an even prettier woman. The sort of woman who might one day steal Ronnie away.
    ‘You’re teasing me, aren’t you, Ronnie. You’re sorry for Auntie Vera really, aren’t you.’ Her tone was declamatory rather than questioning.
    He blinked. For a moment his eyes were troubled. Shame, perhaps.
    ‘Yes, Mum.’
    And he meant it. Of course he did. She knew it.
    He took another sip of his drink. Bubbles went up his nose and he began to splutter. Everyone looked over. ‘Hey, Ronnie, you wan’ everyone think I poison you?’ cried Mr Luca from behind the corner. She wiped his mouth with her handkerchief and both began to laugh.
    Midnight: 41 Moreton Street was still, except for Ronnie, who made his way along the upstairs hallway towards the last door on the left.
    The door was closed. He turned the handle and pushed it open. Only a foot. No more, as it would squeak. He had tested it that afternoon while everyone else was downstairs. But it was enough for him to enter.
    A double bed stood in the centre of the room. Uncle Stan slept on the right-hand side, Auntie Vera on the left. Though the room was in darkness the curtains were flimsy and the street light provided illumination.
    He crept towards Auntie Vera, treading carefully to avoid the creaking floorboard near the window and trying not to shiver. It was cold and he wasn’t wearing his dressing gown. If they woke he would pretend to be sleepwalking. Thomas had been prone to sleepwalking when Ronnie’s age. Ronnie had heard Auntie Vera telling Mrs Brown about it.
    Auntie Vera lay on her back, her