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even though she was with us for such a short while, I loved her so dearly?
    ‘ “How could you?” My words came out harsher and deadlier than I expected. It was a cruel joke this woman had played, especially when she must know of the loss my family and I had suffered this November past. How could she be so insensitive, when she and everyone else in the town knew of our pain? It had been plastered all over the newspaper for everyone to see. But although we received flowers by the bundle and condolence letters by the stack, how could anyone have truly understood how we felt?
    ‘Perhaps I was being unfair. I didn’t recognize her – maybe she didn’t know what had happened to us. “I–I’m sorry,” I said to her quietly. She couldn’t possibly understand what my family had gone through; there was no reason for her to. I had no right to talk to her in that way. I handed the doll back and turned away from her, tears streaming down my cheeks as I walked back to my brother.
    ‘ “You think I don’t understand, but I know.” I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, which caused me to look back. “I miss my darling boy,” the woman said, not meeting my eyes. “I miss him so much that sometimes I feel as though I’m breaking from the inside out. The only thing holding me together is the thought that he wouldn’t want that, and neither would your sister.”
    ‘ “Your boy,” I asked. “What happened to him?” In a way, I didn’t want to hear the answer, but for some reason I knew I had to ask the question.
    ‘ “Walter didn’t wake up, just like your sister,” she said, and I saw how wrong I was to have judged her as I did everyone else.
    ‘She introduced herself to me as Miss Rebecca Hatfield, and asked if I would like to see a photo of her son she kept at home. Knowing it might help her cope with her loss, I agreed without thinking twice about letting my brother know, for he was still engaged in conversation with his friend. Besides, I thought I wouldn’t be gone long.
    ‘Miss Hatfield led me along block after block. It felt strange without a family member accompanying me. I was used to being watched over, and this felt like freedom to me.
    ‘The house we came to wasn’t stately in the least, although I’ve done it up over the years and now I’m quite fond of it, especially this room. But back then its gable was crooked and its colours drab. The shingles were falling off the roof and there was no porch to speak of. I was surprised she could have afforded a photograph of her son. Once she led me inside, however, I found the tidiness and warmth that permeated the house made it much more welcoming than my own. There was none of the polished-yet-cold atmosphere I found in the way my mother kept her house; similarly, Miss Hatfield turned out to be much less distant than my mother.
    ‘Miss Hatfield brought out a cake she’d baked, along with – of course – some tea, which I later learned had a drop of the lake’s waters in it. I remember we talked for at least an hour. What of, I don’t rightly recall, but I suppose I told her of my life, just as she disclosed parts of hers. I say parts, because though I failed to notice it then, she was keeping portions of the truth from me and twisting her story to suit herself and her objectives. She introduced me to the idea of immortality through the same stories I told you, and some more we haven’t got to yet. She explained to me the simultaneous gift and curse it was to live for ever. At the time I thought she was merely delusional, and that she was making those stories up. I still wish she had been.
    ‘She told me that now I was just like her, and there was no turning back. She said I was destined to become her and that we would live out our endless lives together. At one point I became so scared that I asked her to stop. I accused her of things I dare not repeat even now. I begged and pleaded with her, but to no avail. Miss Hatfield said I needed to know