SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2013
MORNING
I’m not really sure what to do, so I just ring thedoorbell. I wonder whether I should have called first.
It’s not polite to turn up early on a Sunday morningwithout calling, is it? I start to giggle. I feel slightlyhysterical. I don’t really know what I’m doing.
No one comes to the door. The hysterical feelinggrows as I walk round the side of the house, downthe little passageway. I have the strongest feeling ofdéjà vu. That morning, when I came to the house,when I took the little girl. I never meant her anyharm. I’m sure of that now.
I can hear her chattering as I make my way alongthe path in the cool shadow of the house, and Iwonder whether I’m imagining things. But no, thereshe is, and Anna, too, sitting on the patio. I call outto her and h............