I could tell something bad was happening when Father came into the parlour and stood in front of the fire. He always does that, stands in front of the fire and grips the mantelpiece, when there's something wrong.
Then Liam comes in and I can tell they've had another fight. They don't think I know, but they shout at each other so hard sometimes I can hear them wherever I am, even if I'm in bed. Sometimes Mother comes into my room and lies next to me on my bed and we fall asleep together while they rant and rage at each other. Things have been especially bad in the past few weeks, not because of the shouting, but because they haven't spoken to each other at all, and that seems worse after a while. I know it's because Liam miscounted some things at the warehouse and so Father's figures didn't add up as they should.
They think I don't know anything that goes on but I do, I know all about it; I can't avoid knowing.
Liam comes in and stands looking at father, not saying anything just staring. I'm frightened and I pick up my book and sit in the cubby-hole to the left of the fire, out of their way. I curl up and tuck my legs beneath me, and wait for it to start.
Liam begins by asking my Father where Anna has gone. He says her room is empty.
Father doesn't reply, just studies the flames a bit longer and eventually Liam grabs his shoulder. He raises his hand to Liam but Liam doesn't run, doesn't even flinch, and my Father drops his hand to his side and tells him that Anna is gone for good.
I didn't know that.
I close my book and look at Liam. He liked Anna. I know all about that. He used to make me take flowers to her when she was on her own, dusting the best room or cleaning the grate. She always refused to take them and I would return them to my brother, who would have them back with a funny smile and tuck them into his coat. Now his face is as white as a sheet and he says nothing as my Father turns and leaves the room without another word.
Then he comes to me and kneels in front of my seat. I smile at him and run my fingers through his hair. He takes my hand and kisses it as he always does, like I was a great lady and he a prince. Then he buries his head in the folds of my skirt and after a moment I realise he's crying. I've never seen him cry since... I don't know when, since I was just a baby; I didn't know he was so unhappy. I don't know what to do, and then I start crying too, just to keep him company.
After a while he looks up. His face is almost dry (why don't people cry properly when they grow up?) while mine must be all wet because he fishes out his handkerchief and gives it to me. Then he asks if I will help him and after I finish sniffing I say, of course, yes, I will. He wants me to take a message to Anna, there's no time to write it down so I must promise to remember. I look at him scornfully, as if I ever forgot a message in my life! And the message is short.
"Wait for me."
"Tell it to Anna and no-one else," he urges, "She'll be at the tavern on the waterfront. She'll be with Molly. You remember Molly?"
I say, yes, of course I do. I used to take messages to her all the time.
"Be careful, and don't speak to anyone else."
I ask, not even Molly?
"Yes," he concedes, "You can speak to Molly. But no-one else - if anyone else tries to speak to you down there, you must run home. All the way. And don't tell Mother or Father where you're going."
I promise, and slip out of the house, through the garden, and into the road.