‘No,’ I smiled, ‘just boring old thoughts and emotions.’

‘Ah,’ he said, but I could hear his smile. ‘Right then, out with it. The prophecy please…’

That night, I woke up every half hour, the outcome of the day to come keeping me on edge. At three-thirty a.m. I couldn’t take it any longer and I reached for the diary to see how the day had been affected and what the events of tomorrow would hold.

I reached for the torch beside the bed and with a pounding heart opened the pages. I had to rub my eyes to make sure what I was seeing was correct. Words were appearing, then disappearing, sentences half-formed, which didn’t make sense, would appear then vanish again as quickly as they’d arrived. The letters seemed to jump off the page as everything was jumbled, without order. It was as though the diary was as confused as my mind, unable to formulate thoughts. I closed the book and counted to ten, and full of hope, I opened it again. The words continued to jump around the page, finding no meaning or sense.

Whatever plans I had put in place with Weseley, tomorrow had certainly been affected. However, exactly in what way was still unclear, as it obviously depended on how I lived the day when I awoke. The future hadn’t been written yet. It was still in my hands.

In the moments that I did manage to sleep, I dreamed of glass shattering, of me running through the field of glass but it was a windy day and the pieces were blowing, scraping my face, my arms and my body, piercing my skin. But I couldn’t get to the end of the garden, I kept getting lost among the rows and a figure stood at the window watching me, with hair in front of her face, and every time the lightning flashed I could see her face, and she looked like Rosaleen. I woke up in a sweat each time, my heart thudding in my chest, afraid to open my eyes. Then I’d eventually go back to sleep only to walk myself straight back into the same dream. At six-fifteen I couldn’t force myself back to sleep again, and I was up. And though my entire plan was to help Mum get back to being herself again, I checked on her with the faintest hope that she still wasn’t okay. I don’t know why-of course I wanted her to get better with all of my heart-but there’s always the part of you, the part that hides in the shadows protecting the self-destruct button, that doesn’t ever want to leave the dark behind.

I was the first person downstairs at six forty-five for the first time since I’d moved here. I sat in the living room with a cup of tea and tried to force myself to concentrate on the book about the invisible girl that Fiona had given me. I was averaging about a paragraph a day but I must have got lost in the story without noticing because I didn’t see or hear the postman approach the house, but I heard the envelopes land on the mat in the front hall. Always happy to do something different in the house where everything went like clockwork, I went to the hall to retrieve them. They were literally just beyond my grasp when a hand came in and stole them away from me, like a vulture had flown down and scooped up its prey.

‘No need for you to do that, Tamara,’ Rosaleen said brightly, shoving the envelopes into the front pocket of her apron.

‘I don’t mind. I was only picking them up, Rosaleen. I wasn’t going to read them.’

‘Of course you weren’t,’ she said as though the thought had never crossed her mind. ‘You just relax and enjoy yourself,’ she smiled, and rubbed my shoulder.

‘Thanks,’ I smiled. ‘You know, you should let somebody do something for you for once.’ I followed her to the kitchen.

‘I like doing it,’ she said, getting to work on the breakfast. ‘Besides, Arthur is good at a lot of things but he’d be boiling an egg till September if you let him at it,’ she chuckled.

‘Speaking of September, what’s going to happen?’ I asked finally. ‘The plan was for us to stay for the summer. It’s July now, and well, nobody’s talked about September.’

‘Yes, and it’s almost your birthday.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘And we need to talk about what you’d like to do for that. Have a party? Go to stay with some friends in Dublin?’

‘Actually, I might like a few friends to come stay with me here,’ I said. ‘I’d like them to see where I live now, see what I do everyday.’

Rosaleen looked a little shell-shocked by that. ‘Here? Oh…’

‘It was only a thought,’ I back-tracked quickly. ‘It’s so far for Laura and Zoey to come, and it would probably be too much hassle for you…’

I waited for her to jump in and reassure me, but she didn’t.

‘Anyway, I’d rather talk about my future than about my birthday.’ I changed the subject. ‘If we’re still here in September, which is looking like what’s going to happen, how am I going to get to St Mary’s from here? There aren’t any buses, or at least none that pass by here. I doubt Arthur would want to drive me to and from school every day…’ I waited for her to tell me that’s exactly what was going to happen. But again, she didn’t. She started getting breakfast ready, taking out the pots and pans that usually served as my wake-up call.

‘Well, that’s something you’ll have to discuss with your mother, I suppose. I can’t tell you the answers.’

‘But, Rosaleen, how am I supposed to discuss anything with Mum?’

‘What do you mean?’ Clatter, clatter, bang, crash. All systems go in the kitchen.

‘You know what I mean.’ I jumped up and stood beside her, but she still wouldn’t look at me. ‘She doesn’t talk. She’s completely catatonic. I don’t get why you refuse to admit this.’

‘She’s not catatonic, Tamara.’ She finally stopped and looked at me. ‘She’s just…sad. We need to give her space and time and let her figure it all out herself. Now, will you be a good girl and fetch me the eggs from the fridge and I’ll show you how to do a nice big omelette this morning,’ she smiled. ‘How about I put a few peppers in it for you?’

‘Peppers,’ I said perkily and her face lit up. ‘Lovely juicy problem-solving peppers,’ I said happily, then dragged my feet to the fridge to fetch them, as her face fell. I took out a green and a red one. ‘Oh, look, hello, Mr Green Pepper. How’s about you solve the problem for me? Where am I going to go to school in September?’ I held it to my ear and listened. ‘Oh, no, it mustn’t be working.’ I shook it. ‘Maybe I’ll try the red one. Hello, Mr Red Pepper. Rosaleen seems to think you can solve the problem about my life. What do you think is going to happen? Shall we send Mum to a madhouse or should we leave her upstairs for ever?’ I listened again. ‘No. Nothing.’ I tossed the peppers down on the counter. ‘Looks like the peppers can’t help us out today. Maybe we should try some onions,’ I said, faking excitement. ‘Or grated cheese!’

‘Tamara,’ I heard Arthur say, warning in his tone, and I stopped. I trudged out and sulked in the living room. Even though we’re not allowed to eat in the living room, Rosaleen brought the omelette in to me. A decent kind person would have apologised, instead, I asked for salt.

At ten o’clock I watched Rosaleen scurry out of the house with the tray loaded with enough food to feed an entire family, and among all of my worries about the day, one of them was that her mother would reveal my visit to her. Just because I hadn’t written about it, it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. At ten fifteen, Dr Gedad’s car pulled up outside the house. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

‘You must be Tamara,’ he beamed, while walking up the path. He immediately made me smile. He was tall, slender, fit-looking. His hair was greying and was tight on his head. He had high cheekbones and soft eyes, which gave him a slightly feminine look, but yet he was masculine and handsome. I welcomed him in and shook his hand.

‘Well good morning to you. Isn’t it a great summer we’re having.’ He spoke from the back of his throat, as though he’d a piece of bread stuck there, slightly muffled, but in a lovely singsong way. His Madagascan accent was mixed with some words that were spoken with a pure Irish blÁs. It was a lovely, peculiar sound. I liked that I felt somebody from outside of here was going to freshen things up, shake things up, fix them.