Alice had hated the car journey, but the prodding and poking at the hospital had proved to be even worse. Her injuries had required anaesthesia and many stitches, but the doctors seemed to be pleased with the outcome. She wasn’t sure why. She had caught a glimpse of her leg whilst the nurse was changing her bandages and it didn’t seem to look much better than it had before the nurses had gently, but firmly, held the gas mask over her face to prep her for the procedure. The skin was angry and red, puffing uncomfortably under tight, dark stitches. The nurse had been full of praise, telling Alice how brave she had been for staying so still and how it looked so much better already. Alice had smiled weakly in return, unconvinced.

“Won’t that be nice?” asked Alice’s mother, cheerily.

Alice’s attention had been elsewhere. Her father was outside the room speaking to one of the neighbours. The glass panels at the end of the ward prevented them from hearing the words being spoken beyond. The conversation was animated and angry, though not at each other. The neighbour was holding a coat as well as wearing one, which seemed odd. A baby blanket hung limply over his shoulder. She turned from the scene to face her mother with a blank face, uncomprehending of what had been asked. “huh?”

“I said, you’ll be able to ask Jess to sign your cast. Won’t that be nice?” repeated her mother gently.

“I suppose,” said Alice quietly as she raised the cast on her wrist delicately. Her skin itched beneath it already. She had tried wriggling her pinky finger down to scratch the offending itch, but her efforts had proved unsuccessful. “Why is Mr Hatfield here?” she asked abruptly, looking back out to the corridor and the men within it.

“We left the house in a hurry. We didn’t have time to grab very much so your dad phoned Richard to let him know what had happened. He’s been dealing with the police at home and offered to bring us some warm clothes too,” her mother explained. Alice nibbled her bottom lip nervously.

“You know that you’re not in trouble, don’t you Alice?” her mother asked gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Alice gave a small nod. She hadn’t expected to be in trouble but, despite all that had happened, a small part of her didn’t want the dog to be in trouble either. It wasn’t the dog’s fault. Not really. She figured that she’d be pretty angry at people too if she was stuck in a tiny, square garden and only ever got shouted at. She couldn’t even remember there being toys for it to play with.

Still, her sympathy didn’t stop her from worrying. In a small voice she asked, “Will the dog still be there?”

Her mother sighed a long, drawn-out breath. “I’m not sure.”

They sat for a while, watching the conversation outside continue. Her father’s weariness seemed more pronounced now, but he also appeared to be slightly relieved. A few more words were swapped before both men looked in their direction. Mr Hatfield waved cheerily, his smile evident despite his thick beard. Alice shyly waved in return when she saw her mother raise a hand to politely wave.

The extra items were dutifully handed over to Alice’s father and he returned to the ward through the glass door, wishing Mr Hatfield a farewell. Smalltalk was made while they waited for a doctor to discharge Alice and she knew better than to ask about the details of what had transpired between the two men. Her father had never approved of ‘adult business’ being discussed with children.

A nurse’s arrival signified the end of their wait and Alice was unimpressed to find that she was expected to shuffle into a wheelchair. I’m ten, not one hundred and ten, she thought sullenly. Her complaints that she would be able to walk were sternly admonished by her parents and the nurse alike.

Alice was surprised once more when, at the car, her mother opted to sit in the back seat beside her. She fussed over her whilst Alice gingerly transferred from the wheelchair to the car and clicked Alice’s seatbelt into place with a warm smile. Alice forced a smile in return. She felt like they were treating her like an infant, though she didn’t dare make her observation out loud.

The car ride home was tense. Though the radio played, it did little to soothe Alice’s nerves about returning to her home and the scene of the attack. Her parents made the journey in stoic silence which only served to dampen her mood. Her mother’s infrequent distracted pats on her leg felt more perfunctory than soothing. The impending dread built slowly as they travelled. By the time Alice began to recognise familiar streets and buildings, it felt suffocating, as though callous hands were slowly tightening around her throat.

Her home street seemed mercifully quiet when their car pulled up beside her house. Though well into the early hours of the morning, the sun had yet to make an appearance and all was still in the darkness. However, the peace was short lived. Their neighbour, the owner of the dog, burst out of his front door at the sight of the car. He was shouting and gesticulating wildly as he approached the car like an angry wasp that was ready to lash out and sting anyone within range.

“Shit,” said Alice’s father under his breath, before opening the car door to confront the man.

“What did you do?” The angry accusation was aimed at Alice’s father who gaped incredulously at the question before slamming the door angrily. The unexpected volume of the slam made Alice jump in fright and she reached out for her mother reflexively. Her mother was already scooting across the seat with an anxious expression on her face. She wrapped her arms protectively around Alice, stooping at an awkward angle to better watch the exchange that was ongoing outside the car.

“What did I do? What did I do?” her father shouted back vehemently. “You’re lucky you’re not in jail right now. Or worse!” he added, rolling up his sleeves and squaring up to the man.

The street erupted like an ant nest that had been disturbed. Neighbours began to pour out of doors hidden in the darkness, descending to defend the colony. Alice’s breath hitched in her throat as it suddenly felt as though the street was teeming with people. Please stop shouting, Daddy, she prayed desperately. The night had already been too awful, and they had suffered too much. The idea of her father upsetting the neighbours with this argument was more than she could bear.

Alice was left dumbfounded when the neighbours rallied around her father. Three men, including a very tired looking Mr Hatfield, stood beside him in solidarity. They spoke in low voices that were muffled by the car and the heavy thrumming of Alice’s heartbeat in her ears as she was pressed hard against her mother in fear.

“Where’s my dog?” demanded the angry neighbour, which caused a stir in the men. Voices began to raise, each shouting and yet none being heard.

A polite knock on the window caught both Alice and her mother off guard. They both jolted at the proximity of the sound and whirled to see the cause. Mrs Hatfield grinned at them impishly with an apologetic wave. Her blonde curls seemed to glow like an angelic halo in the coarse street light.

“Why don’t we get you two indoors? A nice hot cup of tea for Mum and a warm bed for you, Alice, eh?” she offered warmly.

Alice looked to her mother who was smiling gratefully at the gesture, nodding her agreement. The car door was opened, and Alice’s mother scooted back across to open the door on the other side to exit. “There’s a wheelchair in the car boot. She’s too big now for me to carry,” said her mother as she skittered around to the rear of the car.

“You just focus on me, poppet,” said Mrs Hatfield with a beaming smile. She was crouching now so that Alice no longer had to crane her neck upwards to see her. “I see you have a new pot on your arm as well.”

“Mummy said that I can get people to sign it. Like Jacob in school did,” replied Alice quietly. She liked Mrs Hatfield, but the noise of the ongoing argument was frightening. Her brain felt like scrambled eggs. Messy and unable to form words.

“Won’t that be lovely? Tell you what. I’ve got a nice pack of glittery gel pens in my house. I’ll let you borrow them if you promise to look after them,” said Mrs Hatfield.

“Glittery ones?” Alice asked.

“In every colour of the rainbow,” replied Mrs Hatfield, “and some extras that aren’t even in the rainbow.”

The two women helped Alice into the wheelchair and towards the house while Alice continued to ask about what colour pens Mrs Hatfield meant. The challenge to get Alice upstairs was more difficult and they ended up with Alice awkwardly straddling her mother’s back and being hoisted up the stairs with Mrs Hatfield following closely behind in case Alice began to slip.

Once in Alice’s room, Mrs Hatfield darted ahead to close the window which was wide open.

“Blooming freezing in here! Can’t have you catching a cold,” she chattered merrily as she leaned over to shut it. Alice frowned, confused by the sight. She hadn’t opened the window today and she couldn’t understand why her mother might have opened it. Leaves had blown in at some point and were scattered on the bedroom floor.

She continued to ponder this as she was gently lowered onto the bed.

“I’ll go pop the kettle on,” Mrs Hatfield announced as she headed back towards the door, “Sleep well, Alice.”

“Goodnight, Mrs Hatfield” replied Alice as she reached for where she had left her blanket. She looked around, perplexed when her hand found only empty space. “Where’s my blanket?”

“Not sure, Pumpkin,” said her mother, unconcerned, “You’ll need it tonight though. Why on Earth did you leave the window open when it’s so cold out?”

“I…” Alice started to speak but found herself hesitating. She knew she hadn’t opened it and could testify as such, but if her mother knew this, what would happen? Would she consider other alternatives? Would she question Alice about who may have opened it instead?

“I don’t know,” Alice finished weakly. Her mother studied her carefully with a worried crease in her brow.

Eventually, gently her mother said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s been a long day. Can’t be expected to remember every little thing.” Something caught her attention on the floor, and she glanced down, away from Alice. “Oh! Here it is!”

The blanket was pulled out from underneath the bed. Her mother tutted as she pulled a couple of errant leaves from the wool, before laying it over Alice carefully. She tucked her in and kissed her forehead. “No bedtime story tonight. You just get some rest.”

“Is Dad ok outside?” Alice asked.

Her mother smoothed Alice’s hair, gently teasing it away from her face. “He’ll be just fine. You make sure that you will be by getting some sleep”. She kissed Alice’s forehead once more before heading to the door and switching off the light.

Alice listened to her mother’s footsteps slowly decreasing in volume as she headed down the stairs. She kept her eyes tightly shut, not trusting herself in her fragile condition to be able to move the blanket to its customary position over her head. She would prefer not to tonight anyway, not after the leaves that had been stuck to it. How had they made it under the bed? The question felt redundant even as she thought it. There was only one realistic cause.

Nervously, she whispered into the darkness.

“Are you there?”

The familiar tap tap to indicate yes was felt on her good arm and she breathed a sigh of relief. She had been worried that perhaps her midnight friend had left the house to seek her out, knowing that she was injured. Whether a ghost or a ghoul, she had been concerned that this might cause him problems. She had read books on ghosts at the library, and they all agreed that they were bound to one place. What if he had become unbound and lost forever?

“Did you see what happened?” she asked. A lingering single touch was felt. Not quite a tap, but a sympathetic no.

“It was awful,” she said simply and shivered at the memory. There were no words that seemed to do justice. The blanket was pulled up a little higher around her neck and tucked in once more around her small frame. The kind gesture warmed her heart.

“Did you open the window?” she asked. Tap tap.

“Did you… go outside?” Tap tap.

She felt guilty at that, though she couldn’t place why. It hadn’t been her fault and yet she worried about the pain it had caused her friend.

“Were you… looking for me?” she asked hesitantly.

A single tap was felt this time.

“Then… why?” she asked out loud. She was unsurprised by the lack of response her question received. Twenty-one questions again, she thought to herself as she tried to make sense of the information she had so far. Her mind went back to what the neighbour had shouted. Something about his dog. Where is the dog? This realisation curdled her blood.

“Did you go looking for the dog?” she asked. Her heartbeat was rising. It was difficult to speak the words aloud.

Tap tap.

“Did you… let the dog out again?” she asked, terrified that the beast may be outside threatening others. What if she wasn’t the only one attacked? A single tap this time. Alice breathed a sigh of relief. But then… where is the dog?

“Did you hurt the dog?” she asked. Her voice cracked as she forced out the question.

A pause. A single tap. Was that guilt or Alice’s imagination? She couldn’t tell.

“Is the dog ok?” she asked, her concern unabated. There was no answer.

She refused to be dissuaded and redirected her questioning. “Do you know where the dog is?”

There was a lengthy pause before a single, gentle tap. Alice’s brow furrowed in confusion. Voiceless doubt plagued her. Had she misinterpreted the answers earlier? She realised belatedly that although she knew he had gone looking for the dog, she never confirmed that he found it.

“Do you know why the dog is missing?” she asked tentatively. Tap tap.

“Was it someone else that did it?” she asked, desperate for a yes. The delicate tap on her shoulder to signify a no felt more painful than any knife. It cut Alice to her core and although it had been a long time since she had really felt fear of the darkness, the terror was awakened in her now.

What did you do? How could you? The questions rose unbidden and felt treacherous, though the true betrayal had not been hers.

“Do you know where the dog is now?” she asked fearfully. The leaves under the bed. What if? The thought seemed too terrible to finish. A single tap brought sweet relief.

“But you still made the dog… disappear?” she continued. Tap tap.

“Will it come back?” she asked. Tap. She clutched at the blanket with her good hand, unsure of what to do or say. She felt overwhelmed. This was so much worse than spitefully taking a necklace. What else can he disappear?

“I think that it’s time for us to get some sleep,” she stated simply. Too exhausted and too upset to wish for an answer to her question. She was answered by a light stroking sensation on her arm.

Unable to settle her nerves, she began to sing a lullaby that her mother enjoyed singing to her so that she might calm herself.

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here’s what she said to me… Que sera sera…”