Alice watched her parent’s car drive away once more. Abandoned once again at her aunt and uncle’s home for an overnight stay.

She hadn’t spoken of what had happened the week before. She hadn’t known what to say about it. Part of her insisted that she should drop the issue entirely. After all, nothing had actually happened. Her uncle had opened the door to check if she was sleeping and her aunt had been annoyed at him – rightfully so! Yet the niggling doubts persisted, worming through her subconscious, and gnawing at her nerves.

Too late now.

Without having raised her concerns, she had no reason to deny her parents when they asked if she could stay again this evening. She had pouted and moaned, but her stubbornness was waived as mere childishness. It was easier if she stayed with family, they had assured her. After her next birthday, then she can stay home alone for the evening, they had promised her. Finally, when her sullen attitude had persisted, they had resorted to bribery. She stood on the doorstep with three new hardbacks in her hands. They had felt heavy when she was first given them. They seemed heavier still as the car disappeared around the corner at the end of the street.

“Come on in, Alice,” her aunt beckoned from within the doorway.

Could Alice refuse? The thought occurred to her that she could try. She could camp in the garden instead of the house. Perhaps she could wander the streets, wrapped in a blanket like some arctic explorer. Better yet, she could be whisked away like some heroine in one of her books. Life was no fun as a muggle.

Wearily, she turned and entered the house. The sombre note of the door locking behind her caused her to grimace. No music played within the home and the silence seemed to have a life of its own, taunting Alice and stealing away any light or joy that might have entered with her.

Her uncle sat in the living room. The TV before him flashed images of different sports. Again, the sounds were muted, as though even the celebrations of the crowds were unwelcome in his abode. A drab castellan taxing the masses of their childish delights and doling out cruel punishments in monochrome grey livelihoods.

“You’re not turning it over when the golf is on,” he stated accusingly as she entered the room.

Alice opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it. The oaf wouldn’t be interested in her words, only that she had opened her mouth to question his.

“Alice is a reader anyway,” her aunt said on her behalf as she busied herself, hanging Alice’s removed coat. “Aren’t you, Sweetheart?”

“Filling her head with nonsense,” he grunted in response, eyes firmly on the screen.

With a tensed jaw, Alice clutched her books to her chest protectively. Any nonsense seemed better than staring at a silent screen.

“Actually, Alice,” her aunt said, tone suddenly switching. “If you wouldn’t mind, I have a little favour that I’d like to ask.” She approached Alice and laid a soft hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve got myself into a bit of a pickle. I was wondering if you could help me tidy the skeins of yarn upstairs?” she asked gently.

Without hesitation, Alice nodded. She would have helped her aunt, regardless of the task, but at least this would be that her uncle was out of sight and her hands would be busy.

She followed her aunt up the stairs, making sure to take her books and bag with her. With any luck, she wouldn’t be expected to return downstairs and could retreat to the guestroom when the tidying was completed. She’d already eaten before her arrival, carefully timed to be as late as possible to avoid any need for snacks. This had been a point of contention with her mother who had prepared a family meal earlier in the day, which was promptly refused, but then reheated later in the evening.

Once upstairs, her aunt pulled open the hatch to the attic and stepladders were carefully pulled into position. The attic was solely her aunt’s domain and the tasteful decoration within shouted this fact with pride.

In earthy notes of natural wood and dusky greens, the attic offered a calm environment that seemed perfect for her aunt’s preferred activities. Baskets of unused yarn were neatly stacked against one side while cupboards lined the opposite side offering drawers to store any odds and ends.

At the far end was a wooden rocking chair that was generously padded. Beside it, a woollen pouffe that had been knitted by her aunt sat as an offering for Alice. She sat upon this, waiting for further instruction while her aunt pulled out one of the baskets of wool.

It turned out that her aunt truly did have a job at hand, not just an excuse for Alice to flee the oppressive atmosphere downstairs. The basket was teeming with small balls of wool, all of which were too small to start any significant project with. Alice stared into the basket with a puzzled expression. She knew her aunt was against waste, but this seemed excessive. Thankfully her aunt seemed to expect this and chuckled softly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting miracles,” she said warmly as she reached into one of the cupboard drawers beside her. From within it, she withdrew what looked like a misshaped babies’ hat. Alice frowned at the peculiar, multi-coloured item. Everything about it seemed to be haphazard and completely at odds with her aunt’s usual style of knitting. The item was offered, and Alice accepted it with a puzzled expression on her face.

“It’s a nest,” her aunt finally explained.

“A nest?” Alice repeated, still confused.

“For the wildlife centre nearby. They get abandoned birds every year… and other animals of course,” her aunt explained further. Alice turned the nest over and a sense of awe spread through her now. The hollow that she mistook for the interior of the hat was indeed like that of a nest. The thick wool would offer both warmth and support and the idea of tiny chicks nestled within it warmed her heart.

“It’s fiddly when the balls of yarn are so small. Unravelling, then winding, is a tedious job too though,” her aunt explained apologetically.

“It’s OK auntie,” said Alice with a smile. “I can help.”

Her aunt was right in that it was a tedious job. She was comforted by the feeling that at least the work had real purpose. There would be real benefits, rather than combining the small balls into multicoloured larger ones simply for ease of storage.

Her aunt asked her questions about the books that she was reading while they worked, and the time passed more quickly than Alice had expected it to. By the time that it was late enough that her aunt deemed it more appropriate for Alice to go get some sleep, they had a small stack of football sized balls rather than a basket of golf or basketball sized ones.

“In the morning, can I help you make some nests?” Alice asked as she descended the ladder from the attic.

“Of course. They’re simple enough to make. You’re a clever girl, you probably won't even need the pattern once you get going,” her aunt replied. The words were stated simply, her aunt was not one to patronise, and Alice felt the glow of pride within her chest at the words.

It took only a short amount of time for Alice to ready herself for sleep and she quickly found herself in bed, curled beneath her blanket and content. Even her initial anxiety seemed to have drained away, after all, her uncle had shown no interest in her beyond their first words. He hadn’t even glanced in her direction when she had retrieved her bag from downstairs, not even when she had wished him, “Goodnight”.

As she lay in the darkness, the blanket around her shuffled; a small flutter here, a small adjustment there. It was tucked around her feet, closer and more tightly than was usual. Clearly, her nightly companion was not feeling quite as relaxed as she was. In order to soothe him, she began to sing a song. She found that a lullaby would often ease her friend’s fidgeting when he was riled up or excitable.

She hummed through the beginning of the song, not quite sure of the lyrics until she reached the chorus, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.”

The fidgeting continued long after the song was completed, and Alice gave up on a peaceful night’s sleep. The noise of her aunt and uncle outside the door, readying themselves for bed preventing her from questioning her friend to work out the source of his anxiety this evening. His continuous restlessness made her uneasy, as though he warned of an impending danger that she couldn’t see.

When, at last, her aunt and uncle also went to bed and the lights beneath the door had clicked off, still the flutters continued, mirrored by a fluttering of Alice’s stomach. She lay still, contemplating her options. If she were at home, she could get out of bed and stretch her legs. She could sneak downstairs for a glass of water or a bite to eat. But then, were she at home, she supposed that her companion would not be so perturbed.

Alice was so engrossed in her thoughts that, at first, she did not notice the intruder in the room. A sudden, silent weight around her pulled her from her thoughts, like a protector standing above her. The atmosphere felt thick enough to cut with a knife and she could almost imagine teeth bared above her, warning any danger to approach with caution.

The room was still, but still the prickles crept up Alice’s neck as her hair began to stand on end.

At last, she could stand it no longer and she whispered out into the darkness, “Hello?”

“You’re still awake.” The soft reply made her flinch. She realised belatedly that it was her uncle’s voice, but something in his gentle tone put her on edge.

“A noise woke me,” she lied, thankful of the blanket and darkness masking her guilt.

There was a lengthy silence. Alice chewed her lip nervously. Had her uncle retreated from her room? The tension around her suggested that this was not the case.

“I wanted to say sorry for earlier,” her uncle then said.

No. The word was tapped with some force on Alice’s shoulder. Forbidding her. Or warning her?

Alice heard her uncles’ footsteps then, slowly approaching the bed.

“You came to say goodnight, I should have said goodnight back,” her uncle continued in the same soft tone. His footsteps continued to approach as he spoke.

Alice’s companion was emphatic in his response. A litany of taps was showered repeatedly across Alice, some of them with heavy enough that Alice was worried that they might leave a mark. The message was clear; No, no, no, as many times as was needed. She did not dare to move from her curled position, unsure of which of the two beings in the room she feared angering more. She remained facing away from her uncle, towards the wall, hoping that he would simply choose to leave her alone.

“Why don’t I pull back the cover a little so I can see your face?” her uncle crooned.

A whoosh of air and suddenly Alice was cold and exposed. She clamped her eyes tightly shut, terrified, but no hands were laid open her. Muffled thumps and noise seemed to reverberate around the room from the floor. There was a thump on the mattress behind her back and she whispered in surprise, scooting over so that her forehead was pressed against the grainy texture of the printed wallpaper.

Something collided with the frame of the bed. The dull thump had a sickly, wet sound. Still, Alice lay with her eyes closed, praying that she would come out of this unscathed. To look upon the carnage with her own eyes seemed like a sure-fire way of inviting the same level of violence upon herself.

Eventually, the blanket was draped across her once again. Her uncle’s voice no longer spoke in the dark. Alice curled up in the soft wool seeking warmth and safety. She knew she could not sleep now. If she could stop herself from shivering, whether from fear or the cold, she would consider that enough as she lay and waited for the dawn.