At the top of the stairs, I found Fiona whispering with the cats.
“What are you three doing, skulking up here?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
The cats circled each other, and Fiona, weaving through her legs, brushing her calves.
“It's okay,” she whispered, softly stroking their heads. “You can trust Mary.”
“Something...” “...in there,” shooting glances towards the back bedroom, “...bad lady...” “...not to see.”
“Bad lady?” I asked.
“They mean Rose,” Fiona replied.
“That's Robert's old bedroom,” I said.
Fiona smiled with a hint of sadness. “And the room where I was born.”
