I found the torch under the sink, where she always leaves it. Returning to the cellar door, I heard Oak tell Dad not to move.
I passed him the torch, which he shone into the dark below.
The light found Dad quickly, picking out his prone body covered with boxes and cans, an old table lamp and an unloved food processor. Nearby, a bag of old clothes had split open and countless books, magazines and papers had spilt across the floor.
Oak began to descend again, slowly.
“Why can't I ask about Fiona?” I whispered to Mum, once I was sure he wouldn't hear.
