Almost on cue and from absolutely nowhere, a pinprick of white blips into existence, throbs, and brightens and then, in a blink, it flashes forward through my eyes, bursting open like a bottle rocket into busy noises and colors. The colors form into people-shaped blurs, passing by hurriedly, and the noise becomes their voices, chattering all around me. I’m home again, and the whole of Blackstone Manor is bristling with activity. All day long, servants have been cooking and cleaning and rushing here and there, and I’ve been trying my best to stay out of everyone’s way. It’s late in the afternoon on the day before my sixth birthday, but that’s not the reason why everybody is bustling about. Oh no. This occasion is far more important. You see, my father is scheduled to arrive tonight. I’m standing on the first-floor landing, trying to be invisible, holding a silver-framed photograph of a man and a woman. Jonah once told me that the man in the picture is my father and the woman is my mother.
