Footprints in the Sand. Eleanor Jones

be set free.”

      I felt as if I had been set free. And now I had to prove myself.

      I wanted to ask about the rabbit. I wanted to ask if Bryn had a yellow dog yet. I wanted to ask if he was happy, but I said nothing.

      At Braymore, I’d been quiet. I’d kept to myself, speaking only when spoken to and getting on with my work, independent and self-assured. Suddenly, I was six years old again. What had they labeled me then? Disturbed and antisocial? I felt all of that now, and more.

      “Come on,” Bryn repeated, holding out his hand. It was just like that first day at Appletree, when he asked if I wanted to have ice cream with him. I didn’t take his hand then, and I couldn’t take it now, so I followed him, just like before.

      “You can sit beside me if you like.” He smiled, remembering.

      From the outside, the shed looked as if it was about to fall down. The door swung on crooked hinges, and it creaked when Bryn opened it. I held back, suddenly unsure, but he urged me forward.