The Knife Drawer

At the top of a narrow driveway there is a shambling Victorian house full of dust and stairs. The walls inside are ancient emulsion, sloughing off the distemper walls in gorgeous ribbons. The mice that infest the dining room chimney-breast are living out their own dreams and nightmares, learning voodoo and the meaning of love and forgiveness. In "The Knife Drawer", dead bodies miraculously vanish as if scraped to nothing by pudding spoons. Marie's mother has rather lost her wits since she did away with her husband. She could swear they're out to get her; even the house gets messy on purpose, all by itself. A careless wish, made against a rainy morning seems to have conjured the grandmother into being; she is part guardian, part bad fairy. She is also sometimes an owl. Marie's twin is living in a hole in the back-garden, small and round as a cherry pip, waiting to be discovered. Marie is a gentle soul and tries to do her best for her strange ragtag household, but all the love in the world can't hold back an avalanche.