The house was much larger than I remembered. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get the keys to the property. The estate agent took one look at me and knew I was a cut above his normal clients. He smiled and told me to take as long as I needed.

I parked outside the house and stood looking at the dilapidated property for some time picturing what it once looked like. A slight breeze had blown my hair across my face; triggering a memory of my first day at school where I had allowed the hair to cover my face to avoid showing my emotions. The key turned easily in the lock a sudden smell of mustiness suggested the house had been on the market for sometime; the hall way was exactly as I had remembered.

I consciously side stepped the cupboard under the stairs deciding to leave it till last. I wandered through each room although I had not lived in this house for nearly thirty years the subsequent owners had made few alterations. I smiled to myself as I entered the kitchen; the heart of the house at least there were some happy memories sitting around the table with Mother.
I wandered upstairs and was surprised to find the fourth stair from the top still creaked. My bedroom had been a moderate size; looking out of the window I saw the old swing and the garden shed we used as a play den. Turning I scanned the room for the loose floor board. We had left the house so quickly I had never had time to collect my treasures. I knelt down close to the secret hiding place; the board came away after some prodding and levering with a pen. I put my hand into the cavity below my hand grabbed a large metal object.

I looked down on the object I had retrieved – an old biscuit tin covered in dust. My tears splashed down pit marking the surface of the lid. I eased it open and discovered all my childhood treasures, not one of them had been disturbed.

Clasping the tin to my chest I now stood facing the cupboard under the stairs. My hand was shaking and my heart was beating as I slowly opened its odd shaped door. I almost wrenched as I stared into the cupboard. Once again I became a child of five. How could anyone have been so cruel? What had I done that was so bad? Endless hours of being locked in the dark.

I left the house hoping some of the answers may be contained in the box. The box also contained my mother’s diaries.