The following day, Stephen calls Shelley. "I've got a present for you. Come and see." He takes her by the hand and she toddles with him to her bedroom. "Here you are." He points to the wall. Mounted on a card and with a hand-written tag below, Shelley's butterfly sits in its frame, protected by glass, a long pin through its thorax.
"Like it?" he asks. "It's still just as pretty isn't it?"
She nods but looks down, her lip trembling. "I'll tell you what," he says. "I know you're still upset, about well.... Mummy going, and Daddy being poorly and everything. And I know you didn't think we'd be living in a new house, but why don't we make your bedroom all pretty too? We can make it just how you like it and then it's your special place.
A smile breaks through. Looking up, "That sounds nice."
