The three tread quietly in the dusty house. The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they headed to the second floor.

"No one has been in here for twenty years," one man told the others. "After the tragedy, the Snow family sold the house to me, because they trusted me. A good thing, too. Anyone else would have changed things, but I haven't touched anything. I'd like to show you the little girl's room. It's really quite charming."

They approached a heavy oak door with a small violet sign hanging on the knob. It read "Ruthie's Room." The man opened the door and the third member of the party, a six year old girl, ran in. She squealed with delight upon seeing the bedroom.

"Mummy, what a lovely room!" the girl cried, spinning about in the center.

She was right; the room was lovely. Painted lavender, it was filled with stuffed animals and books on shelves. Christmas lights long burnt out were still plugged in and hung over a bed. The bed was covered with a fluffy purple duvet and matching pillows. Resting against the pillows was a china doll holding a dog-eared copy of The Secret Garden.

"Please stand still, Jessica," the woman told her twirling daughter, who pouted and went to look at photos on the wall. Each was a portrait of a young girl with brown hair and green eyes.

"Look, Mummy! She looks like me!" Jessica said, pointing at the photos.

"Both of your look a bit like Ruth, Miss Morgan," the man said. Miss Morgan was staring intently at something on a shelf by the bed and did not respond. "Miss Morgan? Ella?"

"What? Oh, thank you, Jake. I suppose you're right." She walked, as if in a trance, over to the shelf and gently lifted one item up.

It was a musical jewelry box, battered and old, that Jessica had seen and dismissed as boring. Ella held it up in the dim light, admiring the messily painted flowers on the side of the box. She opened it and a ballerina slowly spun in a circle. "Canon in D" tinkled out tinnily from the box. Jessica and Jake were both looking at Ella with confused expressions. Ella sat down heavily on the bed, sending dust flying.

"Pack-a-bell," she whispered, lifting up necklaces held within the box. She set out a few on the duvet: a painted wooden duck hanging on a chain, a silver cross, colourful beads strung on fishing wire. With a gasp, Ella held up a necklace made of thick black cord. Dangling at the bottom was an iridescent glass orb.

The memories came then. She was sitting on her bed, wearing the glass orb. Mummy told her she couldn't wear it. She begged and pleaded, but Mummy said no. With a pout, she put it back in the jewelry box.

After church, Mrs. Anna Morrigane came up to her. "Ruthie, dear? Your mummy had to leave early. She wants me to take care of you right now. Be a good girl and follow me."

And she followed. She got in the car, moved to the new city, played the games. She played pretend that her name wasn't Ruthie Snow but Ella Morgan, daughter of Sienna Morgan and resident of Edinburgh, not Cambridge. After a while, she believed it, too, and forgot her old home and family, but that was to be expected. Five year olds were easy to trick.

"Mummy?" Jessica asked, going over to her mother. "Mummy, why do you have such a funny look on your face?"

"Miss Morgan? Miss Morgan?" Jake moved to shake her by the shoulders, but she didn't hear any of them. Ella, once called Ruthie, could think of nothing but one question that echoed repeatedly in her mind: Who does this make me, then?

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