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‘Jeremy, then. He seems to be very mature for his age.’ ‘Jeremy grew up quite early,’ Madeline told me. ‘Tragedy has a way of doing that.’ ‘His sister?’ She nodded. ‘Jennifer was five. Jeremy doted on her,’ she said. ‘I remember when we brought her home from the hospital. He was about seven. He would hold her in his arms and rock her for endless hours. Her death devastated him. ‘Their relationship was quite unique, really. Jeremy reveled in his role as older brother. Boys of nine and ten usually want to play with their friends, ride bikes and so forth. But, Jeremy forswore all that to be with his sister. Looking back, it seems like she was put here to teach him how to love. He made a good job of it. ‘When Jennifer fell ill, she was about four. Leukemia. When they were doing all the tests, all those blood tests, the shots and IVs, it was Jeremy’s name she would call. She would scream for him not to let them hurt her.’ Tears welled up in Madeline’s eyes. ‘I can still hear her crying.

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