Daniel began to cry. Quiet, almost inaudible sobs, the wet tears flowing unseen

down his chocolate-smeared cheeks. In the cloying blackness of the tiny box room

something soft and thread-like brushed across his eyes. Daniel began to scream...

     The old woman closed her ears to the noise. The boy had to be shown. His

parents, god rest their souls, had been far too lenient with him. Discipline. It was what
was lacking nowadays. Cackling softly she plunged her gnarled fingers into the ornate
chocolate box and drew out her favourite coffee cream. In her day if her mother had

even so much as caught her looking in the direction of the cookie jar...

      Daniel, his knees now thrust against his chest, began to rock gently back and

forth. How long had he been in there, minutes..hours..days; time had no relevence

for him anymore. Why had his Aunt done this to him? She had seemed so nice,

telling him how sorry she was about his parents tragic accident, how she would look

after him, keep him safe...
    
     The old woman, her thin, colourless lips sucking on the last of the coffee cream,

rose from the old, faded chair and began to hobble across the floor.

   "Stealing, I won`t have it," she muttered to herself, her gimlet eyes fixed on the

tiny door in the corner of the room. "I won`t have it, do you hear boy."  

   Was that her voice he heard! Was she coming to let him out, tell him how sorry she
was, that locking him in had been just a silly little joke...Eagerly he slid forward in the

darkness, his hands excitedly probing for the heavy pannelled door..

     The old woman reached the end of the room. Chuckling with excitement she

stooped to pick up a battered old suitcase. At eighty-six this would be her

fifth, and probably last, world cruise....