I found a secret door

The door appeared three days after Mum died. I found it while looking for the tin of tea she kept hidden from Dad, although Dad had been dead for eleven years. The pantry was too small for another door. I measured the wall twice, then stood there holding the tape.

It was painted the same cream as the shelves, with a green knob and a scratch near the bottom. I remembered that scratch. When I was seven, Mum had caught me drawing on the wall and made me scrub it away. I had forgotten the door, but apparently the wall had not.
My sister Claire came over that afternoon. She said Mum had never mentioned a door, which was the sort of thing Mum would have done if she wanted us arguing after she was gone.

We stood in front of it for a long time. Claire wanted to open it. I wanted to know where it went, but I was beginning to suspect that knowing would make some things harder to remember.

In the end, I left the door closed. The next morning it was gone, and the tea tin was sitting on the floor where it had been.