It makes me think of Peter Pan and how they all get to Neverland. ‘Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.’

Except, instead of going to Neverland, I’m going to see Mum.

‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Edward asks.

I shake my head. Adults can’t go to Neverland.

I walk through and it’s like everything is happening in slow motion.

Doctors and nurses walk past me, barely glancing in my direction. I turn back and see Dad’s face as the doors close behind me. He gives me a small smile, which makes me feel a little bit stronger.

I rolled my eyes. ‘I knew you would say this,’ I countered. ‘Because you just don’t get it, do you?’

Mum crossed her arms. ‘Grow up, Safiya,’ she said. ‘You aren’t some mystery to me, you know. I know what it’s like to be your age. When I was younger I –’

I didn’t let her finish her sentence. Instead it was my turn to laugh. ‘Were you ever my age?’ I said. ‘Sometimes I just imagine you were always old with your boring job and your boring life.’

That stopped Mum in her tracks. Then she started again, and suddenly she was a moving train, picking up momentum.

‘You have no idea what I’ve had to do to get this job. I left home when I wasn’t much older than you, studied hard . . .’

What else did she say? I can’t remember, because I wasn’t listening.

The walk along the hospital corridor takes a million years. I have to remind myself how to move my feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

I pause at the halfway point. I can see Mum’s room now at the end. Sometimes, when I play an especially scary game, I save it just before something really bad happens, and do something else for a while, until I have the courage to face it. If this were a game I would click save and take Lady for a walk instead. But I can’t, so I just lean against the hospital wall. It’s cracked, the paint chipped and worn. It feels as if the whole building might tumble down, down, down and take me with it.

Mum sank down on to the sofa, her head in her hands. I thought for a moment that she was crying.

‘I’ve got a splitting headache . . .’ she said, rubbing her temples.

I thought it was an excuse, a way to stop us fighting.

So instead of backing down, I kept pushing; maybe this time I could win. And I picked the button I knew would hurt most.

‘Dad gets it,’ I said, relishing the way my words made Mum flinch. ‘He was going to take me to a gaming convention this summer. But then you took us to that stupid play, and I missed out on tickets.’