‘Oh, Safiya,’ Mum said, sounding annoyed now. She was still massaging her head. ‘Why did you come then if you hated it so much? Elle seemed to enjoy herself . . .’

I shrugged. ‘Because I had to.’

I could tell that upset Mum, but she swallowed down the hurt and carried on.

‘Look, I know you get along better with your father.’ I could taste the bitterness in her voice. ‘You don’t half remind me of it every day. But maybe you could just push yourself a little and –’

‘Just stop it, Mum!’ I interrupted. ‘I’m not going to the theatre group,’ I said with finality. ‘I don’t want to.’

Was it my fault? Did this happen because I upset her?

I want to ask the doctors these questions, but I’m too afraid of the answers.

I’m now right in front of the door to Mum’s hospital room. It’s open, just a crack. And then I see her face. My heart jolts and I turn away. I sit on an abandoned chair outside, head in my hands, blocking out the rest of the argument.

I shut my eyes, take my glasses off, and press the palms of my hands hard against my eyelids, until white spots form against the black. I try to erase the picture of Mum in her hospital bed, to go back to a point before all this happened. I imagine that I’m staring at the solar system, and I try to believe – really believe – that I’m somewhere far away.

A while later I’m still sitting there, eyes trained on the floor now, avoiding the door. A nurse walks out, letting out a startled ‘Oh!’ It’s almost comical, the way she jumps back. All I see are her white shoes acting out her surprise.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, wiping the tears that now fall freely down my face. ‘My m-mum is in there and I c-c-c–’ I break into sobs, barely able to breathe.

The nurse kneels in front of me, but I don’t look her in the eye. Instead I stare at her name badge, which says ‘Amanda’ on it.

‘Deep breaths,’ Amanda says. ‘Come on, darling, you can do this. Breathe with me.’

She inhales, holding her hand to her chest, and I copy her. She exhales and I follow.

After a few moments I’m breathing normally again. Someone else comes to bring me a cup of water. It tastes metallic and I only sip enough to wet my lips.

I put my glasses back on, stand up and turn back to the door, making sure to keep focused on the wheels of Mum’s bed, and not her face.

‘Are you sure?’ Amanda asks.

I nod.