When I next open my eyes I’m lying on my back staring up at the sky. The stars wink at me, brighter than I’ve seen them before. There are thousands of them, millions, coating the land like a great big blanket. The moon greets me shyly in a crescent wave.

I sit up. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust, for me to get my bearings. I’m in some sort of courtyard.

It’s hot, hotter than I’ve ever known it. Like opening the oven door just after you’ve baked something delicious. I almost expect my glasses to fog. The smells are wild and sweet.

Wood. Rose, maybe? And orange.

I look up to see an enormous house staring back at me.

Where am I?

Silver branches scale the house walls, covering almost every inch of it. They bleed into the windows and out of the doors.

They sway, like blades of grass in the breeze, and tap at the glass of the windows, as if asking to be let in. Except there is no wind. The night is as dry as lavender sprigs. Looking closer I can see the branches are as thick as a snake, with leaves like gnarled fingers protruding from them.

They reach out for me, and that’s when I see they’re not swaying at all, but wriggling like little worms.

I swear I can hear them whisper my name. ‘Safiya,’ they hiss. ‘Safiya, welcome.’

I shudder, step back, and look around me.

This is the biggest house I’ve ever seen, about the size of the block of flats Mum lives in.

There’s a set of swings to the right of me, a couple of cars parked in front of it, and a great big iron gate to my left leading out on to the road.

How did I get here?

I try to think back to the last thing I was doing. But it’s as if the memory is just out of reach. My brain feels foggy, like I’ve just woken up. Moving around is strange too, like when I step I’m floating, instead of walking. I wave my hand in front of my face and I can see it blur a little.

That’s when I remember what I was doing, and the realization comes crashing down like hailstones. I was sitting by Mum’s hospital bed. But then how did I get here? And where am I? I need to leave this place. I’m trespassing after all, I think, looking at the big iron gate.

Once, when Elle and I were little, we snuck into her neighbour’s garden. It wasn’t exactly our fault.

We were playing Frisbee and it flew into the vegetable patch next door. It started off with us jumping over the fence to go and get it, but then Elle turned to me.