‘What’s happening?’ I ask as soon as the door shuts behind us.

I try to settle into the giant armchair that sits across from Amanda. The size of it makes me feel like I’m little again.

Last year me and Elle went back to our old primary school, where her mum works. We helped her set up her classroom for World Book Day. All the desks seemed tiny, the rooms too.

‘I think it’s best for the doctor to discuss it with your father . . .’ Amanda says cautiously. ‘Sometimes there are just –’ she sighs – ‘complications . . .’ Her sentence fizzles out. It seems she’s stuck for words, like she’s holding something back.

We talk for a while, but it doesn’t help. My chest feels like it’s weighed down by rocks and I’m sinking down, down, down towards the bottom of the ocean.

A cleaner comes in just then, interrupting our chat. ‘Sorry,’ he says, looking between us, before shutting the door behind him.

‘Are you OK now, Safiya?’ Amanda asks, eyeing up my uniform. ‘Do you think it might be a good idea to go to school? Get your mind off things?’ She looks troubled. ‘Your dad does know you’re here, doesn’t he?’

No.

I nod. ‘Can I see her?’

‘Not right now, love. But we’ll be chatting to your dad soon. Maybe you can come in with him and see her later?’

Another nod.

As I leave, it takes everything I have to concentrate on walking. Left and right, my legs feel tingly and weak. Eventually I make it out of the hospital, but I don’t walk in the direction of school.

Ten minutes later I’m letting myself into Mum’s flat. I dump my stuff down, collapse on to the sofa, and burst into tears.

Chapter 30

I dream that the house is filling up with water. I’m at one end of it and Mum’s at the other. She’s awake, and we try to swim towards each other. But just as we are about to grab each other’s hands, seaweed wraps round my feet, like slimy fingers, and pulls me back.

I try again and again. Each time I get a little bit closer and I grab on to her tighter, but I can never get close enough.

Eventually the seaweed has wrapped itself round my entire body, like a caterpillar’s cocoon, and I can barely see Mum any more, barely see anything.

I call out her name, but no sound comes out. My voice is lost in the bubbles.