‘Every word he spoke was true,’ Josie said. ‘If you take me back to Earth, I will be restored to my body. Exactly as I was when you last saw me.’

‘Fine, then,’ said Elliot, taking off again. ‘So let’s go . . .’

‘Elly – when you last saw me, I wasn’t living. I was alive, yes. But I wasn’t living.’

Elliot stopped again.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘You were . . .’

‘Trapped,’ said Josie. ‘Ever since I became ill, my body has been a prison that barred my soul within. It has been torture.’

‘I know it’s been tough,’ said Elliot. ‘But now I know what was wrong with you, we can get help – I’ll go to the doctor, we’ll get some medicine, we’ll get you better . . .’

Elliot felt his mother so close he could touch her. If only he could turn around, just look into her eyes . . .

‘No doctor could help me then and no doctor could help me now,’ Josie insisted. ‘My mind was broken beyond repair. And my body was always going to follow it. That was how my story was written. Nothing could change it.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Elliot growled. ‘And we’ll never know unless we go back . . .’

‘Ah – that’s just it,’ Josie declared. ‘That’s exactly what we’ll be doing. We’ll be going back. Back to a time when I cannot be any sort of mother to you. And you were doing what no son should have to. I don’t want that. For either of us.’

‘But I don’t care!’ Elliot cried, carrying on towards the fading light up ahead. ‘I’ll always look after you, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter to me . . .’

‘But it matters to me.’

Elliot stopped again. How was he going to persuade his mum? They were running out of time – already the sun was dropping in the sky. It would be sunset soon. He had to get her out of there.

‘Time to Earth,’ Ariadne’s twine sang out, ‘thirty-nine minutes.’

‘Come on, Mum,’ Elliot urged. ‘We’re so nearly there.’

‘When I grew ill, my body didn’t just trap me,’ said Josie, coming right up behind her son. ‘It trapped you too.’

‘I told you – I don’t mind . . .’

‘And I told you – I do,’ Josie replied. ‘I hope you never know the pain of robbing your own child of their childhood, knowing the suffering you are causing them. It was a living death. And I hated every second.’

‘We’ll find a way,’ Elliot said, ignoring the iron fist of fear that was closing around his heart. ‘I’ll get some help.’

‘I don’t want help, Elly,’ said Josie. ‘I want freedom.’

Freedom. The word burst through Elliot’s conscience like a bullet. Everyone had the right to freedom. Especially his mum.