I’m nowhere near as drunk as I was first time round, but still, I have absolutely no clue where I’m running to, or where I originally hid. I’m just sprinting mindlessly, turning corners whenever I feel like it, my footsteps keeping time with my heartbeat, the sweat cold and clammy on my temples.

The counting has stopped now, and I can hear them all bundling raucously into the maze after me. I slow down to a standstill, clutching the throbbing stitch in my stomach, and claw my way into the nearest hedge. I flop down painfully among the prickly branches, and try to picture Alice climbing in beside me.

But what happens if she does? We kiss? And then what?

Do I stay here, in this new reality? For how long? For the rest of my life?

I try to decide whether I would actually – genuinely – want that. Whether it would be better for everyone, Daphne included. But I can’t. The concept is just too massive to properly process. My head throbs with confusion and doubt, and I realise the only thing to do is let fate take control, exactly as I did last time.

I hear Harv’s whooping laugh float around the corner as he bumps into somebody in the darkness. I remember this happening first time round too, and wonder idly if I’ve somehow ended up in the exact same hiding spot as before. Just as they did originally, the two pairs of trainers bounce right past without stopping.

And then, almost immediately, I hear another crackle of feet on twigs. I crane my neck to see someone else rounding the opposite corner and beginning to emerge through the leaves. I squint to try and make them out …

And as I do so, something even stronger than déjà vu slaps me hard across the face. A sense memory so vivid it makes my head spin.

All these years I’ve been telling myself the story of what happened in this maze. And I realise now I’ve been telling it wrong.

It was Alice who got to me first.

I see her now through the gaps in the hedge, creeping past just as she did back then, scouring the branches for any movement. The precise thought I had at the time flashes suddenly into my brain: I could make a sound now. I could let her know where I am.

But I found that I didn’t want to make a sound. I didn’t want her to find me.

Alice squints right through the branches, and for a second I’m certain she’s looking straight at me. But then she draws back, turns and keeps walking.