‘Fine.’ I turn to show the old man my photo, but a passer-by bumps me and the photo sails through the air and lands in the slushy gutter. I snatch it up, but it’s ruined.

I kneel on the footpath, the soggy photo falling apart in my hands, and I realise – with a terrible, sinking finality – that I will not be finding my mother. I will not be bringing her home. This is an impossible task.

I press the remains of the photo to my chest as a great, aching void opens inside me. I won’t ever hear Mum’s voice again or feel her hand around mine.

She’s gone.

And I won’t make it back to Dad unless I can find a way to charge up. I’m so low on energy that I just want to lie down, right here on the freezing footpath, and close my eyes.

Someone nudges me. ‘Show me where else I can hide the card.’ It’s the kid. ‘You owe me after interrupting.’

‘Okay. If you take me to an old tree,’ I say.

The kid considers this for a moment. They are wearing a too-big, grey woollen coat that’s missing a few buttons and is tied around the waist with a red ribbon. ‘All right.’ The kid offers me a hand and lifts me to my feet; they’re surprisingly strong. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Tulsi. Yours?’

‘Haz.’ Haz has a pointy nose and red cheeks, and dirty, thin fingers poking from fingerless gloves. I wish I had gloves, even ones with the fingers cut off.

‘Is that a boy’s or girl’s name?’ I ask.

‘Neither. I’m not particularly a boy or a girl. Just Haz.’

‘Okay.’

I lean heavily on Haz as we make our way down a side street. I’m so exhausted that black dots are dancing in front of my eyes.

‘Are we in England?’ I ask.

They laugh. ‘Yes. We’re in Waterloo. London.’

London. Imagine that. ‘How many people live in London?’

‘I don’t know. Millions and millions.’

How foolish I was to think I could find my mother in this place.

Haz and I reach a high wire fence. On the other side is what looks like a park that’s been turned into a building site.

Haz looks around to check if we’re being watched, then peels back the wire from one section of fence. I climb through. Haz follows, then fixes the wire back in place and disappears into the dark building site, as swift and fluid as a cat.

In the street light, I see a couple of portable office buildings and a big excavator. And one magnificent tree, its spreading, leafless limbs dusted with snow.