Dad made a movement to take my arm, but then thought better of it. I climbed the steps to the laboratory ahead of my parents, concentrating fiercely to make sure I didn’t stumble. I almost burst into tears when I got inside. It was all set up as if it really was a clinic. There were signs pointing to presumably non-existent haematology labs and x-ray departments and ear, nose and throat clinics. Aiden had come through these doors so many times and he’d believed the lies my mother had spun. He’d gone willingly for what he thought were medical procedures, trusting his mother. Who wouldn’t trust his own mother? He thought he was a patient. In fact, he was a lab rat.

I stopped for a moment, hypnotised by the illusion, but Mum swept past me.

‘This way,’ she said, walking briskly down a corridor to our left. I followed, Dad bringing up the rear. We eventually arrived at a door at the end of the corridor. There were a couple of chairs up against the wall and a keypad set into the door.

‘Aiden’s in here,’ said Mum, her hands reaching towards the pad.

‘Wait,’ I said.

I tried to control my breathing, because I was on the verge of hyperventilating. And now I felt dizzy. I sat in one of the chairs and tried to make my arms less tense. I realised I’d been holding Z too hard and he was looking at me in confusion. I scuffed him behind the ears and he relaxed a little.

‘You stay out here,’ I said to my parents. ‘Me and Z go in alone.’

‘Okay,’ said Mum, ‘but when —’

‘When I come out again,’ I continued, ‘I will be upset.’ Not for the first time, it struck me that some words in the English language are pathetic and weak and useless. I took another deep breath, but it didn’t seem to help. ‘I will be upset,’ I repeated. ‘No one is to say anything to me. I don’t even want to see you. And I will not stay here while you … while you …’ I bit my bottom lip and the quick pain helped me regain control. ‘I’ll go straight home. Program the car. Then … program it to pick you up afterwards. Or not, I don’t give a damn. I will be in my bedroom, but you are not to come anywhere near me until I decide. Is that understood?’

‘Ashleigh …’ said Dad.

‘Yes. Understood,’ said Mum.

I stood, but had to put a hand against the wall when my knees threatened to buckle.

‘Open the door,’ I said.

Aiden lay in a hospital bed. He was reading a book and there were three or four pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up. Hearing the door open, he turned his head and did a double-take when he saw me.

‘Ashleigh! What are you doing here?’