I made my sobbing louder and more violent. There was silence and then I heard Mum and Dad whispering. They’d obviously moved away from the bed and were discussing possibilities. That was good. I hoped they’d discuss them at length. A minute and a half. He’d still be in the grounds.

‘Did she tell you what you are, Aiden? Is that why you’re so upset?’

This time I howled. I figured howling or hysteria would be kind of gender neutral. We all look pretty much the same when we’re emotionally out of control.

‘Listen to me, Aiden.’ Mum’s voice, almost shouting. ‘I need to explain some things to you.’

But I howled louder. My throat was hurting, but that didn’t matter. Two minutes, maybe slightly under. I imagined Aiden in the back seat of the car, hugging Z to him, the gates sliding open as the car approached. A few metres, a few seconds from freedom.

Dad came round the other side of the bed. Now I had them on both sides, so I buried my face beneath the blanket. I could feel his hands on my shoulders and I squirmed. But he didn’t loosen his grip.

‘Aiden!’ he shouted. ‘Whatever your sister told you, it’s not true, all right? It’s not true. Everything’s fine. It’s all going to be okay.’

That almost took my breath away. Right there, right at the end, they were going to lie to him. Pretend everything was going to be wonderful. I think that was the moment when the last part of my childhood slipped away forever. However this turned out, I would never forgive my parents. It was possible I would understand them, maybe even sympathise with them from time to time. But I would never truly forgive them. The realisation tasted bitter.

Mum suddenly pulled back the bedclothes and Dad increased his grip on me, tried to sit me up, get me out of bed. I think they’d decided I was hysterical and were trying to force me to pay attention. Maybe they were just going to shut me down there and then. But if they were thinking hysteria, I’d show them. I’d show them proper hysteria.