We sat towards the back of the coach and he tried to hold my hand but I wasn’t having any of that. It’s not like we were six years old.

Mr Meredith walked up and down the coach, yet another clipboard in his hand, checking off names one last time. Or so I supposed. He gave us a smile as he passed.

‘Excited?’ he said.

I was going to try to be cool, but then thought it wouldn’t make any difference.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Very.’

‘Good. You should be.’

And then he was gone, ticking boxes on his clipboard.

Finally, we set off. We even had a proper driver, a man with a peaked cap who smiled at all of us before taking his seat at the front and starting the engine.

We drove away from the school and down Albert Street, towards the park. As we swept by it, I thought I saw a small girl sitting under a Moreton Bay fig in the furthest corner. But it was a long way away and it might have been my imagination.

The journey took just over an hour and a half and we spent all of the time glued to the windows watching the landscape as it scrolled past. Aiden swapped seats with me so I could get the best view and I made sure I thanked him. It was probably the longest journey we’d taken since we moved to Sydney three years ago and I’d forgotten most of that.

There was hardly any traffic on the road and a good few of the suburbs we passed seemed as if they’d seen better days. Some buildings were abandoned and crumbling, but whether that was due to neglect or the result of an occasional tornado was impossible to say.

It didn’t take too long before we left all buildings behind and started to see more of the countryside. Like parts of Sydney, some places appeared to be green and flourishing, while others were a bit sad. But it was all so strange that none of it mattered. The driver put music on and it wasn’t long before everyone was singing and clapping. It was obvious that my classmates were as excited as me.

Eventually, we took a side road and bumped over an uneven, potholed track for a couple of kilometres. All the kids groaned as we hit a bump and we made a game of who could groan the loudest, so that by the time we stopped the coach was ringing with the sound of kids moaning and laughing. It was so much fun. But then, as we realised we’d reached our destination, we stopped, and the silence was deafening. We all peered out the window.

The coach had stopped in a fenced clearing in front of a large wooden building with a wraparound verandah. There was one door, close to where we’d stopped, flanked by a few barred windows. I was on the side of the coach furthest from the building and when I looked to my right I saw a man in uniform close the chain link gates and lock them. I hadn’t even realised we’d come through any gates.