As I run down the hideous yellow corridor, tears stream down my face. My lungs are so tight now I can barely breathe. When I get to the lift I stab my fist at the button.

‘Come on,’ I cry as I watch the neon numbers slowly rise from one through to three. Finally, after what seems like hours, it strikes four and when the doors open I half fall inside. When the lift doors open on the ground floor I stagger out. Past the reception desk where ‘I’m here to help’ Kelly sits glued to her smartphone, through the automatic doors and out into the deserted car park.

Crouching on the tarmac by some bins, I look at the vast industrial wilderness around me and I know that this can’t be it. I can’t live in this limbo, this confusion.

I need to go back. Back to the river.

35