An officer named Duncan brought them their breakfast, and Amber recognised Fast Danny’s bacon. Fragments of her dream came back to her, like eating part of her own face, but it didn’t put her off her food. All this fresh air was giving her an appetite.

They sat in silence for most of the morning – apart from asking the other to turn round while each of them used the toilet – and Amber started wishing that Kelly and Ronnie had stuck around. Even if she’d had to revert in their presence, it would have been worth it.

“I wish you were better at conversating with,” she said, taking the bandages from her hands.

Milo cracked one eye open from where he lay. “I’m sorry?”

“Talking,” said Amber. “I wish you were better at talking.”

He waited a few moments before responding. “Where’s this coming from?”

“We’ve been sitting here for three hours and you haven’t said one thing.”

“We’ve driven for days without speaking.”

“That’s different,” she said. She flexed her fingers. “That’s in the car. You could just listen to the engine and that’d be enough. You can look out the window and … I don’t know. Think, or whatever. In here it’s different. Silence means something in here.”

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. Like we have nothing to say to each other.”

He sat up. “I see,” he said.

“Yeah, well …”

“There something in particular you want to talk about? Idle conversation is hard to come by when you’re in a situation like ours.”

“It doesn’t have to be idle. It can be … I don’t know. It can still be something. We can talk about something meaningful, can’t we? I’ve been having bad dreams.” She didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped out. “About my parents. And Imelda. Nightmares.”

“Hardly surprising,” Milo said.

“I’d just like to talk to someone about them.”

He frowned. “And you think I should be that person?”

“You are literally the only friend I have.”

“You’ve got online friends.”

“They don’t know about any of this stuff, are you nuts?”

“Okay. You want to talk,” said Milo, “we’ll talk.”

She sighed. “Never mind.”

“Tell me about the nightmares.”

“I just did.”

He looked puzzled, and actually scratched his head. “I’m sorry, Amber, I’m really not getting what it is you want here.”

“Never mind, okay? It’s fine.”

He stood up, walked to the bars, and looked at her. “Then do you want to talk about last night? About Glen?”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you know why he’s still coming after you? Did he say anything?”

“Nothing,” Amber said. “Not a word.”

“Do you think he wants to hurt you?”

“No. I mean, maybe, because of what he is … but no, I don’t think so.”