Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Intoroduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EITHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- CLIMATE EMERGENCY
- Copyright
That night, while I’m lying on the sofa, covered in blankets, while Dana is asleep upstairs, I dream of Dad’s tree again. The ants have gone, and so has the little plastic sheath, and the whole tree is green. Not just the leaves, but the bark as well. Grandad told me years ago how to check if something is still alive in the middle of winter; you scratch a little bark off with your thumb, and if there’s green underneath, it’s good and healthy. I don’t remember much else when I wake up except this luminous, totally green tree.
I hear footsteps on the stairs and assume it’s Mum. Then I hear the catch on the front door.
I run into the hall to find Dana putting on her shoes in the open doorway.
‘What are you doing? The police said to—’
‘I know. But I plugged my phone in. It went flat last night. And Carl’s been calling, and messaging me. He says the police were at his house last night but he got away. He was bragging at first. Then he started getting angry that he couldn’t find me. Then he worked it out. He knows it was me that told them. And then he sent this really late last night.’
She thrusts her phone at me. There’s a picture of a woman sitting on a sofa. Vince is on one side of her, Carl is on the other. Each holds a knife their hand.
‘I have to go, Josh. I can’t leave my mum like that. Whatever she might be, she’s still my mum.’
‘I’m calling the police.’
‘No. Don’t. He said if the police come he’ll do it. He’ll do to her what he was going to do to Ahmed.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
‘Fine, but hurry up.’
I hurtle upstairs and scramble into some clothes. Mum appears at her bedroom door as I’m pulling my coat on.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Dana’s mum. He’s got her. She’s—’
‘Wait, Josh. You’re supposed to stay here. That’s what you were told. If you know where this Carl person is, you should tell the—’
‘We can’t. He’ll kill her.’
‘Stop! You don’t just throw yourself into the mouth of these things. That man is…’
But we’ve already closed the door.
We run until we have to stop running, our legs heavy and lungs burning. Mum’s right, this thing is a mouth. I thought – last night – that I was out of it, but it’s still got us in its jaws, chewing on us. Above the houses, the first smear of dirty pink light is hitting the undersides of the clouds.