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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

The blackbird trills on, and above its head a scurry of wings brings two more birds into view. I don’t know what these birds are, but when they move they look like pale blue streaks. One of them arches its flight to land in the branches of a small tree in the corner of the square. When it lands, I see its chest is yellow against the bush’s purple spears of flowers.

I force myself upright, every joint in my body complaining.

I realise that it’s not mud I’ve been lying on, but grass – bushy tufts of dew-wet grass. I rip chunks of it off in my fists and rub them gently against the sides of my face. They come away streaked with brown, yellow and red.

I take my shoes off and beat them on the ground, scour their edges against the grass, trying to get rid of the worst of their clay jackets. This is working. I look for anything else I can use.

The moss on the wall comes away in great, sodden handfuls. Up close, it looks like it’s made from intricate ropes of tiny, furry stars. Before I question what I’m doing, I jam a fistful against the pain in my leg. At first, the cold water that flows from it is like another nail entering my flesh, but that soon subsides and the sharp pain of the cut lessens and is replaced by a warm throb. I do the same to my cheek and almost sigh in pleasure as a spigot of water runs into the corner of my mouth. My tongue, like my cheek, begins to numb and warm. I start to feel clean.

Well, cleaner.

After about a dozen handfuls of the moss, I notice a low wooden door in one corner of the square. It complains against its ancient lock and hinges as I try to force it. I lean against it with all my force and hear something start to splinter. With a dry cough, the lock finally gives way and the door springs open. I almost fall through, finding myself in a narrow, dark hollow under dense bushes growing against the backside of the stone wall. The occasional sound of a passing car tells me the road is to my left, and I part crawl, part walk beneath the thick canopy in that direction, keeping my shoulder against the wall. I have to push through about a metre of weed and nettle before I emerge, bleary eyed and filthy, onto the pavement. Realising where I am, I set off as fast as I can for home. I don’t look at the drivers’ faces in the few cars that pass me, but I can feel their shocked looks fuelling my embarrassment.

When I get through the door, I go straight upstairs, put all my clothes in a bin bag, and run a hot bath.

THIRTEEN

THIRTEEN