I go back into the bedroom and push against the window, which only opens a crack. I had been planning on sitting there, on the ledge, drinking in the sky. I just want to breathe the outside in, so I crouch beneath the sill, being careful not to let my knees touch the ground, and stick my nose into the air stream. A sweet little breeze tickles my nostrils. I turn onto my front and place my body in a plank, hands beneath my shoulders, back straight, and bend my elbows, out to the sides, up and down. I push up and down forty-eight times until my arms are shaking and my heart is pounding, then I collapse onto the ground on my back and stare at the ceiling. My legs fly in the air and start doing the bicycle. I’m riding fast, feeling the wind whipping my face, the sun warming my cheeks, and now I’m pedalling all on my own without stabilisers.

I can hear Dad clapping behind me. ‘Wheeeeee, what a star. Look at you go, Sammy.’ I pump my legs even faster. ‘Slow down, Samantha, you’re going to fall …’ and then Mother’s voice, ‘Let her. It’s the only way she’ll learn. A few tumbles will knock sense into her.’

I pedal faster, and topple and crash to the side, landing with my arm folded beneath me. There’s a crunching noise and the sound of my own voice, high and disembodied, in my ears.

‘That’ll teach her,’ Mother says.

Dad is breathless and his face is pale as he picks me off the ground and bundles me into the car. We speed to the hospital. Nothing broken, the doctor tells Dad. He looks so relieved, I’m scared he’s going to cry. Mother tells him he’s a wuss; all that blabbing over nothing. ‘Man up,’ she says. ‘It’s what kids do … they fall over …’

I rub my arm and pedal the air faster. Dad’s face is swimming in the air, looking down on me. ‘Your mother’s overwrought, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. Don’t take it personally.’

I can’t remember when Dad stopped hugging me. There came a point where she wouldn’t allow it any more. ‘It’s unnatural,’ she said.

23. Nico

23

Nico

My eyes are open and staring, full of salt and grit, and there are blurry shapes and muffled sounds moving around me. I’m lying on my back, pinned. I don’t know if it’s a person, the Sandman, a dream, broken bones, but I can’t sit up. Count backwards, breathe. I rub my cheek against the rough bark and press my body into the branch, hugging its undersides. It will pass.

Magda’s voice pierces through the swirl. ‘Nico?’ This is the first time she has called me by my name. ‘Can you move?’