I squeezed between Lana and James, but Kate was also squeezed in front of us, so that her head was by mine. She was breathing very fast, almost as though she was gulping the air. She had her eyes pressed tightly shut; I thought she might be praying. Lana grabbed my hand, and I reached out for James on my other side. He grabbed my hand too. His hands felt rough, and dry, and warm. The callouses where the skin was peeling off were scratchy – but in a good way, in a way that you wanted to press into your own hand.

The surface of the boat was cold and wet against my forehead – really hard, again, and too solid. It felt wrong. I took a deep breath, holding the air in my cheeks for a minute before blowing it all out. The hot air bounced back in my face unpleasantly.

‘Are you tucked in on your side?’ James whispered.

‘Yes,’ said Lana.

‘Enough so that if the tentacles come out . . . the tarpaulin cover won’t be pulled off?’

‘Yes,’ said Lana.

Kate’s breathing was slowing.

‘I wish they’d flippin’ hurry up,’ said Lana.

‘Yeah,’ said James. ‘If we’re going to die, I’d rather get that out of the way quickly. All this waiting around is really annoying.’

We all started to laugh, which made it funnier than it was, because we could all feel each other’s shoulders shaking. And then it was funnier because we were all trying to keep quiet.

‘Kate, if you snot in my face, I’ll tip you overboard,’ said Lana. ‘Stop laughing.’

‘We could put her on top of the tarpaulin to weigh it down,’ I suggested.

‘I feel like I might fart.’

‘James!’ I said.

‘OK, quiet in there, please,’ said Soldier John. ‘We’re about to go. Complete silence.’

Both Lana and James squeezed my hand.

‘If you fart, you die,’ muttered Lana.

‘Not if the Jellyfish gets me first!’

We all started to shake with silent laughter again. I definitely heard Kate bubbling with snot.

‘Good luck, kids!’

‘Good luck!’

‘We love you!’

There were a few last shouts from the Jellyfish people and then, with a jolting push, the boat started to move. Beneath us, everything suddenly felt smoother – I think that’s the way to describe it. We were no longer rocking to and fro on those little, irritating waves; instead, it was like we were gliding. There was a harsh swishing sound, like the wind just before a storm.

Then there was a juddering, and we seemed to change direction. A spray of water showered on to the tarpaulin, and also under it, so that little trickles ran down to my forehead and hair. Kate gave a whimper, and we started to slide to one side, the boat tilting.