She was skilled at making up her own stories as well. Rion thought she should write her own: of robots from the future, or the search for a spy in a locked house. She came up with so many amazing ideas, all of them far more fun than anything to be found in a book.

‘All right, Rion. It’s time to go home,’ their mother cut in, and they each nodded a reluctant ‘Okaay.’

They got up to leave the hospital ward, with its faint odour of disinfectant, and Rion took his parents’ hands. ‘See you later, Rion,’ Mio-chan said, with a small wave.

‘We’ll come again tomorrow, Mio.’

As they were walking home along the tree-lined road, the autumn leaves a burnished gold, Rion’s mother suddenly turned to him and said, ‘Rion, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for Mio-chan to read that story.’

‘Why not?’

His mother’s hand, grasping his own so tightly, was trembling.

‘The Wolf and the Seven Young Goats,’ she replied, sounding irritated, ‘was the play that Mio was supposed to be in at kindergarten. I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten.’

‘Come now,’ Rion’s father said. ‘That’s a long time ago, and I don’t think Mio remembers. She likes that book, and they both seem to enjoy it.’

‘Oh, be quiet!’ Rion’s mother shouted. She sank down on to the ground. ‘Why?’ A tiny whisper escaped her lips. ‘Why Mio? Why did it have to be her?’

Rion stared in shock at his hand, which his mother had shaken off. His father was rubbing her back. He helped her to her feet.

Rion stared at his parents, confused. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

He thought they were angry at him. But his mother didn’t reply, just silently bit her lip. ‘It’s OK,’ his father said instead, and ruffled his hair with his fingers.

‘RION?’ HIS SISTER SAID TO him, another day when he was visiting the hospital. ‘You stay well, OK, and be with Mum and Dad always.’

‘Uh – OK.’

Rion really didn’t know what she was getting at, but nodded anyway. Mio smiled.

A new decoration had arrived in her ward that day. A miniature Christmas tree had been placed by the window, and Rion realized what season it was.

On her bed lay a large toy which she had been playing with: an exquisite doll’s house, each perfectly formed room brightly lit with tiny bulbs. It was foreign-made and an English instruction book lay open beside it.

‘If I’m not here any more,’ Mio said, ‘I’ll hope for one single wish for you, Rion. I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with so much. You missed that trip, and then Mum couldn’t go to your dance recital either, could she?’

Rion couldn’t understand why she was bringing these things up, and he stared at her blankly.

Mio-chan was stuck in a bed, and so not being able to go on a trip, or Mum not attending whatever – it was only to be expected. What was she talking about?