My mind begins to wander. It tortures me with watery images. A dripping tap. The mellifluous trickle of a brook. Above a choppy sea a gannet folds in its wings and dives into the waves. My hand dips into a rock pool for an orange sea shell. When I take it out, it’s cold from the water, then I realize that it’s not cold, but hot, burning hot, and stow it once more inside my shirt. I hear the cry of a greater black-backed gull and look up, hoping to find shade under its majestic wingspan, but there’s nothing up there, nothing except that sun, white, merciless and lethal. Dear God, if I come out of this alive, I will be a good mother.

My sweet Emmy, Jack – I promise I will never leave you again.

‘Alice,’ Benjamín says urgently. ‘Alice.’ His voice is barely a voice at all. ‘Are you okay?’

I look at him like he’s bonkers. Of course I’m okay. I’m actually doing pretty well. Considering.

‘You’ve stopped.’

I shake my head. My body is on fire.

Suddenly, he’s very close to me, his worried eyes looking into mine. I reach out towards his face. His skin is blistered. How drawn he looks, how ill. Oh, God, how much blood has he lost?

‘We must rest,’ he says.

I blink at him. Yes, of course we must rest, then I discover that I am resting already, leaning against a rock and Benjamín has come back for me. Rest. I pretend to consider the idea. Should we or shouldn’t we? After all, it’s important to put up a good show. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because there’s a small stubborn part of me that wants Benjamín to tell Duval I was brave. That I tried. Big comfort that will be to Jack and Emmy.

‘Rest, Alice. Okay?’ Benjamín urges quietly. I nod my head at him. The sun is low on the horizon, but the heat is still overpowering. The four walls of the desert close in on us like a clay oven. My throat feels like someone has reached in and ripped a Band-aid off it. Every breath drawn is like swallowing dust, then the dust grows to sand, after that to the size of pebbles. I experiment with shallower and shallower breathing until I find a small space to suck the oxygen through where it hurts the least. There’s a funny sour taste in my mouth when I do this. I think I identify it as hope dying.