I have no answer. Why can’t I fix it? It’s truly pathetic and don’t I know it, but meanwhile, what to do? I have no idea how far we are from home, I can’t even remember how long since we left the truckstop. ‘You’re always dreaming,’ Robert liked to complain and he was right. Fuck. The children are already tired and the chances of someone coming down the Temerosa road at this hour are about zero.

‘Jack, Emmy,’ I take a deep breath, ‘we’re going to have to walk.’

‘Walk!’ Understandably, the children sound appalled.

‘There’s no other way of getting home.’

‘Why can’t we get a lift?’ Jack says.

‘Do you see any taxis driving by? Do you see a bus stop anywhere?’ Jack looks subdued and I feel bad, but it’s all I can do not to drop to the dirt myself and throw a good tantrum. What the hell are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere, where mobiles don’t work, where there’s no such thing as the AA, or a chirpy switchboard operator from Dial-a-Ride ready to direct a black cab in our direction? I want to be able to get on a tube or catch a bus or call a friend, then wait for them in Starbucks, surrounded by coffee and muffins and newspapers. How hopelessly irresponsible to be out here with two children and not have even the first idea how to change a tyre. I sift through the plastic container in the back of the truck. A road map, one of Emmy’s mittens, some sticky sweet papers. No first-aid kit, no torch, no rope, no nothing. What if we had crashed? What if it had been storming, and how could all this only be occurring to me now?

An owl flashes across the road, the beat of its wings making a swishing noise. Emmy covers her eyes with her hands. ‘Someone’s going to die,’ she moans. ‘Winfred said so – Jack’s going to die.’

‘Why me?’ he retorts. ‘I bet it’ll be you.’

Emmy starts to cry. I pull her close. ‘No one’s going to die. We’re all going to be fine.’ I wrench the car keys from the ignition, retrieve a phlegmy-looking bottle of water from under the front seat and set off, the children trudging beside me in stunned silence.

‘How far is it going to be?’ Emmy asks after thirty seconds.

I look at the road ahead. One curve of this hill looks very much like another and I’m not entirely sure where we are. The sky is black and glitters with stars. The silence is noisy with night whispers and I’m watching out for coyotes, for owls and snakes, for skinwalkers.

‘I’m cold,’ Emmy says.

I take off my fleece and pull it down over her head. The sleeves dangle almost to the ground.

‘How far?’ she repeats.