When Jane tried to think about what happened on the roof, the pictures were all fuzzy in her head. She remembered stars and Prin and flying. She didn’t remember what came after that. And if she thought too much, other pictures came up. Ones she couldn’t stand, and couldn’t get away from.

Not when she was lying in a hospital bed.

In the hospital bed, she could hardly move. She could only lie there and think her thoughts. Terrible memories going round in her head.

She had to find a way to stop them. That’s when she remembered what Prin had taught her. You only have to believe it and it’s real.

That was where the real game began.

Lying in that hospital bed for weeks by herself, Jane had a lot of time to practise. There were a thousand details she could create.

The more she practised, the more real it became, and by the time she was well enough to leave and go home – to a brand-new home all over again – what happened really seemed like nothing but a dream.

And her Make-Believe life felt completely real.

Almost twenty years later, Sarah unfolds the little table in her bedsit flat. The flat isn’t big enough for a proper table, one that would be out all the time. She has to make use of the space as best she can.

She’s bought flowers from Tesco, garishly bright. She unwraps them and arranges them in a vase. In the kitchen is the on-offer bottle of wine she bought from the Sainsbury’s Local near the station, plus all the ingredients for a recipe she will follow.

It is late April and there’s a mini-heatwave in London. Sarah clambers up on the draining board to open the little flap window in the kitchen, to get some air in. The kitchen is dirty; she hasn’t cleaned for quite a while, but Sarah simply ignores the dirt. This window opens out to a scrubby patch of grass at the back, away from the noisiness of Brixton Hill and the main road. The air that comes in creates a breeze, and on the current of air a clumsy wasp slips in too, confused by the unseasonable heat. It lands on the table, its wings iridescent in the afternoon light.

Sarah puts the radio on, the same station she has listened to for years. Capital FM. It’s old-fashioned to have a radio, but she uses her phone so little really. It’s easier without it. That way there’s nothing to disturb her scene. Life has been so tiring for her lately: all those friends she’s made at the office where she temps. Sometimes she loses track of what she’s told them. So often, she can’t remember who knows what. She likes them all, is glad for the company, but other people always, always make it less real. Sometimes, she just gets exhausted. Needs a little time for herself. This time, she feels it more than ever. So much so that she’s ended up deleting all the numbers from her phone and all the contacts from her email account.