“Alicia,” Finn took hold of her chin and turned her face towards him. His eyes were feverish and glittering. “No. You don’t.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Finn was silent for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then, without looking at her, he began to speak.

“Once,” he said, “there was a family who lived in a lovely brick house in a lovely brick suburb in a lovely brick city, far away from the sea.”

“Was it your family?”

“This is just a story. Anyway. They lived a long way from anything wild or dangerous, which made it a good place to raise a family, but sometimes it started to feel boring. So every year, the four of them would get in their shiny metal car and drive and drive for hours down thick black tarmac roads until they reached the Great Outdoors.

“The Great Outdoors was wonderful and terrible. There were animals, and mountains, and black lakes, and grey oceans, and everything was bigger and stronger than they were, but they never realised that. They’d lived for so long in their brick house in the brick street in the brick city, they’d forgotten anything could hurt them.” He squeezed the deep cut on his hand. A trickle of blood ran down his wrist. He wiped it absently on his jeans and continued.

“The parents thought it was all marvellous, and the little boy, he loved it too, because he was just little and he knew the least of all. But the big sister always said they should be careful, because the Great Outdoors was dangerous. One day it might turn on them, because just because you love something, it doesn’t have to love you back. But of course they didn’t listen to her.”

Alicia’s legs and feet were trembling with cold.

“Take those wet jeans off,” Finn ordered.

“But… ”

“Don’t be daft, there’s only me here to see and I don’t count. Wet clothes freeze you faster than anything.”

Crouched over beneath the low roof, Alicia kicked her trainers off and peeled off her jeans. Finn took his coat off and wrapped it around her waist.

“What happened to the family?” she asked, through chattering teeth.

“Maybe I should tell a different story.”

“No, tell me this one.”

“So,” said Finn, staring steadily into the darkness, “what happened was, one day they were in the Great Outdoors. They’d chosen a particularly wild part that time, because they were getting bolder all the time. They were camping. In a tent. With a campfire. And then, just as they were toasting marshmallows, a dragon came out from behind a rock and snatched up the parents and ate them.”

“That’s so stupid! You can’t say a dragon.”

“Can’t I? All right, a lion then.”

“Are you telling me your parents were eaten by a lion?”

“I’m not telling you anything about my parents. I’m telling you a story.”

“But it’s about you and Ava, isn’t it?”