With the cap and sunnies hiding his face, Forest trailed after Mackerel. They walked quickly around the square, avoiding most of the journalists, and through the big glass doors that led to the café area. The food and drinks menu was written out on diving slates – usually used to communicate underwater with waterproof markers – and they caught Mackerel’s eye.

‘Do you want a coffee?’ he asked Forest.

‘I . . . I’ve never had one.’

At first he felt alarmed – what a stupid thing to ask! How could he keep forgetting Forest didn’t have a lifetime of normal experiences? But if he always handled him with kid gloves, surely that would only make the boy feel worse . . .

No. He couldn’t feel guilty for asking questions. This was exactly the sort of thing Mackerel should be helping Forest to discover.

Yeah. Treat him like a normal kid. Don’t think about the shells. You’re not crazy.

‘You’re gonna love it.’ Mackerel ordered them both a flat white, but asked for a caramel shot in Forest’s – he’d discovered at dinner last night that Forest had a serious sweet tooth.

The barista, a man named Chase, whom Mackerel had gone to high school with, glanced over at Forest. He leaned in close. ‘That’s Forest, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ said Mackerel.

‘Nice disguise. Had those journos in here earlier. The news is finally beginning to break – they removed the embargo.’ Chase put his hand to his chest and tutted. ‘Poor little sweetheart.’ He watched Forest with a morbid fascination.

‘Thanks,’ said Mackerel.

Chase patted him on the shoulder. ‘No problem, babe. Actually, once you’ve had your coffee, I might come with.’

Chase made their coffees, then disappeared into the kitchen to get changed.

‘I hate that everyone gets to know my story, even though I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Forest bitterly. ‘All these people have come here to try to break me.’

Mackerel paused at that. Forest had a point – the embargo would have to be lifted eventually, but then Forest would struggle to walk down the street without people begging to know what had happened.

But . . . well, the boy presented himself so well now. Surely it wasn’t unreasonable for people to assume he could speak about what happened to him? How bad could it really be if he was functioning so well?

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ said Forest.

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. I’m fine.’

He took a sip of his coffee, and that at least made him smile.

‘Oh man. This is good.’