Mrs Jones suddenly meowed and struggled free from Skinner. She jumped on to the handrail and then on to the steps. She was so skinny she looked more like a squirrel than a cat. Blue watched her slink down the stairs.

‘But toxoplasmosis isn’t what caused the sickness in grown-ups?’ he said, carrying on down after the cat.

‘No. It’s a different parasite,’ said Skinner. ‘And once it got in people it altered their brains. So our mums and dads, they protected us, they protected the disease by not talking. They had the parasite growing inside them all the time.’

‘They didn’t know it, though,’ said Blue.

‘No. The parasite was making sure it wasn’t found out, or it would have been wiped out before it had a chance to multiply. You see, we were the only signs that something was wrong. Otherwise the parasite was undetectable; it’s very good at hiding. It meant our parents didn’t behave rationally. We are a secret that has only now been told.’

They reached the bottom of the stairs and caught up with Achilleus, who had stopped to play with the cat. He was squatting down, scratching her behind her ear as she arched her back and rubbed against his knee. Finally he picked her up and held her under his chin. Blue winced, remembering what Skinner had just told him. It was weird seeing Achilleus like this. Blue didn’t have him down as a cat person.

Blue smiled. Must have the toxo in him.

They walked over to where Jackson and Paddy were waiting for them.

‘What’s going on?’ Jackson asked. ‘What have you found out?’

‘We’ve found out that we ain’t going nowhere tonight,’ said Achilleus. ‘This place is, like, under siege.’

‘And I found out that you need to keep away from cats,’ said Blue.

Chapter 71

71

Maxie was dreaming of pear drops. She always bought pear drops when they went to visit her nan in Wales. There was an old-fashioned sweet shop on the high street. It was always really busy, especially in the summer when all the holidaymakers were there. In the shop they had these shelves with every kind of sweet you could think of. Cough drops, sherbet bonbons, pineapple cubes, aniseed twists, Parma violets … and pear drops. The hard crystals of sugar on them dug into the top of your mouth, but if you sucked them long enough they became all smooth and slippery. Nothing else tasted like pear drops. Not even pears. She’d buy a little white paper bag, with a selection of sweets, carefully weighed. The smell of the pear drops was the strongest, always reminded her of Nan. Of being in Wales with the family.