I open the door and wedge the luggage into the entrance. Then, taking Joe’s hand, I switch on the torch and begin to navigate the dark corridors.

‘Where’s Daddy?’ he says, his voice echoing against the empty rooms. ‘You said we see Daddy.’

I don’t answer. Instead I hold the torch ahead of me. It casts twisted black shapes on the walls. The smell seems worse than before. I try not to think about the cages and the skull.

I decide that the room to the left of the corridor will be the best place to settle Joe. It seemed the only one with a modicum of normality about it. I push the door open and stare into darkness.

‘Daddy in here?’

‘It’s a special place,’ I tell him, pointing the torch into the centre of the room. As well as the bookshelves there’s a large sunken sofa, an armchair covered in blankets and a low, round, wooden table. ‘We’re going to have a big adventure here.’

‘Don’t like it. I want to go home. Where’s Daddy?’

‘Shall we have a picnic?’ I say, realizing how ridiculous this sounds. ‘I got you some lovely things from the shop. Why don’t you sit here and I’ll get everything ready.’

I lift him on to the sofa, but instantly he starts to struggle.

I run my hand along the sofa and feel the dampness.

‘Okay,’ I say, taking one of the cushions and placing it on the floor. ‘We’ll have our picnic down here. It will be even more fun.’

‘No,’ he cries, kicking his legs out. ‘Want to go home.’

What the hell am I doing, I think to myself as I try to wrestle my little boy on to the cushion. Just go home. But I know what will happen if I do that. A punishment much worse than anything this house can throw at me. So I take a deep breath and crouch down in front of Joe, speaking slowly and calmly.

‘Listen to me,’ I say, remembering what the counsellor told me about keeping eye contact, not an easy thing to do in semi-darkness. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. Mummy just needs to get ready and then we’re going to have some dinner. Remember Max’s dinner in the story?’

‘Still hot,’ says Joe.

His face softens and my heart aches. I hate myself for putting him through this.

‘That’s right,’ I say, stroking his arm. ‘Max had a big adventure just like we’re going to have but he still had to come back and eat his dinner. And, yes, it was still hot. Well remembered.’

‘We have dinner with Daddy?’

‘Why don’t you sit here on the cosy cushion,’ I say, ‘and Mummy will see what we’ve got to eat.’

I don’t know whether it’s fatigue or hunger or both but he does as he’s told and sits on the threadbare cushion, lifting his knees up to his chin.

‘Good boy,’ I say, stroking his soft hair. ‘Mummy loves you very much, you know that?’