‘I didn’t light it. It was an accident.’ A tear rolled out of my eye. I didn’t wipe it.

‘And at Ash House. Did you have the same feelings about fire when you were there that day? Had you forgotten how dangerous it had been on the recreation field when that fire got out of control?’

The neck of my T-shirt was now in my mouth between each sentence I spoke. ‘No, cos I didn’t light a fire at Mr Clemm’s. Why would I?’

‘Why did you do it on the recreation field?’

‘That was an accident. It was my phone. It got hot.’

‘But it’s something we all agree on, Alfie – that you started the fire on the recreation field. So to move forward, we need to find out why you did that.’

Round and round in circles. ‘My phone did that. Not me.’

I read the suit woman’s file upside down and saw SELF-HARM RECOGNITION TRAINING in capitals.

The suit woman sighed. All the woodwork here is painted cream, but they’ve used too much paint, and it’s thick and wet-looking. It’s upsetting to look at, and in that room, with everyone staring at me like they were so disappointed, it felt doubly terrible.

‘So, Alfie, do you think that your actions on the rec field that day were a good idea?’

I squeezed the chair again and shook my head.

‘Can you tell us why?’

My eyes settled on the thick, drippy paintwork. ‘I didn’t know what I had was burning hot, and it got out of control.’

‘OK. Yet you did the same again at Ash House?’

‘No! I didn’t! Mr Clemm’s machine probably started that fire. I said that already.’

They murmured to each other. I heard, only for children with persistent conduct disorders. I’d made a hole in my T-shirt with my teeth. Thoughts of Whizzy flew round and round in my head, but I felt empty and hollow. Telling them was the only thing I had left, so I took a deep breath and said, ‘I found a creature that spews electricity. She got in my phone. It’s all in my journal.’

Silence. Sideways looks went between them.

I pictured Whizzy looking at me with her trusting mirror eyes. I pictured her getting confused and agitated and her colour changing from white-gold to blood-red. Tears came, and sniffing and blinking them away didn’t work. Two heavy ones leaked out and rolled down my cheeks.

‘I understand that you moved from the city because your sister was being bullied and got very poorly, Alfie. Do you want to talk about how the worry of that made you feel?’

My stomach clenched – they were going to ignore what I said, as though it was a silly made-up story or a lie! Anger boiled up from my chest.

‘Alfie?’

‘No,’ I said, and kept my eyes down.