I hadn’t understood when she’d said it, but I’d understood then. The second I’d seen her, I’d known. I felt like I’d always known.

I’d tried to stop Lina coming in, but I hadn’t known how. I’d tried to stop her seeing, but I couldn’t. And then she was wailing, begging for help, begging me to do something, and I’d tried to help her but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to do.

Acid. Vomit. Hot and sour, and she was bent at all the wrong angles. Lina pulled her up and she was floppy, like she was dead. Lina kept saying her name, or not her name, but Mum. Mummy. Begging.

I thought she was dead. The smell was so strong, so impossible. It made my throat close up. And Lina just kept saying her name, kept begging her to wake up.

‘Caitlin,’ Abraham said sharply. I blinked, not sure where I was. There. Here.

‘Why?’ My voice was small and my throat hurt. ‘Why would you—’

Frannie looked down at the floor, at her wrists. Acid. Blood. Vomit.

‘This isn’t normal. This is fucking horrible. Why are all of you acting like this is okay?’

Nobody said anything. Geoff’s eyes flickered down to his hands, but for once he didn’t say anything.

‘Why aren’t any of you doing anything?’ I looked at Abraham. ‘Why aren’t you? You’re supposed to be helping us.’

He didn’t answer.

I could smell it again, suddenly. Hot and sour. I turned. Everyone was still silent.

‘This is wrong,’ I said, standing up and putting my bag on my shoulder. ‘This is all wrong. You’re not doing anything. You’re not helping at all.’

Everything was wrong.

I heard someone say my name, ignored them. All wrong. I turned back to Frannie. She looked sick. She was sick. ‘Sorry for swearing at you,’ I said.

She nodded, her eyes huge and hollow, and I walked out of the room.

I called an ambulance, in the end. I don’t remember who called Lina’s dad. He came and he was different from what I’d imagined. He didn’t touch Lina once. Didn’t hug her. He stood there talking to the paramedics with his arms crossed, frowning, shaking his head.

Mum came too—she’d been home the whole time, cleaning the floors. She’d come out when she’d heard the screaming. Lina.

Lina wouldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t. I sat with her and the grown-ups talked. Mum, the paramedic, Lina’s dad, another lady in a suit who’d shown up with a briefcase. Her dad looked angry, annoyed. At one point he stopped to take a phone call. What a pain in the arse, I heard him say into the phone.