I flip over and slide across the metal, my leggings catching on a nail. I work the material free and keep sliding, until my legs are hanging over the edge of the roof. My fingers grip hard along the gutter and the metal starts to sag as I lower myself down. I know I don’t have long before the whole thing collapses. The stack of bricks has fallen, so I can’t stretch out and stand on them, and I won’t make the cumquat pot. I’ll have to drop clear of all the builder’s stuff that’s being stored under the eaves of the house. I swing my legs back and forth, preparing to launch myself as far as I can. My arms are shaking and they can’t hold me much longer.

I let go.

And fall.

On the way down my right foot snags on a bag of sand and I land at an awkward angle. I spin out of my body. Something’s stuck. Pushing into me. And out. Then pain floods my leg. And I see it, the bone, the white shaft pushing up, out of the side of my knee, saluting the sky. I must scream. I do. Into the darkness in the backyard, I scream.

And then someone’s yelling. ‘Clem!’

Dad is here. Mum too. I can hear them. I can see them. But I can’t speak to them. Everything that comes out of me is pain.

Then I’m being carried.

Slid into the car.

Mum’s hand is on my head.

She’s clutching me.

Chapter 16

I must have slept through a million night-times because when I wake, my mouth is dry and crusty and I’m not sure where I am. I try to reach for a plastic cup, but I knock it flying with my hand.

‘Clem,’ says a voice.

I look up. It’s Dad. His face is grey but smiling.

‘Thirsty?’

I nod.

He fills the cup with water from a jug and then sticks a straw near my mouth. I drink like I’ve just run a marathon.

‘Thanks,’ I say, after draining the cup.

I feel Dad’s hands on mine. I try to sit up, but my leg feels heavy and I can’t make it move.

‘You’ve smashed your right knee, kiddo’ he says. ‘In a couple of places. They had to operate.’

‘Oh. Yeah. I remember the bone sticking out.’

Dad shudders. He’s not a fan of gross things.

‘You fell off the roof, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

He grips my hand tighter. I wait for the anger.

‘Why were you on the roof? You could have …’

‘Dad!’ I say sharply. I feel as if everything is rushing up at me.

‘Clem?’

‘I was angry.’

Dad nods like he expected me to say that. ‘Because of your mum?’