A tear slides down my face. Stig pulls me to him and I fall against his chest. As soon as the wool touches my cheek, feelings and memories flood my mind. His jumper is riddled with regret. Stig blames himself for the death of his father. He had phoned him at two in the morning, claiming to be stranded after a party, but he didn’t really need a lift. His mum had been stopping them seeing each other, and Stig just wanted to talk. When his father didn’t show up, Stig walked home in the rain, hating him. The next morning, the police knocked on the door. His dad’s car had been found wrapped around a lamp post.

Stig pretends to be this happy-go-lucky person, but inside there is so much anger and sadness and self-loathing. He uses humour to mask his pain. Why hadn’t I seen that before? He strokes my hair tenderly, and I wish I could take away the hurt. I force my thoughts away from the emotions in his jumper and breathe in his smell: shampoo mixed with wood smoke and the faintest odour of sweat. His body is so warm and solid I don’t want to leave his side.

He says in a soft whisper, ‘Tell me everything. I’m big enough and ugly enough to take it. That’s what you English say, isn’t it?’

‘You’re hardly ugly.’ Just looking at him makes my pulse quicken. Kelly used to go through magazines and rip out photos of boys, then put them together to create her ultimate man. I would laugh and call it her ultimate Frankenstein. I never really liked the clean-cut American guys she went for – and I still don’t know if I’m into heavy metal and black clothes; I just like Stig. Maybe if he fancied cheerleaders and prom queens I would feel differently about him, but he’s into girls with piercings and weird clothes and tattoos, girls who are different.

I lay my head against his chest, wanting to share myself with him even though it scares me. ‘I fell from the tree outside a few months ago. That’s how my eye happened.’

Stig presses his hand to my head but doesn’t say anything. I keep talking, afraid I will never say it if I don’t get the words out now. ‘It started in the hospital. I can tell things about people by touching their clothes, like their memories and emotions are trapped in the material.’

I swallow and add, ‘I thought Mormor would be able to explain it. That’s why I came.’

Suddenly I get a different emotion from Stig’s jumper. Fear and disbelief. I knew it was too good to be true!

He tries to make his voice sound calm. ‘So you think the journals are right?’