Alice

I throw my laptop to the end of the bed and lift myself out of it, so I’m standing in the middle of the floor.

My legs buckle and my head swirls until there’s a monster screaming in my ear, and I know – I know – it’s the Illness. And I’ve used the word ‘bedbound’ in meetings with hundreds of doctors over the last five years, but I’ve never felt so bound to this bed – like invisible ties are digging into my wrists and keeping me prisoner.

I lean against the wall and breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And then the door opens and they all tumble in.

Cecelia is smiling and I can see all the jokes about my date get lost on the way in as she sees me. Dad comes striding from behind her to grab me.

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ he says, guiding me back to bed.

‘Rowan. Something – something’s happened.’

Mum joins Dad and together they lay me back on the bed.

‘What on earth –?’

I take a deep breath. ‘Rowan’s little brother. Something’s happened. The bell tower.’

Cecelia swears and runs to the window from where you could just perhaps see a boy stuck at the very top of a tower in the distance. ‘I can’t see anything, but there are a load of people around … You think he’s climbed it?’

I nod. ‘He’s up there. No one can get him down.’

Mum shakes her head. ‘How’d he even get up there? They locked the door years ago.’

But it isn’t locked any more, is it? I watched with Rowan as Charlie broke open the door, pulling off the handle. If they left it propped open, it would be easy for a little boy to slip in. And if the door slammed behind him, how would anyone be able to get it open again without a handle?

‘There’re some loose bricks up the side. They’d make pretty good handholds if you wanted to climb,’ Cecelia says.

‘How old is this kid?’ Dad asks. ‘I can’t see him climbing –’

This is all wasting time and I dig my palms into the mattress and try to lift myself up again, but I’m too out of breath. And I feel like punching my pillow because, in any other body, I’d be running out of the door, stomping into shoes and climbing that tower with my bare hands.

Cecelia is watching me. She bends down, her strong fingers gripping my knee.

‘I can do it,’ she whispers as Mum and Dad talk.

I shake my head. ‘No. No, it’s too dangerous –’

‘Not for me. Al – I climb every day. I don’t need a door to get up there. I can just zip up, real quick, check he’s all right and then wait with him until –’

‘NO,’ I say.