Mum slides him a look like poison, but I nod.

I muster all the spoons I have and step. Forward. Forward. And I can almost hear the clink as the spoons drop at my feet. The Illness roars in my ears and I clutch the door frame, looking out at the landing to the impossible number of stairs.

And I want to smash things. I want to punch holes in the walls. I want to rip, tear, squeeze and throw off the weights that are holding my body down and float away into a world where what I want to do and what I can do are the same thing.

But instead I just quiver against the wall and turn back to Dad, who’s looking at me with eyes that feel every last bit of pain I do.

‘I need – help. Please,’ I say.

Mum shakes her head, looking out of the window towards the bell tower. Dad rubs his neck, his hands shaking. And I’ve never seen him like this and it’s breaking my heart, but I need to do this.

I need to.

He steps forward. ‘Of course. Of course we’ll help. We’ll always help. Won’t we, Sophia?’

Mum makes a noise like she’s choking.

My heart sings as Dad puts my arm over his shoulder. ‘Thank you. Thank you,’ I pant.

Mum spins round and I can see her eyes glistening. And I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for upsetting her. For adding to the worry she already carries. But also I perhaps feel more Alive than I ever have done before.

Dad lifts me up and manoeuvres me forward. And, with his help, I walk. Down the stairs.

Dad huffs and winces as he stubs his toe on the skirting board, but he doesn’t let me go. And I concentrate on moving my legs down, down, and it feels a bit like falling and flying all at once.

And there’s the phone table, with the stack of magazines. And there’s the kitchen, with pots piled in the sink. And there are three pairs of shoes by the front door and not one of them is mine.

Mum scurries round me, her lips tight. She takes out a pair of old trainers from the cupboard that are barely worn, and I know are mine, but they don’t seem to fit me any more.

‘Just wear these,’ Dad says, kicking Cecelia’s sandals over.

I slide them on to my feet. And I can feel the leather where it’s been worn from her running round the park. I can feel the miles they have stepped in, and the heights they’ve climbed. And I feel like I’m Living all of that by just being upright in my hallway.

Mum puts on my sunglasses and my earplugs and my coat. And then she opens the front door and I see outside.