Dad looks at Mum and they share something and I’m not sure what it is. But it makes Mum sigh heavily and let go of my arm, as Dad reaches down and picks me up in his arms, like he’s rescuing me from a burning building and I can feel the flames at my ankles.

‘I can’t watch,’ she says, and she turns away with her hand to her face, and it’s like watching someone crash into something entirely real and unmovable while not moving at all.

She crumbles. And I can’t do anything, because Dad has started to move – one step in front of the other – away from her. But I see her face in the wing mirror and her eyes are on me, anyway.

We circle the green gates of the school and I peer through the bars as they flicker past. And, like an old film, I see people crowded round Cecelia and her smile bursting like a flare.

‘She’ll be popular after this,’ Dad says, between deep, rusty breaths.

My heart leaps a little, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m pleased for her, or if I’m worried that she might not have time for me any more.

Dad starts wheezing and his footsteps become heavier.

‘Do you need a rest?’ I ask.

‘Not – yet.’

We round the school, and the people and the tower disappear in a haze behind us, and now we’re faced with a busy road, with cars hurtling past like bullets. But there’s a path winding round dehydrated trees and brown plants and tunnelling into an underpass.

We walk down the hill and Dad’s steps become hurried and more desperate.

And then we’re in the tunnel and it’s so dark that I can hardly see with my sunglasses on. And I’m not sure if we’re going forward or back, or if we’re just caught together in a frozen black sea.

Dad falters. ‘Just – one –’

His arms shake and buckle as he lowers me down on to a bench in the middle of the tunnel. The backrest has been broken off, so I lie with my legs curled instead, and take off my glasses.

‘Are you okay?’ I keep my hand on his arm and feel my muscles taking spoons.

He’s red-faced and breathing heavily, but he smiles, kneeling on the ground next to me. ‘I really need to get back to tae kwon do – I’m never going to get my black belt in this shape, eh?’

He pinches his belly and I try to make my arm pat his shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to want to move.

I take a deep breath. Just a little more. Just a little longer. Just a bit.

And then Dad bends, and behind him I see it – rising from an impossible place and stretching its limbs over the concrete towards me. The kraken.