‘Okay, I’m gonna be chucking this in now, so you kids are probably gonna want to take a step back – first few rows might get wet.’

Everyone shuffles back except the boy Rowan let in front of him, who keeps his hands and face pressed against the glass.

I look for the kid’s mam and

she’s got her head down.

Playing some game on her phone.

If Alice wasn’t here watching,

I’d probably say something

I shouldn’t.

The man tips his tub into the water and the tank comes to life. The water boils as silver-foil shapes swish and teeth tear. And the little boy at the front screams as water splashes out of the tank and drenches him, plastering his hair to his head.

He turns, face twisted in a way that looks like he might cry. I brace myself for the noise to cut me.

I run forward and

duck down next to the kid,

pointing at the tank.

‘Look!

That ray has a squid in its mouth.’

The boy and I watch wide-eyed as the ray circles, tentacles rolling from its hidden jaws.

‘He’s going to eat it!’ the boy shouts a bit pointlessly, as we can already see that for ourselves. The ray does a victory lap of the tank, then flips, white side up, and starts sucking the rest into its mouth like spaghetti.

‘Cool!’ the boy says, but I think I feel slightly sick.

We stand back as more people arrive and we slip round a corner into a deserted corridor.

‘So you’re a seahorse?’ I say.

We watch one in the tank opposite us, its tail wrapped tightly round a piece of weed.

‘Seahorse?

I’m way cooler than a seahorse.’

‘Seahorses are cool. It’s the males that give birth, you know …’

She’s talking about that kid and

about Jonah, too.

‘I look after Jonah,

but, you know, he’s not

all I am.’

I feel like

utter shit

for even saying that.

My heart soars like a flying fish.

‘So tell me. Who are you?’

‘I dunno.’

Seems like a big question for

such a quiet space.

‘I’m nothing like a seahorse, though.

I’d want to be something awesome,

like your walking fish or whatever.’

We walk slowly by tanks with crabs and lobsters in them, like counters at a supermarket.

And then I see it. Rowan. In fish form.

‘Stop! That’s it.’

We bend to peer in

at this bug-eyed purple shrimp

half buried in a

fake seabed.

‘You think I’m a prawn?’

Great.

Way to make an impression there.

‘Read the sign.’