Sheesh. “Right – once upon a time, there was this boy who got a job looking after the airships …” A sigh escapes from Babet. “First he was told to clean them. Up close, they were pretty big, so he had to climb up and down long ladders, these ladders as tall as our house, and he had a special hose that he could turn on and off …”

My gaze is on the peeling wall, though I’m seeing the huge sheds where the airships must be kept. I keep an eye out on my travels but maybe the sheds are in the barren outer land beyond the city gates. One day I’ll walk till I reach the very edge of Ursa and find the airship depots.

“The boy was so good at his job that he got promoted to become an assistant to the engineers who looked after the engines of the mighty airships. Every day he would stand next to one or other of the engineers and hand them any tools they wanted, and that’s how he learned everything about how the engines worked and how to fix them and how to keep them working smoothly.”

The shadows flicker on the walls as a draught moves the candle flame.

“One day, one of the airship pilots was sick … actually, he’d broken his hand, and he couldn’t fly the airships any more, so they were one pilot short. Then one of the engineers said, ‘Why not let this smart boy train to be a pilot?’ And that’s what he did, he became a pilot and flew the mighty airships …”

It’s all so clear in my head – even the inside of the pilot’s cockpit. Though I’ve never been near an airship before, I can see myself sitting in the cockpit and switching on the instruments to make it fly. Brilliant! How brilliant that would be, to be in control of an airship and to float above the city like a bird.

I’m so entranced by all of this I haven’t noticed the steady breathing of my little sister, nor my other sister coming in. Marina rests a hand gently on my shoulder and, with a nod, indicates that she will take over. I get up without a word and go into the kitchen.

All is quiet now. Only a faint sad song coming from somewhere at the front of the building. Standing in the dim kitchen, I debate whether or not to prowl the city. Except I’m tired after my day in the Director’s garden and I make for my cubbyhole, wanting to sleep and dream of airships.

* * *

Most nights, now, I’m too tired to roam the city. As soon as I crawl into my cubbyhole and my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep. Long, dreamless sleeping. Then – all too soon – I’m woken while it’s still dark by Nanna shaking my foot.