He raises his eyebrows as if he was expecting a different answer. Keeping an eye on a dark corner of the room, he says, ‘I’m OK; at least I think I am. Everything feels a bit unreal, like I’m not actually here.’ I look at him blankly and he rubs his head. ‘I was in the lighthouse and the shadows pulled me down and then I was somewhere else. I knew I wasn’t dreaming, but at the same time I knew it couldn’t be real. Sorry, you have no idea what I’m talking about, of course you don’t.’

My mouth twists at the irony. ‘Go on, tell me.’

‘There was a man in a glass tower,’ he says.

A beat of anxiety pulses in me. ‘What did he look like?’

‘He had a long grey beard and wore a robe. He had your mum with him.’ He lowers his voice, his eyes brimming with pity. ‘In a cage.’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t know whether to tell you, but it felt so real and … I’m so sorry, Ivy.’

This can’t be happening.

‘Are you OK?’ asks Tom.

I poke around inside my head for a normal-person response. Heartbroken? Angry? Powerless? A heavy numbness sits in my chest where my heart should be. I push the heels of my hands into my eyes and try to breathe slowly. ‘Was she OK? Did he hurt her?’

Tom’s expression darkens, telling me everything I don’t want to know. ‘She was crying and looked in a bad way, but I didn’t see him actually touch her. He kept muttering something; it wasn’t any language I’ve heard before. It was like he was doing a spell.’

My blood pounds in my ears, drowning out the roar of the waves outside.

‘Did she say anything to you? Did you talk to her?’

‘No. It was strange. It felt so real, but I knew I wasn’t actually there. I was here in bed with these things inside me.’ He coughs and holds his throat. ‘They were so vile, Ivy, so full of hate. I could feel them drawing on my worst thoughts and feelings, twisting my emotions. They wanted to make me like them.’ He coughs again, his eyes watering. ‘I can still feel them.’

‘No. They’ve gone. They’re not inside you any more.’

‘The bird-woman, I thought she was going to kill me.’ He snatches a quick breath and speaks between coughs. ‘It was real, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just a nightmare?’

‘Try not to think about it. It’s over now.’

He stares at something behind me, his eyes widening as if his nightmare is not over but very much alive and crawling towards him along the skirting board.