We go into the kitchen and I shut the door so as not to wake Dad. Neither of us says anything: we haven’t discussed what ‘the plan’ might be yet. I’m more nervous than I expected, and we both start speaking in low voices at once.

‘If this is …’ I begin.

‘You will not like …’ says Susan.

We both stop. Neither of us wants to say it, and there’s a moment of silence. Susan breaks it.

‘Mola sometimes applies her own, ah, interpretations to the teachings of the Buddha. And she thinks that Seb is caught in a loop, kind of a mental trap, caused by, erm …’ Susan bites her lip and dries up.

‘Caused by me,’ I offer.

‘Well, only sort of. Partly. Caused by, I don’t know, messing with things you do not understand would cover it. And the Dreaminator. I mean … crystals? Crystals have always had “mysterious qualities”. I looked it up.’

Of course she did.

‘Crystals have been used in mystical healing and ancient religions for, well, forever, really. And pyramids too. Did you know, if you place a razor blade under a pyramid, it will not go blunt?’

‘Really?’ I say.

‘Well … probably. It is difficult to prove.’

I think I have a better explanation. ‘You know when you stop playing a video game, and the characters are still moving but not doing anything?’

Susan gives an embarrassed half-shrug. Of course, she’s not much of a gamer.

‘Doesn’t matter. They become reactivated when you pick up the control again.’

Susan nods. ‘So … you will have to reactivate your dream.’

I puff out my cheeks in frustration. ‘Go back there and what? Get him? How is that going to work?’

Susan says, ‘Perhaps it is like Mola said. “Sometimes the greatest journeys …”’

We finish the sentence together: ‘“… have no map.”’

‘Except,’ I say, ‘I don’t have a Dreaminator. I had one thought, though: perhaps if we looked on eBay or something, or Gumtree, or, or …’

Susan is shaking her head. ‘I have already looked. Everywhere. I do not know if he ever even sold any. Maybe after that TV show he just gave up.’

I nod miserably.

‘But we know where one is, don’t we, Malky?’ she says.

We stay quiet for a moment, contemplating this.

It’s like we’re dancing round the subject, and it is Susan who takes the lead next by saying, ‘The Dreaminator. It is at Becker’s funeral parlour on Front Street.’

I feel cold just thinking about it. ‘But where exactly? In … in his coffin?’