And so we sit on a bench, looking at the little sailing-club dinghies skittering in the grey sea, and first I get her to promise that she won’t tell anyone at school. The way she looks at me when she promises is reassuring. Her small dark eyes widen behind her glasses and she nods earnestly, hooking her hair behind both ears as if she’s preparing for something important. I’m building up to telling her about the Dreaminators, I think because – for the first time – I realise that I’m not under suspicion.

I can tell her, surely? She won’t snitch … surely? First I’ll tell her about Seb and me sharing our dreams. Only then, depending on her reaction, will I tell her about the Dreaminators, and the one I saw hanging in Mr McKinley’s bedroom.

Good plan, Malky.

Then I start. Susan goes quiet. For perhaps the only time since I’ve known her, she doesn’t offer an opinion or interrupt me, or sound clever or superior. She just lets me speak. When I tell her about Seb being in my dreams, she leans forward and tilts her head like it’s the most fascinating thing she has ever heard, and she doesn’t scoff and accuse me of making it all up.

She giggles occasionally and it reminds me of the teacups tinkling on Andi’s tray. She likes the Santa Ana ship story. I exaggerate it a bit, and she laughs some more, putting her hand over her mouth. When I get to the bit with the Christmas puddings, her hand goes down, she grins widely and laughs out loud and I realise I have never seen her teeth before: she always smiles with her mouth closed.

(Her teeth are small and white and even and no doubt very, very clean. In case you were wondering.)

Then, after a few seconds, she stops laughing. She shifts round and puts both of her hands on my forearm – a sort of gesture of concern, I guess. I’ve seen adults do it. ‘But, Malky,’ she says, suddenly looking serious, ‘I don’t think this is altogether safe.’

Altogether safe? Who speaks like that? I immediately start to regret my decision to share this stuff with Susan.

‘Safe?’ I repeat, suddenly feeling annoyed and yanking my arm from her grip. ‘Why wouldn’t it be safe? I mean … we’re not doing it for real.’

This has put me off my stride, I can say that. I was building up to the Dreaminators, and suddenly she’s gone all superior. She clasps her hands in her lap. She closes her eyes for a moment, then says, quietly, ‘It’s a dream, Malky. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.’

‘Eh? Of course it does!’