‘So,’ Bee says. ‘You know nothing?’

I nod because I’ve got my mouth full of chips.

‘What kind of saviour are you, Patrick.’

She says it in a way a mother would talk to a child.

‘No idea what you on about. How am I supposed to save your sisters?’

‘If I knew, I wouldn’t need your help, would I?’

Fair point.

‘Sorry.’

‘You’ll be sorrier if you don’t remember your role in this.’

She’s pretty and scary in equal measures. I want to help, but I don’t think I can.

‘Think. Patrick, you’re not who you think you are.’