‘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?’
‘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.’