‘X marks the spot,’ she says, voice high-pitched and breathless. She points upward. ‘This is where they’ll come from.’
‘Alright, love. I’d better take you back.’
Shame, it’s such a lovely day. But I mustn’t let her become agitated.
She grabs my arm.
‘No, you have to take me away. You keep saying you want me to live. Everyone here will die. Leave me here and I will die.’
When she presents her argument like this, I want to believe she’s making progress.
‘I’ll have a word with them, love.’
I meant it, I will. Her medication needs adjusting again.