Mum told me about God back when we were living in the little attic room in London, just me and her. It was a weird little room because I couldn't go outside even for school. Mum wasn't supposed to have a kid and if the people downstairs found out she did we would get chucked out. So I had to be quiet all the time. And she would sneak me out sometimes, but it was always a risk because if someone came home while we were out I'd have to wait in the garden for half an hour until she could sneak me back in.

She was in a mood a lot back then. Most days. When she got in a mood she would pace about and touch things with the tips of her fingers. The walls. The furniture. Like she was daring it all to step out of line. Like she would fight it if she got the chance.

There was a leaflet. Some woman on the street had given her a leaflet. And that was what had started her off that day. That was what had ruined her mood. She kept waving it at me, and then throwing it down on the bed and then picking it up and waving it again. It's the biggest lie, she said. The worst. The absolute worst. Such a bloody stupid lie.

I didn't say anything. Because I had to be quiet and because I was in bed and had just woken up and I didn't understand. I didn't know what had got her so worked up.