I have a dream where me and Mum are still out there. On the run, falling from one car to another. It is night. She is a fierce, angry thing and she fills up every space that we are in. We aren't even in England any more. We have crept away to somewhere warm and safe. Somewhere we can swim. Where nobody recognises us. It is just me and her and she is exactly right. Not manic, but loud when she needs to be, and she would fight anyone, but when she's just herself she's smiling and quiet and she tells me stories, and we go everwhere together. I am safe with her. We are safe together.

When I wake up I'm sad right away. I don't know why. I come awake straight out of the dream and I can't get back to sleep. My little room is a mess and I don't like anything in it. I want to go back to sleep. Back to the Mum in my dream. That exact Mum who isn't sick and scary sometimes and never gets mad at me and won't leave. Won't keep leaving and leaving and leaving.

I lie there for ages staring at the ceiling. Staring at the hands on my wall. It is morning outside already, and soon Maisie and Donald will get up and start making breakfast. I want to tell someone about my dream. I don't think I can tell them, but there's nobody else.