“They’re crazy. Don’t listen to a word they say. It’s all lies and misshapen truths. Promise me that, okay? That you won’t believe anything they tell you?”

“I promise Mum.”

We’re standing at the train station with one bag each in our arms and this is the third time our Mum has made us promise something like this. We nod and tell her what she wants to hear, but sneak glances at each other when she wasn’t looking. The truth is we all know Mum is the one we shouldn’t be listening to. She was always the outlier, the one who was scrunching her face in any of the meetings. She would mumble while we got ready for bed and we’d pretend not to hear. The ideas she would mention were outlandish, foolish. But what could we do? She’s our Mum.

So we went with her. When she dragged us out of bed in the middle of the night, we couldn’t stay. We’ll come back when we can, when it’s safe.