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and took out a tissue to wipe his face. Johnny hadn’t noticed he’d been crying.
    â€œNo. There’s no record of anything here,” said Dr. Carrington. “Johnny must be imagining it. Either that or it was a reflex. A reflex … yes.” He looked at the machines and then to Miss Harutunian, as though for confirmation.
    â€œYeah—it’s classic wish fulfillment,” the American replied.“Of course nothing happened.”
    â€œBut she did …” said Johnny, annoyed at feeling invisible again. But then he caught sight of Stevens and stopped. He realized he didn’t want to say any more.
    â€œWhat’s that
thing
doing in here?” Stevens was looking at Bentley. He moved toward the dog while taking out some sort of weapon from a holster inside his jacket. It was probably a taser gun—Johnny hadn’t seen anything like it before. Bentley growled again.
    Johnny got up. “Leave him alone,” he said.
    Stevens looked at Johnny, who felt a chill pass through him for a moment. The man’s eyes were ice cold.
    â€œNo dogs in the facility,” said Stevens. “If you don’t get it out of here in ten seconds it’ll never leave.” He pointed the weapon at Bentley.
    â€œNo!” said Johnny, stepping between the man and the dog.
    â€œNine, eight, seven …” Stevens counted down.
    Bentley was facing Stevens as though about to pounce. Johnny had never seen him like this before.
    â€œHow dare you talk to Johnny like that,” said Miss Harutunian, also stepping between Stevens and the sheepdog. The man kept the gun where it was, now pointing directly at the social worker. Dr. Carrington looked frantically from one to the other.
    â€œFour … three …”
    Johnny took Bentley’s lead and yanked it with all his strength, dragging the dog along the floor toward the door.
    â€œTwo … one …”
    They were out of the door. Looking back he saw Stevens turn to Dr. Carrington. “Get them out of here now,” he said.
    â€œYes, of course, yes,” Dr. Carrington mumbled.
    â€œDon’t think you’ve heard the last of this,” Miss Harutunian shouted at Stevens, as Dr. Carrington shepherded her towardthe door. Johnny was fighting to stop Bentley from going back inside. He could see Stevens pointing the weapon at his mother and cautiously approaching the bed.
    â€œLeave her alone,” Johnny shouted, as Dr. Carrington closed the door behind them.
    â€œWhat’s going on? Who was that man?” Miss Harutunian demanded.
    Dr. Carrington shook his head. “You’ve got to leave … now,” he said, spreading his long arms and herding Johnny and Miss Harutunian down the corridor at speed. Bentley followed very reluctantly, looking back over his shoulder and whimpering every so often. In no time at all they were back at the main reception. Dr. Carrington’s hands were shaking but he managed to enter a code number into a box on the wall and opened the clear glass exit door. “I don’t think you should come and see your mother again, Jonathan.”
    â€œNot see his mother?” The social worker looked apoplectic. “Johnny has every right …”
    â€œPlease, Miss Harutunian,” pleaded Dr. Carrington. “I’ll sign you out. Trust me.” He took the social worker’s hand and shook it goodbye. “Go.”
    Miss Harutunian seemed to calm down. “Come on, Johnny. Let’s go then,” she said. The American led Johnny and Bentley through the oak doors and out into a swirling wind. The incinerator tower was silhouetted against a dark sky, far angrier than when they’d set out that morning. Heads down, neither spoke as they crossed the hospital grounds and reached the little stone bridge that marked the path back to Wittonbury station. As they crossed it began to pour with rain and soon Johnny was