Once in a blue moon (whatever one of those is), I’m taken out. My body aches if we walk too far, so my favourite thing is to sit and watch. One time it was night and we lay on our backs, staring up at the stars. We saw the Plough and Little Bear constellations and the pink twinkle of Betelgeuse on Orion’s shoulder.

‘It’s a dying star,’ I was told.

‘Is it sick, then?’ I got worried it might fall from the sky and crush us.

‘Just very, very old.’ I could smell the booze. It was chilly, so I snuggled up close, praying we could stay like this forever.

Sometimes I get treats when we’re out. Lollipops or chocolates or second-hand shoes that are in the shape of someone else’s feet. Once, I got given a mouse in a cage, but it died after a few days. I think it wanted to run free, like me.

Today we’re meant to be going out. I don’t know where to, but I’m still here alone so I’ve been gently knocking my head against the wall to pass the time. I don’t know if it’s day or night. I haven’t wound my watch in a while.

I lie on the floor, waiting, stripped naked because my clothes feel like electric shocks on my skin. I twirl my hair, just a small strand winding around my finger, staring at the ceiling. Eventually, it works loose and a clump comes away.

Then the doors are rattling and a familiar shadowy figure looms above me. ‘You’re not ready.’

I curl up, covering my naked body. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ I feel around for my clothes.

‘Sometimes it’s not easy to get away. You know that.’

I nod, apologising, feeling wretched and mean for complaining. ‘Where are we going?’ I can’t wait to breathe the outside air.

‘We can go in the car if you want.’

‘But what if we die?’ I say, remembering last time. I was crying on the back seat, worried we would crash.

‘Then we’ll walk.’

I pull on my clothes – too-small garments even for my skinny bent body. Then I lie on the floor with my feet sticking up the wall. One foot scrapes back and forth against it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Something is always going back and forth in here.

‘It’s a special time.’

I’m suddenly still. ‘Special?’

‘The last day of the millennium.’ I don’t know what that means, but I’m given a boiled sweet. ‘Get something warm on. It’s cold out.’

I pull on my coat, zipping up the hood tight around my face like I’m always made to, and we go through the lengthy process of getting outside. I’m led by the arm. The freezing night air burns my lungs and I screw up my eyes as we walk, stumbling along the lane, across fields. We keep going for ages and I wonder if I should scream out. Last time I did that I got gagged with a scarf.

My feet are freezing and soaking from the long icy grass. My teeth are chattering and my cheeks sting from the bitter breeze. I can’t help laughing loudly, hysterically, as we come to a stop. I feel so free.

‘What do you think?’

‘It’s amazing. Beautiful!’ I want to cry when I see it but can’t because my tears are all used up. I sit down on the blue tarpaulin and wrap myself up in the rug. A storm lamp is lit and a picnic of Scotch eggs, Crunchie bars, vodka and bananas is revealed. We’re in the middle of a field with the dark skeletons of trees looming around us. ‘Thank you, thank you!’ I say, grabbing all the food I can. The cold and the wet don’t matter any more.

‘There’s more to come.’ I smell the cigarette smoke, and then I’m given the vodka bottle. Before I can even bring it to my lips, our faces are lit up by colourful flashes of crazy light sparkling across the dome of the black sky. I squeal in delight. My mind is flooded with so many memories I can hardly breathe… toffee apples and woolly gloves… Goose the dog shivering under my bed… the melting mask of the guy… Daddy lighting the touchpapers and Mummy’s hot chocolate…

‘Is it Bonfire Night?’ I stuff a chocolate bar in my mouth.

‘I told you already. It’s the new millennium.’ Then more vodka. ‘It’s auspicious.’ But I don’t know what that means.

‘It looks like the fireworks are coming out of the sea,’ I say, pointing to the horizon. The reflection in the water makes it doubly good. We lie back on the grass to get a better view.

It goes on forever, like the heavens are raining jewels on me. I suddenly feel so special, the most cherished person in the world. This is all for me! And I hardly realise I’m even doing it as I slowly, oh so slowly, unfurl my legs from the knot of rug and flex my feet. I can smell the alcohol and I know what it does. Even more slowly, I peel the rug from my shoulders, slide myself away a little. The cold air bites at my neck.

‘Want a chocolate bar?’ I say but get nothing back – just that droopy vodka stare. I stuff the chocolate in my pocket instead. ‘More drink?’ I hold out the bottle and it’s snatched from my hand as fireworks crackle along the coast. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ I say, but there’s just a mumble in reply now. The empty bottle drops onto the tarpaulin.

Slowly, I ease myself up so I’m sitting, then into a crouching position. I barely breathe, glancing behind me, the way we came. Our footprints look like black stitches sewn across the iced grass. My mouth is dry, and my knees hurt but I spring up, tripping a little as my shoe strap gets caught in the rug.

I run.

My legs don’t work properly, and my lungs feel as if I’ve swallowed a firework. I have no idea where I’m going. I just keep running, stumbling, my arms flailing, my hair caught in my mouth, my heart firing bullets.

Then I’m flat on my face. A hand is around my ankle.