INHER MOUTH, HER NOSE AND HER EYES. MUD IN her hair and caked on her neck and her arms. Mud filling her shoes and seeping through her clothes. She lay sprawled on her side, a garbled, barely distinct sound coming from her: ‘Jaymartinjaymartin’. One eye opened, then the other. She coughed, spat, tried to clear her throat. Mud was stuck to her tongue, her gums and the top of her mouth. Still she said the words ‘Jaymartinjaymartin’. She tried to sit up, but her left shoulder and arm ached and needle-sharp pain stabbed her fingers, her palms and the backs of her hands. Sand and stones tormented her broken skin. She fell back. She pushed herself up on her other elbow. ‘Jaymartinjaymartinjaymartin.’ Her world was mud and pain. • • • • • ‘What’s your name?’ A boy was sitting on a kitchen table floating in a muddy pool. At his feet was a child’s doll, the head lolling to one side. Hair as pale as straw hung off the scalp, its eyes loose and drooping. ‘Jaymartinjaymartin.’ He stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face.
