Kenneth had offered to use his private car, but I asked him to follow the emergency service’s advice and allow the medical team to assess the children before moving them.

Mason was dizzy when he stood.

Owen was breathing faster than I liked.

“Are we dying?” Mason asked as a paramedic checked his pulse.

The question broke Kenneth in a way that no angry confrontation could.

He crouched beside the stretcher, suddenly incapable of answering.

“You’re going to a place where people can help us figure out why you’ve been feeling bad,” I told Mason.

“You can ask questions there.