Once I managed to slip past the packhouse, my feet carried me to that lone bench in the garden. Slumping down, I let a sigh escape my chest, eyes raking around. The park was full of flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colours, so many of them, but I could not name a single one. It smelled sweet here, almost overwhelming but also clean and fresh. For a second, I could only imagine what this place must be like in the warmer months when all flowers come into bloom.

My stomach ...