His wife had suggested using one of the side exits that were less crowded, but it was cold outside and they had their eight-year-old granddaughter with them. He had reminded his wife that the theatre was brand new and there was unlikely to be a genuine problem. They were probably being used as guinea pigs for the first full evacuation.

Expecting the alarm to be silenced at any moment, Rex shuffled beneath the shadow of the circle, missing the peculiar shower of grit that attracted Hilary Clarke’s attention directly above him. ‘Maybe we should sit—’

An explosion of falling masonry and splintered timber propelled Rex forward into sudden darkness. His popcorn flew into the air as he landed on his hands and knees. The emergency lighting came on, but there was a dense cloud of dust swirling around him, pressing against his chest with almost as much force as the terror gripping his heart. Frantically, he groped around until he found his wife and granddaughter. They needed to move, but he sensed danger ahead, where the crowd had contracted into an impossibly small space. Danger lay behind them too, in the smouldering ruins.

Choking on dust, Rex scrambled sideways until his back was pressed against the wall. He pulled his family close to him, wanting to shield them as best he could, but his arms were as short and stout as his body. He wasn’t built for heroics. All he could do was put his hands over his granddaughter’s ears so she didn’t have to listen to the screams; screams that eventually faded to whimpers and pleas for help. Even the fire alarm had lost its breath and was a distant mewl.

Amelia released a whimper as the beam of light tempted her into consciousness. It made her eyes sting and she closed them tight, willing the darkness to take her again.

‘Please wake up. Oh God, please wake up.’

‘Mum?’ Amelia asked as she was roused once more. The ground that should be below her was above her head, and she couldn’t figure out why. Then she began to cry.

‘It’s OK, I’ll have you out in no time.’

When something moved above Amelia’s head, an avalanche of dust poured into her makeshift coffin. She choked on the air.

‘Sorry, lovely,’ said the woman. She was coughing too between groans and moans as more of the weight pinning Amelia down was shifted.

The girl’s confusion persisted. ‘I think I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole.’

‘I think you might be right, but it’s time to come out.’

‘My friend Evie was the white rabbit. On the stage.’

‘I bet you were excited to see her.’ Her rescuer’s voice was clearer now that the tomb around Amelia had been dismantled.