Claudia Rothwell had been sipping coffee further up the high street when the fire alarm had sounded. She had been killing time, waiting for the show to finish so she could slip home without anyone realising she hadn’t gone to what she suspected was an intensely boring amateur ballet. The alarm, however, had been the first warning that the night would prove to be far from dull, and her heart had been in her throat as she raced towards the red glow in the sky.

She had pushed through the crowd gathering outside the Empress with a sense of determination matched only by those fleeing danger. A stitch cut into her side, and her legs threatened to buckle as she circled the building. The people coming out of the fire doors at the side were covered in dust and grime, and some of that grime was blood.

Claudia had been planning to post a comment on Instagram about how great the show was, along with a photo of the programme to prove she was where she claimed to be. Thank God she hadn’t. The night was turning into all kinds of wrong, and she had to put things right. But how?

Inside the theatre, the dust was settling, revealing small fires and debris strewn across the left-hand side of the auditorium. Buried beneath one pile of rubble was Amelia. She had been fortunate in that the largest chunks of falling masonry had broken up as they ricocheted off the balcony, but they had struck with enough force to break bones.

It was the pain that roused her from her troubled sleep, and she let out a bleating cry when she realised it was no dream. She was lying on her stomach with her head pressed against a rough and tattered piece of cloth that was damp and sticky. It was too dark to see, but Amelia caught the faintest whiff of her mum’s perfume, and something else, something metallic. Her mum’s jacket was soaked in blood. She tried to move, but couldn’t.

‘Mum!’ she cried out tentatively before choking on a mixture of dust and tears. She tried again, fear and adrenalin giving her a voice that rose above the distant wail of the alarm and another sound – people screaming. ‘Please! Help me! Please!’ she sobbed. ‘I want my mummy!’

When no response came, Amelia closed her eyes. She must have fallen asleep because confusion returned when she sensed a flickering light cross her closed eyelids. She remained trapped, but she was no longer alone.