“Don’t stuff it all in at once,” she said as wrappers went flying. “Rosie won’t be impressed if you puke down her neck.”

Chloe sniggered through a mouthful and tapped her left leg. “It’s this one.”

Jem raised the blanket, finding Chloe’s shoe and sock already removed and a black-and-blue ankle swollen to the size of a grapefruit. “Can you wiggle your toes for me? Good girl. Feel me touching you here? How about here?”

Chloe nodded, her cheeks bulging. “Is it broke?”

“I’m not sure,” Jem said, delving into her bag for ibuprofen. “Ankles tend to swell a lot even if they’re not broken, but it’ll definitely be sore for a while. How old are you?”

“Thirteen and a half.”

“Any allergies to medicines?”

“Nope.”

“Excellent. Get these down your neck.” Jem handed her the tablets and turned to Rosie. “All my splints are in the ambulance. Grab some of that wood, and I’ll improvise.”

“Wilco.” Rosie moved with alacrity, returning with numerous pieces of wood she’d kicked off the crates. Jem selected a matched pair and set them either side of Chloe’s ankle.

“Hold these for me?” she asked Rosie. She began to wind a bandage around the makeshift splint, her face close to Rosie’s as she worked. “What the hell is going on?” she murmured.

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” Rosie said. “Let’s get them out and worry about the rest of it once they’re safe. Will your radio work down here?”

“No.”

“Mine neither.” Rosie took an uneven breath. “But backup should be on the way. We can put them on a priority as soon as we get a signal.”

“All right.” Jem felt calmer for having a plan. She added a final piece of tape to the bandage. “How’s that?” she asked Chloe. “Can you still wiggle your toes?”

“Yep,” Chloe said, demonstrating.

“Fab. Are either of you hurt anywhere else?” Although Jem kept her question nonspecific, she shared a relieved glance with Rosie when the girls shook their heads. “We’re all set then,” she said, shrugging into the straps on her response bag so she could wear it like a rucksack. “Chloe, loop your arms around Rosie’s neck. Ava, you stand up with me and get your sea legs.”

They did as she instructed, Ava swaying as a head rush hit her but staying on her feet. Rosie lifted Chloe with ease, settling her in place, and then led the way to the ladder at a pace that suited Jem and Ava. Her foot was on the bottom step, her hands poised to pull herself up, when she froze and peered toward the hatch. Even in the torchlight, Jem saw the colour drain from her face.

“Shit,” Rosie hissed. “Can you smell smoke?”

“No,” Jem said, still supporting Ava and a few feet shy of the ladder. “What? From upstairs?”