‘Why not box clever over this,’ continued Wimpy Jane. ‘If you put in for a transfer now, it’s certain Smith would support it and you might, just might, get out of your gruntwork early.’

‘And then what?’ scoffed Brave Jane.

‘Then you build yourself a nice little career in Admin or Records. You forget all this ridiculous jumping around and frightening yourself to death. You’ll never have to stand in a dark place again. No more mud and ghosts and homicidal rabbits.’

Brave Jane wasn’t happy. ‘But I was beginning to enjoy it. I was achieving something. Something important. I . . .’

‘Well, there’s not going to be any more of that, is there? Not with Smith around. Apply for the nice, quiet job you always wanted. I bet you get it. Do it today.’

But she didn’t. Perpetually on the verge of applying for a transfer she might be, but something told her that if she gave up now, she’d forever be in a dark place that had nothing to do with the absence of light.

And then, one day, it seemed the matter might have been taken out of her hands.

She was on her way to her room when that familiar voice drifted down the corridor.

‘Jane, dear.’

Jane pinned on a smile and turned around.

‘I thought you might like to see this. They’re looking for a junior clerk in Records. My old department. Although not my old job, obviously. Not a junior clerk.’ She tinkled a laugh that turned Jane’s teeth furry. ‘Anyway, have a look. If you’re interested, I’ll put in a good word for you. I still have friends there.’

She handed Jane a job sheet and passed on.

Jane decided immediately that wild horses couldn’t induce her to put in for a transfer. Ever. The job sheet did go down the incineration chute. She watched the light turn red and wondered why she’d done that. Hadn’t a nice safe job somewhere quiet always been her goal? Was it possible that if Smith hadn’t been involved, she might seriously have considered it? Had she just cut off her nose to spite her face? Was it possible she might have been out of this awful situation by the end of the week?

‘And out of the team, too,’ said Brave Jane, stamping back down the corridor. ‘This is my team. I won’t be pushed out. If I do leave, it’ll be my decision – not hers.’

Two days later, after the morning briefing, she looked up and Smith was there. Right in front of her. And she wasn’t happy.

‘Jane, you haven’t followed up on that post in Records. The one we were talking about.’