‘I know I am.’ I laughed. Troy joined in. And for a moment, just for a moment, the sun came out.

‘Do you … er … do you need me to unzip you or something?’ My burning face had raised the temperature in the basement by a few degrees.

‘No thanks. I can manage,’ said Troy dryly.

‘Thank God for that.’ Leaving Troy leaning over the bucket, with one hand on the wall, I headed over to the far corner.

‘Call me when you’ve finished and I’ll help you back to the crate,’ I called out.

‘Will do.’

‘And hit the bucket, not the floor around it,’ I told him. ‘The last thing either one of us needs right now is to slip on one of your deposits and crack our heads open on the ground.’

‘You really are a glass half full kinda girl, aren’t you?’

‘Are you sure I can’t watch you?’ I asked, my back to Troy. ‘It’ll help you to focus if you know you’ve got an audience.’

‘Libby, please take this in the spirit in which it’s intended – bugger off.’

‘Charming!’ I chuckled, but the trouble was, now that I’d joked about watching him, the idea kind of took root in my head. I started to turn my head when I heard the sound of pee hitting the bucket.

Libby, you sad specimen. Don’t you dare.

I turned back to the wall like a naughty child, cheeks flaming. Honestly! When he’d finished and had zipped up, Troy called me over.

‘D’you think you could manage to sit on the floor with my help?’ I asked as we headed back to the crate.

‘Why?’

‘So we can both get some sleep with no fear of falling off anything,’ I said.

Troy nodded. We made our way to the wall closest to the stairs. Troy leaned against it before slowly sliding down, trying to control his descent. I did my best to help, but he waved me away. About twenty centimetres from the ground, his good leg, which had been taking all his weight, gave out and he dropped fast, his bum hitting the ground with a thud. Instantly Troy bit his lip to stop himself from crying out. Eyes closed, his head back, he took several deep breaths before he could even open his eyes again.

‘Are you OK? I’m sorry—’

Troy glared at me.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Shit!’

‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ said Troy, his voice, like his smile, weak.

I sat down beside him, wrapping my arms round his waist and resting my head on his shoulder.

‘Libby?’

‘Just for warmth. That OK?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Night, Troy.’

‘It feels like we should be doing more than just trying to sleep.’

‘We’ll both feel better after a nap and, besides, it’ll stop us thinking about being hungry and thirsty.’