‘Open your legs. Bit more . . . stop, that’s fine.’

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, turning towards her. ‘The croissants were really nice.’

She doesn’t look at him. ‘Face down the range,’ she says curtly and leans round him until her body is pressing into his back. She reaches out to adjust his grip on the pistol. ‘Left hand here, right hand here. Relax and breathe normally. I’m going to watch you fire. If I tap your shoulder then stop firing. Understood?’ She doesn’t wait for the reply but pushes the defender back over his ear and taps his shoulder.

He fires the weapon, feeling the immense jolt travel through his arms into his shoulders. The noise is incredible too, and far louder than he remembers from Holborn. He adjusts his grip a little and shuffles slightly then fires again and this time he notices the little puff in the air as the bullet hits the sandbags. He keeps going, feeling that violent recoil in his hands until the weapon clicks empty. He turns to notice they’re both watching him intently.

‘What?’ he asks, seeing her mouth move but not hearing the words. She tugs the defender from his ear again.

‘I said you don’t flinch,’ she says.

‘Am I meant to flinch?’

‘No.’

‘Okay.’

‘Keep going.’

‘I’ve run out of bullets.’

‘Rounds.’

‘What are?’

‘The bullets are rounds.’

‘Oh. I’ve run out of them anyway.’

‘Load more then.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. Keep going.’

‘Thanks for the croissants—’

‘Ben!’ she snaps in irritation. ‘Focus.’

‘Okay, sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry, just bloody focus on what you’re doing.’

He goes back to the table with his cheeks stinging from the rebuke and feeling even more childish. He loads up the magazine while they watch him closely. Safa now holding her pistol down at her side, one-handed, and just from the way she holds it you can tell she’s been around weapons a lot. Harry looks entirely at ease apart from still tracking every move Ben makes.

Back at the line, Ben gets the grip, adjusts his feet and fires into the sandbags. He doesn’t really aim but more points and pulls the trigger. It’s a novelty and something different for a few minutes.

‘Try and aim now,’ she says. ‘Line the sights up like I told you before, you already know how to hold it. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pluck it or snatch it. Squeeze. Be confident but not cocky and aim properly.’

‘Okay.’ He loads up, turns back and shoots the sandbag wall.

‘I said try and aim,’ she says tightly.

‘I was.’ He shrugs and goes back for another go. The top tier of sandbags has the sky behind it so he sort of aims for the third tier down.

‘That’s not aiming. That’s pointing and shooting. Do it properly.’