They turn quickly at the sound of the metal shutter behind them starting to rise.

‘They’re coming in through the window . . .’

‘We’re not coming through the window, Mr Madden,’ Malcolm calls. ‘Please just stay calm. Everything will be explained.’

‘What’s going on?’ Safa asks, glancing at Ben. Her face fixed with a grim expression.

‘I don’t know,’ Ben replies. ‘We’ll stay together though, yeah?’

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Harry?’

‘It might be a gas attack . . . they pump gas into the rooms . . .’

‘We’re not in Germany,’ Safa snaps. ‘We’re not at war . . .’

The motor hums gently, pulling up the metal shutter that clacks noisily like a slow-moving train. Daylight spills through the narrow gap at the bottom that widens slowly. They stay by the chairs with Harry closest to the door. All three of them watching the sliver of light grow wider as the shutter pulls up to reveal a thick pane of glass. It keeps going up as Harry steps closer to Ben and Safa and pauses. A green splash of grass comes into view. Thick and lush-looking. The side of a hill with a steep turf bank on the left side. The shutter clacks and they stare motionless as the view opens up to show the bank stretching off into the distance and what looks like a steep drop to the right side.

‘Blue skies,’ Safa says, ducking down to see under the shutter. It goes higher until a gloriously deep blue sky comes into view with perfect white fluffy clouds sailing high. It looks normal, nice but normal.

‘Go to the window,’ Malcolm calls out. ‘Look down the hill.’

‘Trap,’ Harry mutters.

‘I’ll go,’ Safa says, moving towards the window.

‘Miss, let me . . .’

‘I said I’ll go,’ Safa says, waving a hand at him. She reaches the window and looks first to the left then ahead and finally to the right and down the hill. She freezes. Not a muscle twitches. She doesn’t blink but just stares with her heart thumping so loud she swears the other two must be able to hear it.

‘Fuck . . .’ she whispers.

‘What?’ Ben asks.

‘Oh my fucking God . . . fuck . . . fuck . . .’

‘What?’ Ben asks again.

‘Look.’ She barely breathes the word but lifts a shaking hand to point down to the right side. Ben glances at Harry and they both weave round the chairs to join her and look down into a huge, magnificent sweeping valley. They have the same reaction as Safa and both stare frozen to the spot, unable to move.

‘What the fuck are they?’ Safa eventually asks.

‘They’re . . .’ Ben says, swallowing.

‘Are they?’

‘Er . . . they look like it,’ Ben says.

‘I see,’ she replies calmly.

‘Aye,’ Harry mutters.

‘Yes,’ Safa says.

‘Indeed,’ Ben says.

‘Aye,’ Harry says.

‘Fuck,’ Safa says.

‘Indeed,’ Ben says.

‘Aye,’ Harry says.

‘Outside,’ she says, ‘they’re . . .’