I had to reach a decision: whether to follow Silver and Alison onto the balcony or attempt a crossing of the tarpaulin. I couldn’t make up my mind. If we were going to be caught, I wanted to be with Silver. Suppose we weren’t? Suppose they failed to reach us before we had crossed the remaining roofs to safety? In that case I ought to get to the end of the terrace and be there to help the others down the nailhead steps onto the house that stood alone.

The searchlight had moved away. Darkness came down like a curtain until my eyes accustomed themselves to it. What I saw on the balcony frightened me. Alison was frozen where she stood, unable to move, her hands not gripping the stone ridge but flat against the brickwork. I said she was frozen but just the same I thought I saw her body shaking, a continuous tremor thrilling through it. Silver had hauled himself up onto a window frame. The room inside, part of one of the fire-damaged flats, was of course empty. I could hear him whispering quite coolly and calmly to Alison to put one of her hands on the step and give him the other, he’d hold her, he’d guide her across the crack. Slowly, after much more urging, she drew her hands from the bricks and stood, holding on to nothing, looking wildly around her.

“Take it easy,” Silver was saying. “Take it slowly. Give me your right hand. Give me your hand now, Alison. I’ll put both of your hands on the step and all the while I’ll hold you under your arms. You’re quite safe.”

She took not the least notice of what he said. He slid down the architrave onto the windowsill, put down one foot onto the balcony floor, then, gingerly, the other.

“No, Silver,” I said to him in a loud whisper. “No. Don’t.”