‘There is no way out,’ said Moorcus, ‘not from here. The only way out is by train, through the tunnel, but the train hasn’t come back yet and so the tunnel has probably collapsed. And that means that’s it. You’re stuck here. Everyone is. Until the storm’s done and the tunnel’s repaired.’

‘Is it true, Clod, is he right?’

‘There must be some other way,’ I said.

‘There isn’t,’ said Moorcus, ‘and you know it.’

‘Strike him! Strike him!’ called Rowland. ‘I can see you’re thinking about it.’

‘Rowland Collis,’ I said, ‘I’d like you to have this.’ I gave him the skillet.

‘Much obliged.’

‘Lucy, come along. Can you walk? Let me help you.’

‘They’ll find you,’ said Moorcus, ‘they’ll catch you, and when they do, they’ll do for her. And you, Clod, I don’t know what they’ll do to you, but I shouldn’t like it myself, it’s certain to smart.’

‘Is this the key to your chain, Rowland?’ I asked, pulling the key from Moorcus’s waistcoat pocket.

‘The very same, I suppose,’ said Rowland, ‘though I don’t see it much myself.’

‘No, Clod,’ cried Moorcus, ‘I warn you, give that back.’

I gave Rowland the key.

‘Much obliged.’

‘No, Toastrack, no,’ said Moorcus. ‘I’ll have that please. At once. You are my toast rack!’

‘Rowland,’ I said, ‘if you please.’

Moorcus yelped.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Don’t mention,’ said Rowland.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Lucy.

Down-house-drown-house

To have her beside me again. To feel her, warm and moving. Battered, yes, bruised and tattered, but here with a limp and some cuts, my heart. What a lucky thing, what a life I’m leading. I’m alive, I thought, I’m living now. We shan’t die, shall we? I wondered suddenly, not now surely, that would be too cruel. Not now she’s beside me again. We’ll get out and we’ll shout and dance and be ourselves. I’m fifteen and a half, and trousered what’s more.