Right then, Piggott’s room, first off. I knew the way. Clod kept behind me, but his walk was wrong, staggering like he was drunk or something, dried blood around his ear. Is he going under, I thought, even as I speak? No, no, can’t think like that. Quick as you can. Get everything, get everything and then onwards, and it will be all right, because if you say it will be and he says it will be and so it bloody will be.

‘Come on, old Clod, keep up.’

The ground was covered, Clod stepped and slid over things. Scrapes, great gashes along the wall. All the noises were storm noises from outside, I couldn’t hear any human sounds. Come on, Clod. Round we go. Along the corridor, slipping but up again. His ear. Up you get.

‘All right?’ I shouted.

He put his hands to his ears.

‘All right,’ I said.

On we go. Round the corner, up the stairs. I could hear it then. Piggott’s room, sounds to make you want to run away for all you’re worth. Bells. It was bells. Bells sounding, all the bells of the birth objects of the serving Iremongers all ringing out. Getting louder.

There.

Piggott’s door. Open. Good then.

Don’t think, just do it. Here we are, Clod, in we thrust.

‘Lucy!’ he called.

She was there. Piggott. She would be, wouldn’t she? She was at the back of the room. She was pushing herself against all those bells and drawers, she was forcing herself against them. Some of the drawers were opening, and when they did, Piggott, in her fury, slammed them shut again. She was very ripped, her bun had come loose, her clothes were very torn, I could see her petticoat, her white skin beneath it. Skin of Piggott, not something to dwell upon.

She hadn’t heard us, not with all that noise. Piggott slammed the drawers shut, she was wailing, weeping to keep all those things in. Look at that, I thought, that’s her authority spilling out all over the place. She was wailing, moaning, groaning, awful deep groans like what a cow should make in agony, trying to slap those drawers shut. She couldn’t keep every drawer closed, she couldn’t cover the whole wall up, some things must slip out. There was a boot suddenly out of her grasp and free, there was a pillow, a lice comb, a bicycle wheel. Those free things tumbled to the floor and ran free, they made for the doorway and out to freedom. Moving things! It was such a sight to see! It was beautiful, that’s what it was, so, so beautiful!

‘Go on then,’ I cried, ‘go on, things! Lovely things, go on! Get out! Fly free! Get away! Be gone! Be free!’

‘Look!’ cried Clod. ‘Look at them go!’