Phipps looked up from the barricade he was helping to erect and gave a proud salute, despite the momentary fear that had gripped him. ‘Reporting for duty, sir!’

‘Good lad,’ Rocastle beamed. The other boys were taking rifles from the boxes, swinging them excitedly over their shoulders. ‘Any questions, Smith?’

Smith’s glance had settled briefly on his umbrella, which he’d propped in the corner by the door, but now his attention returned to the Head. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘None at all.’

Benny and Alexander asked directions from one of the boys as he scurried past them, and found the right way to the dorm, climbing a spiral staircase. On the landing they met Joan, also on her way up.

‘Mrs Redfern.’ Benny stopped her. ‘Joan. Can’t you do something to stop all this? The Doc⁠ — John⁠ — doesn’t want to get involved in a battle, does he?’

‘There’s not going to be a battle,’ Joan told her. ‘Those outside will either realize that they cannot enter, or will encounter the police.’ Benny was about to say something else, but she interrupted her. ‘Believe me, Miss Summerfield, I’m not happy about this either. I lost somebody dear to this sort of idiocy.’

‘Both of us.’ Benny put a hand on her arm.

Joan sized her up for a moment. ‘Then come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s see if our counsel may avert disaster.’

As the three of them reached the door of the dormitory, there came an ear splitting blast of noise from inside.

Alexander threw the door open. Phipps was sitting astride the Vickers gun, his teeth clenched together as he fired a withering blast. The weapon had been assembled atop one of the beds beside the window. Smith was standing beside it, the ammunition belt in his hands, his eyes closed. He seemed to be counting or reciting to himself, cut off from what was happening around him. The other boys were standing around, gazing at Phipps with a kind of holy awe, their rifles unslung, ready to take up firing positions.

‘Test firing completed!’ Phipps reported, sitting back on his haunches. ‘Saw a couple of them out there, sir, but they ran off when we got the Vickers going!’

‘That’s… the idea.’ Smith opened his eyes again, and frowned as he saw the new arrivals. ‘Joan, I mean, Mrs Redfern. What are you doing here?’

‘I’m here with my medical kit,’ she said, sitting down determinedly on one of the beds. ‘In case anybody gets injured.’

‘Oh, that’s bad form,’ whispered Hutchinson to Merryweather. He’d been pacing the room angrily ever since Phipps had been chosen to man the gun. ‘Women on the front line, and talking about injuries!’