Joan was smiling at him. ‘I love you, also.’

Benny took Alexander by the tie and dragged him away, her fists clenched. ‘That woman!’

‘I think it’s wonderful, loved one. Just because you and I have both lost our sweethearts, don’t let’s get bitter, eh?’

‘I am not bitter.’ They began to search the bookshelves. ‘It’s just so obviously going to end in tears. When the Doctor regains his senses, is he going to be pleased to find that he’s going out with a wrinkly racist? I think not. Hey, wait a minute, did you say that you’d lost your sweetheart?’

Alexander froze. ‘Oh, that was a long time ago…’

The library had an ornate plaster ceiling, which Smith stared up at, pointing his umbrella upwards and extending it at intervals in various directions, as if calculating. The only windows were a series of high panels to let in light. As she calmed down, Benny realized that she did, indeed, feel safer here. A number of small explosions were being heard at intervals throughout the school, hard to discern from the thunder outside. The boys were starting to look very stressed indeed, their little faces pinched up and their shoulders hunched. No wonder they hadn’t gone with Hutchinson. Rocastle had hugely overestimated their interest in warfare. They desperately wanted to be rescued.

Despite some bad life decisions he might have made, she felt a surge of pride as she looked at the little man in the middle of the room. He was going to do that. He was going to save the day, again.

Then she caught sight of the look on Joan’s face. She was also staring at Smith, unaware that she was being watched, and, caught unawares like that, she was terribly afraid.

Perhaps sometimes you couldn’t save everybody.

Serif was walking through the corner of the building, using a molecular redistributor to melt away the brickwork in front of him. From the other sides of the school came the noise of the others using their heavy weapons.

The corner masonry dissolved, and Serif walked into a kitchen area, through the remains of what had once been a stove, kicking aside the melting metal doors. Any staff had long since departed. This would make a good place to begin the search.

Greeneye and Hoff were exchanging fire with a group of boys with rifles on a balcony outside Rocastle’s quarters, ducking in and out of a row of ornamental topiary.

‘Fun, isn’t it?’ Greeneye grinned.

‘If you like that sort of thing.’ Hoff clicked a button on his cuff. ‘I’m getting tired of it, though.’

He stepped out in the full view of the boys, and staggered back as a salvo of bullets bounced off the forcefield he’d erected in front of his chest. ‘Good shot!’ he called.

‘My turn!’

He aimed his gun vaguely in the direction of the balcony and squeezed the trigger.