The top of the cliff was different from how I’d imagined it when we were looking from the Jellyfish. The picture in my mind was a big grassy hill that maybe led down to a forest, and then endless nature with running deer and foxes and whatever. There was grass, and some sheep, and a few trees, but there was a paved pathway down to the town below, where we could now see the houses and streets more clearly. From here I could see where the town finished – there was more grass and hills on the other side – so I could see that it didn’t go on for ever; but it was still a really long way to the other side.

On our hillside, the sheep grazed contentedly, staying well away from us, but also not running off into the town below. Their furry bodies were dirty clouds of clumpy wool, with shaggy wretched bits hanging even over their eyes. On some of them it was definitely hard to tell which end was which. They’d looked much whiter and more attractive from the Jellyfish, but I’d still have loved to go and touch one. Whenever I managed to get close, though, they just sidled casually away down the hill. A few people had muttered bravely last night about catching one and roasting it, but in the end we’d just eaten a few tins of cat food instead. We’d all complained and winced exaggeratedly as we’d taken those first few mouthfuls, but in truth, it was glorious. Delicious meaty pieces which just seemed to fall apart in your mouth, with barely a need to chew. I’d tried to savour each spoonful, but somehow they’d each just slipped down my throat before I felt that I’d tasted them enough. Nobody had complained or winced for long; and most people had scooped out their tins with their fingers afterwards, to make sure they’d got every last speck.

‘Get up. Get up!’ Soldier John called everybody to attention. ‘We need to rescue the others this morning.’

Dr Jones started to pass round some more delicious cat food.

‘Are they still alive?’ whispered James. He was leaning on a garden fork and clutching a spade in his other hand. Both would make good weapons, but I think it’s more that he was proud of his ingenuity in having thought of it first. Other people had got small kitchen knives or cricket bats – nothing that would be useful against kriks really.

‘Don’t know,’ I whispered back. ‘Nothing was moving while I was watching.’