We looked at her, hopefully.

‘There might be space for us.’ Her face brightened. ‘They wouldn’t be able to get us up there.’

‘Lift her up,’ I said.

She climbed on to James’s back before he’d even stood properly, but he pushed her up, balancing her on his shoulders. She pushed open the hatch and pulled herself in, so that she was standing on James’s shoulders.

‘It’s a large space,’ she said. ‘There’s a sloping roof and it’s dark. There are no windows. There’s stuff up here in boxes too. It looks really nice and cosy.’

‘There’s a chair,’ I said, pointing to the front bedroom. ‘If we put that chair underneath the hatch, then we can climb up more easily . . . if we need to.’ I didn’t like the idea of going up there at all, though. We really would be trapped if we were up there, with no windows, no way of getting out. The thought of a cosy sloping roof made my throat clench almost as much as the noise of the kriks outside. Lana and James clambered down.

‘We’re going to try and kill them first,’ I said, deciding. ‘Before we go up there.’

The others turned to me resignedly. With the promise of somewhere to hide, their fear was more focused now. They were more interested in fighting.

‘We’re going to go get the curtain poles, and we’ll call the kriks over to the window. The one furthest away from the front door. Then we’ll break the windows, pour that petrol on them, and set them on fire,’ I said.

‘That might mean we’re setting the house on fire, though,’ said James, screwing up his face. But I could tell he was faking his confusion. I knew he’d do it really. I knew he’d fight.

‘Yeah, it might,’ I said. ‘But I reckon that if the house is on fire, then it still means they are, too. So we’ll be killing them and we can escape.’

There was another crash round at the back, and then another silence. What were they doing?

‘How do we work the matches?’ said Lana, peering at the packet.

Kate went over to the chair, and started carrying it into the hallway. From outside, from the far kitchen wall, there was a gentle scratching noise. They’d stopped calling to each other; this faint scratching was almost worse. We knew what was coming. We’d known it as soon as we’d seen that shadow on the beach, really.

‘I’ll stand here, with the fork,’ said James. ‘I’ll let you know if you need to get up in the roof. Quickly.’