Dorian didn’t have time to think or aim; he fired the shotgun in the direction he was looking. The 12-bore cartridge, at point-blank range, punched a hole in the centre of the Mau Mau’s chest, killing him instantly and throwing his body against the wrecked door frame.

‘Get out, Sophie, get out!’ Dorian yelled.

Sophie looked at him for an instant, then darted for the door into the hall, keeping low as a fusillade of shots peppered the air around her. She made it to the exit, dashed into the hall and screamed, ‘Help! Help! Someone . . . please!’

Dorian fired the second round in his shotgun, unable to make out any specific targets in the chaotic mêlée, hoping for the best. He wanted to reach for his Sten, which was lying on the floor at his feet, but there was no time.

Another Mau Mau was coming his way. He too had not bothered reloading his empty gun, preferring to fight with his knife. Dorian had no bayonet with which to fend him off. He grabbed his shotgun by the barrel, ignoring the scalding heat, and jabbed the gun-butt at the man’s face.

The Mau Mau dodged the blow, swatted away the gun with his left hand and kept moving forward. There was a terrible grin on his face as he bore down upon Dorian, like a black panther on a frightened deer.

Dorian heard his brother shouting, ‘You too, Dory! Save yourself! Go!’

He swung his gun again, hitting the Mau Mau on his upper arm but not slowing him.

Dorian had no defence left. His only hope was to flee. He turned, tried to run, but brought his foot down on the abandoned Sten gun. It skidded a few inches on the floor. Dorian lost his balance. He stumbled to his knees.

A second later an arm wrapped itself around Dorian’s neck and lifted him upwards. He smelled the rank tang of the Mau Mau’s sweat. He felt the arm let go of his neck then, an instant later, a hand had grabbed his hair and his head was being pulled back.

Dorian’s throat was exposed. He lashed out with his arms but hit nothing but air. He stamped his feet down on the Mau Mau’s boots, but that made not the slightest jot of difference.

He sensed the Mau Mau’s arm bring the panga across his upper body. He sensed the cold, biting touch of honed steel against his skin. And a thought flashed across Dorian Courtney’s mind.

This is what it feels like to die.

Leon emptied his Sten in two bursts, firing round the side of the cabinet without looking. It was suppressing fire, intended to force the enemy to take cover.

Leon threw the empty magazine away, slammed in the fresh one, then prepared to make a fighting retreat. He crouched down, his gun at his shoulder, ready to fire and move.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sophie running for the door.