Rosie continued to shudder and jerk as the smooth swinging light kept on its path ever nearer to them. It almost hypnotized Thea. She couldn’t keep her eyes from it, a frightened field mouse in the gloom. It inched closer.

And closer still.

Holding Rosie proved difficult, so in the end Rory pushed her feet down and Thea took her by the shoulders, her head on her lap, all three of them squashed so tightly against the wall, Thea could smell the mould covering it.

The light crept nearer, skimming over the floor an inch or so away from them.

Thea had never held herself this still in all her life, her heart loud in her ears and her muscles straining.

The light lazily trailed closer to them, so leisurely that Thea was sure it had slowed down on purpose.

It trailed an inch past Thea, then worked its way, so agonizingly close, past Rosie’s shoulders, her hips, legs, knees …

It stopped.

Some dogs, when they hunted, froze to something called a point while they sniffed out whatever game they were tracking, Thea thought wildly. That’s what the light was doing. It was trying to sniff them out.

But her thoughts were interrupted when Rosie suddenly arched her back, kicking her feet hard and Thea jolted with her, seeing it almost in slow motion as the light started moving again and Rory’s hand was kicked away. He went reeling backwards and Rosie’s trainer flailed out.

Heading straight into the beam’s tracking light.

It was fitting, Thea decided in a strange, floaty way, as if she was no longer a part of the room but a ghost hovering above it, looking down on them. It was fitting that a scuffed and soggy trainer would be the thing to get them caught; after all, it was what had got them all into this in the first place, her asking: ‘Please, miss? May I have some shoes?’

The light moved closer to Rosie’s trainer and the floaty feeling disappeared as Thea slammed back into the room and almost scrambled over her, trying to reach her foot. She imagined the light creeping across the laces and the wall behind them being laser-beamed into smithereens as they were all killed in a blaze of heat and a shower of cuddly monk stuffing.

The light was nearly at the sole of Rosie’s shoe.

Thea stretched until her sore shoulder felt ready to pop, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to reach her foot in time and could only watch helplessly as the light crept closer and closer and closer …

But then, with a grunt, Rory heaved himself up and threw himself forward, his fingers grasping on to the padded tongue of Rosie’s trainer, dragging it back with a second to spare as the light washed past them, cool and white.

They cowered in the shadows.

One long breath in … and hold the breath …