‘I bet you’ll be glad to get away.’ The campers were making a terrible racket.

‘Uh…yeah.’ He zipped up his bag, then hesitated. ‘There’s a problem,’ he said at last. ‘Shaun was wondering if you could pop over to the men’s.’ He grimaced as I stared at him. ‘Someone used the broken toilet.’

I blinked. My feelings were written all over my face.

‘Who?’ I said.

‘Not sure. No one’s fessing up. I think it’s been there a while.’

‘Shit.’

He nodded. ‘Afraid so.’

I grabbed a bucket from the laundry and followed him out of the house. We split up on the front steps; he made for his hut while I headed for the men’s bathroom. A few cheeky boys said, ‘Hello, miss!’ They were being herded across the parade ground, their wet hair neatly combed. Warren was with them. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed as I passed.

Dean was the last kid left inside the steamy bathroom. He was brushing his teeth while Rhys supervised. They watched me fill my bucket without saying a word. By the time I returned for more water, they were gone.

I was on my fourth bucket when I heard a distant scream. Doesn’t sound good, I thought. But I finished the last flush before leaving.

I was back on the parade ground when I saw smoke drifting from the kitchen window.

‘Jesus!’ I dropped my bucket and ran. The kitchen was emptying. Kids were being shooed into the dining hall. ‘Out! Quick!’ Warren yelled. I pushed through a pack of excited boys, coughing as the smoke grew thicker.

Shaun was alone in the kitchen. He wore oven gloves and was shaking a toaster into the sink.

‘Cardboard,’ he said when he saw me. ‘There was cardboard in the toaster.’

I couldn’t speak. I was coughing too much. A scorched cereal packet lay on the floor, soaking wet. Cornflakes crunched underfoot. There was water everywhere.

‘It started when someone tried to make toast,’ Shaun explained. He began to run the cold tap. I looked around. A fire extinguisher stood on the kitchen table. Thank God no one had covered the place in foam.

‘It’s all right. Nothing major. Just the box—and that.’ Shaun jerked his head at a black mark on the ceiling.

I picked up the sodden box and rammed it into a bin. Then I went to fetch a brush and pan. All the cleaning equipment was tucked behind the freezer in the pantry. I was down on my haunches, trying to dodge clattering mop handles, when I realised the freezer wasn’t humming.

It had been turned off at the wall.

‘For Chrissake!’ I flicked the switch and jumped up. The ice inside the freezer had melted. My chicken drumsticks were sitting in a puddle of water. ‘Goddammit!’

‘Robyn?’

‘Someone turned the bloody freezer off!’

I rushed to check the fridges: they were still running.