Ellie looked at her phone: two hours had passed. She was almost surprised the things were taking so long to work their way through Barsall’s population. Weapons were useless against them; only light seemed to deter them. Maybe a few people still had light sources, forcing the attackers to find ways to extinguish them, or to wait till candles burned out and batteries were drained. Or perhaps they were toying with their prey, like cats with mice: making them suffer, drawing out their game.

Fire was a possible defence, even a weapon, but what good was that to them here, hiding indoors? For now they would just have to wait.

Another hour went by. The Robinsons huddled together, hands clasped; Ernie Stasiolek, thumping his fist against his thigh, eyed the door longingly. Some men would already have run outside, attempting to get back to Chapel Bank, heedless of the danger to themselves or others: Ernie at least was clear-headed enough to recognise he couldn’t help his family dead. Marzena Stasiolek was every inch as tough and level-headed as her husband, and would if necessary die to protect their children. The best course was to get through the night and hopefully find them whenever it was safe. Even so, it could only be a torment to wait helplessly while his neighbours screamed outside – screamed, and eventually fell silent.

And he wasn’t the only one: Milly was silent too, hands over her mouth, but her eyes were brimming and Ellie knew better than to approach her now; Milly was holding things together by the thinnest and most tenuous of threads with Noel out there in the night, quite possibly adding his screams to the rest.

Kate Beck, meanwhile, rocked back and forth, fist in mouth so as not to cry out, doubtless reliving the events of the previous night. Charlotte sat motionless, still looking dazed, having only just woken from her sedated sleep into this.

Madeleine Lowe, for her own part, prayed quietly into her clasped hands. At last she finished and opened her mouth to speak, but then the shutters over the back door rattled and she only gasped.

Ellie hadn’t heard the back gate break down; the things must have climbed over the back wall. She picked up her shotgun; Ernie Stasiolek, face pale and set, loaded two cartridges into his own weapon.

The shutters rattled again. Ellie knelt and took aim at the back door, sweat trickling down her back. The sound wasn’t repeated, but she stayed there until her arms ached; finally she lowered the shotgun and sat back down.

Julie Robinson laughed weakly; it rose, close to hysteria, then stopped. She muttered something to herself.

Madeleine looked up. “What was that?”

Julie shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Was that a rhyme? I thought I...”

After a moment, Julie shrugged. “Just something my great-gran used to say.”

“How did it go?”

Julie looked uncomfortable at the prospect of public performance, but finally whispered: “Board your window, keep on your light, when the Tatterskin walks at night.”