The policeman was fighting now, trying to push away from the door, but Daddy Ivan was too strong. He turned his hips when the policeman tried to kick him between his legs; he ducked to the side when the policeman tried to slam his forehead agin his nose.

I can’t, says Daddy George. I can’t.

I felt Daddy Tam’s hand loosen on my wrist.

Here, I’ll do it, says he.

And he let go of Esther’s wrist, and mine, and he went to the others and he grabbed the gun from George’s hand.

Then Esther near pulled me off my feet.

She dragged me out to the hall, to the front door, and I saw it was open a crack and then I knew what was happening. She threw the door open and pulled me through, and I mind the sun hanging over the trees, just touching the tops of them, lighting the leaves up bright green. Birds scattering out of the branches. And the gate at the end of the drive.

We ran around the car, me trailing behind, and along the drive.

The others, says I, the Mummies.

We can’t help them, says Esther. Run. Just run.

And we did, my hand in hers, our feet grinding on the gravel.

There was an awful bang from behind, and something cut through the air between us. I felt it pass even if I couldn’t see it. Then another bang, and this time something passed above us, and I heard Daddy Tam curse.

We were almost at the gate, and the lane beyond it. And I was tittering and laughing like it was the best game I’d ever played.

A third bang, and it went wide, the branches of the trees ahead of us turning into splinters. Daddy Tam cursed again and shouted something about his rifle. And now we were through the gate, and says Esther, This way, this is the way we came.

We were on the lane and we were running, Esther in front, pulling me behind and I was laughing and laughing and now Esther was laughing too, and I thought we would really do it. I thought we could really get away.

22: Sara

22: Sara

Greenway Care and Convalescence Home stood at the centre of Morgan Demesne, an expanse of gardens and woodland on the far side of Morganstown. It had once been a grand house, built by the Morgan family who had established the village around its linen mill. The mansion’s two wings had been converted into a mix of small assisted-living apartments and single bedrooms. A gentle exercise class was being held on the lawn in front of the house; some of the residents paused and watched as Tony’s van passed along the driveway, and he parked in one of the bays in the shadow of the building, facing the expanse of lush green lawn.