When she’d finished eating, she went over to the shelves and looked at the books. They were a mixed bunch; most of them she’d never heard of, but there was one she did recognize. The Twits by Roald Dahl. She took it off the shelf and flicked through the pages. It was so familiar, like meeting an old friend. She wondered what had happened to all her old books, back there in her house in Holloway. Were they all still where she’d left them? She hadn’t thought to take any with her when she’d moved into Waitrose with the other kids. And there wasn’t a day when she wished she hadn’t left them behind. It had been so boring living there with nothing to do all day.

No. Best not to remember any of that. Best not to picture her old room that she’d shared with Sam. Poor Sam. Her big brother – even if he was only little. Taken by the grown-ups. Gone forever. She mustn’t think about him.

Ella put the book back on the shelf and looked up at the grey sky, the fine rain falling through the roof. Why did Scarface live in here and not in the house? It must get very cold. And damp. She remembered how the bricks of the farmhouse were black from fire. Maybe it wasn’t safe in there?

And here? Was this going to be her life now? Stuck here with this – what did the kids back at the museum call them? – sicko. Stuck here with this sicko. Nothing had been right since Sam had been taken and they’d left Holloway. She still thought of it as home.

‘What are we going to do today?’ she asked, then saw that he’d picked up a short pole with a clubbed end studded with nails and jagged bits of metal. For a second she thought he meant to attack her with it, but instead he walked over and gave it to her, then went to the door they’d come in by. It was well protected, with bars and bolts and a steel post jammed at an angle, the bottom end wedged against a concrete block set into the floor.

‘What do you expect me to do with this?’ Ella asked as he started to remove everything so that they could get out. ‘I’m too small to fight and it’s really heavy.’

Scarface ignored her, but when she propped it against the wall he patiently picked it up and gave it back to her.

Ella thought it best not to argue any more.

Eventually Scarface was able to open the door and they went outside. Ella looked round the farmyard. There were three more barns of different sizes and in the middle the half-burned farmhouse, looking dark and miserable.