‘Ah, yeah, we knew about that from the thread,’ said the second fireman.

Alexa frowned at Jack again.

‘Don’t worry – I’ve just turned off the water at the mains,’ said the third fireman, reassuringly. ‘At first glance, it looks like something might be wrong with your pressurized water hose.’

Ellen looked aghast.

‘Easily fixable, though, if you get a plumber in,’ he added, kindly. ‘Your kitchen is in a bit of a bad way, but the hall has held up OK. Might just need recarpeting.’

‘And your door will need a new lock,’ said the second firemen, quickly. ‘Afraid we had to force it.’ He raised his hands in surrender. ‘Didn’t use the axe on it, though, like we did with this one. So should be easy to sort quickly,’ he added, in the straightforward tone of a man for whom knocking up a drywall or fixing a busted front door was no bother.

‘Fuck,’ Ellen said, with the intensity of a tenant for whom a security deposit was a serious bother.

‘So, how did it happen?’ asked the first fireman, his tone that of the pleasant air of a man asking how the weather had been on your holiday. ‘How did you get stuck up here?’

‘The door handle fell off,’ Ellen said, quietly. She pointed at the discarded pieces on the floor.

‘So, Jack, is that what the thread said?’ Alexa asked him, urgently. She was determined to get to the bottom of this. ‘Just about the flood?’

‘Yeah’ – Ellen was concentrating now too – ‘why would tweets about our kitchen flooding go viral?’ She added, meanly, ‘You don’t even have any followers.’

There was an awkward pause.

Jack opened his mouth and then closed it again. He looked indignant, but also a little like he wished he could disappear.

Alexa continued to give him a hard stare.

Eventually, Ben broke the stalemate. ‘Shall we perhaps get out of this attic, then?’ he said, haltingly. ‘Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’m absolutely bursting for a piss.’

It suddenly seemed to occur to them all, afresh, that they were still standing in the attic.

‘Yes,’ Ellen said, with feeling. ‘Please let’s get out of here.’

There was a moment of silly English politeness as no one wanted to appear rude by going first. Then Ellen muttered, ‘After you,’ and the firemen climbed out through the door frame. The last one picked up the mouse gingerly by the tail as he left and carried it out of the room. He was followed by Ellen, then Ben and then Jack – who, Alexa noted, got his T-shirt caught on a sliver of wood.

‘One minute,’ she said, quietly. ‘Just going to close the skylight.’