‘Everything,’ Ellen said, grimly. ‘About us being in the attic and the MSN drama and me pissing in a box.’

‘Jack?’ Alexa sounded hurt. ‘Why would you do that?’

Ellen handed the phone back to him. She felt exposed, furious, uncomfortable.

‘Hope Elias doesn’t see that, or we’re screwed,’ she said, coldly. She couldn’t look at him. ‘If he knows that we locked ourselves in the attic, then there’s no getting away with anything.’ She wished toothy Tim weren’t here to witness this.

‘Sorry,’ Jack said, limply. He was staring at his submerged feet. ‘I was only trying to help …’ A pause. ‘And I did, in the end. I got us out.’

‘Yeah, but you also humiliated me on the internet,’ Ellen said, brusquely.

‘Why didn’t you say something?’ Alexa asked. ‘We could have all done the thread together.’

‘Well, it probably wouldn’t have got as many retweets, without him sharing all the intimate personal details.’ Ellen bit her lip. She couldn’t believe meek Jack had done something so underhand. She wanted to shake him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, miserably. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

Alexa made an infuriated noise. ‘Obviously, we’re glad you got us out.’

He glanced at her, hopefully, but she remained stony-faced.

Ellen narrowed her eyes.

The awkward silence was broken by the sound of one of the firemen, who was sploshing down the few steps to the dining area to save the tote bag. Having done so, he placed it gently on the side of the table, which was marooned in the centre of the flood like an island. He looked up, as if to say something, before thinking better of it and sploshing back up the stairs to join his buddies.

‘Shall we go prep the hoses and see if we can get some of this water extracted?’ asked the stocky fireman.

His colleagues nodded and squeezed past Tim, who seemed rather awed to be in their company. The cameraman also hopped out of the way. They all listened to the sound of the men’s footsteps squelching in the hall. Jack was very pink.

‘Well, er, thanks for rescuing us, mate,’ Ben said into the silence. ‘I might, um’ – he looked at Alexa, meaningfully – ‘maybe, go home?’

‘Yes, um, your stuff’s upstairs, I think. Do you want to …?’ She trailed off, pointing at the door.

They both edged past Tim, Alexa apologizing as she did so. Ellen was still watching Jack. He was staring at the water.

‘Well!’ said Tim. ‘Jack, do you have time just to do a quick interview, outside?’ He stepped marginally closer, so he could catch a better look at Jack. ‘You could get changed, maybe?’ he added, spotting Jack’s tracksuit bottoms. ‘Or not – we’ll be shooting from the waist up anyway, so it doesn’t really matter about’ – he paused for a second, to work out how to phrase it delicately – ‘your trousers.’