Jack resisted the urge to laugh. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be funny.

Alexa added, ‘Then we could take it in turns to watch out of the window. So that if anyone spots the sign, then we can shout down to them. And … explain the situation in more detail –’

‘And scare them off,’ Ellen retorted, but she was grinning now. ‘Oh fine, of course we’ll do it.’

Alexa rolled her eyes.

‘It’s a good idea,’ Ben said, loyally. ‘Plus, we aren’t busting out of this attic by osmosis.’ He stood up and arched his back.

Jack noticed that Ben’s head almost nudged the ceiling, and he wondered who was taller.

‘We need something to write with,’ Ben instructed. ‘And on.’

‘I think I spotted some paint earlier.’ Jack stood and stretched to his full height, sizing Ben up as he did so. There couldn’t be more than an inch or so in it. ‘Hey, maybe Mrs Chan will see the sign,’ he added, quietly. Jack had struck up an unlikely friendship with Mrs Chan, who lived a few doors down, after he took delivery of a parcel for her a few months back. He knew that Ellen and Alexa thought their friendship was strange.

‘Exactly,’ said Alexa, evenly. ‘Or anyone. Where did you see the paint, Jack?’

Jack tried to recall where he’d spotted the tins. ‘Near the door, maybe?’

He moved to a pile of boxes near the door frame and started excavating them. He could feel Ellen hovering near his left shoulder. There was one box that appeared to be an unmarked grave for computer parts: hundreds of cables, mouses and keyboards that looked like they’d been decommissioned in the 1980s. Everything was dusty, and there were ancient spiderwebs slung across the devices. Looking at the contents made Jack’s eyes feel itchy.

‘God, just think of the dead skin cells that must have been in those keyboards,’ Ellen muttered.

Jack preferred not to. He opened another box, which appeared to be full of starchy old newspapers. A third contained a pair of children’s armbands.

‘So creepy,’ Ellen intoned, stretching out the ‘ee’.

Jack grimaced in agreement, and recalled he’d seen them earlier in his rummage through the attic. Perhaps the box of paint was close? The attic was in such a state of disorder that it was very difficult to remember where anything was. Still, after a little rootling, he disinterred the tins, which were stiff with old paint, from underneath some ratty cloths.

Ellen stepped back.

‘Found it!’ he called out. ‘And I think there are some brushes buried in here too.’ With difficulty – and without any assistance from Ellen – he heaved the box out of the pile of chaos. When he turned round, he saw that Ben had his arms wrapped around Alexa’s waist. They were facing each other, speaking in low tones. She looked pleased.