The screen still wouldn’t load, but he continued staring at it anyway. In spite of everything, it made him feel a little special. Obviously, none of the people who had responded had actually offered to do anything to help. But it was still exciting. Plus, they only needed one helpful person, really. Just a single person to see Jack’s tweet and offer to come to Rokeby Close and rescue them. He wondered if Alexa might tell him off for putting their address on the internet. But he hadn’t put the number, just the street they were on. And he really wanted them to escape before the whole ground floor was flooded. Jack had started to really worry about the flood. He wondered if his shoes were ruined. He’d left them by the front door, and he didn’t have a second pair.

The WiFi still hadn’t come back, and his arms were starting to ache a little from being held out at full stretch. His phone had 40 per cent battery. He chewed his lip. Perhaps he should stick it on airplane mode for a little while to preserve the power. Soon it would be someone else’s turn to hang out of the window. He turned and stared at the others. They were sitting in the middle of the room, Alexa and Ben sort of cuddling, and Ellen close by. They were quiet.

He couldn’t tell if it was awkward.

Jack had decided he liked Alexa’s sort-of-boyfriend, Ben, whom she had met on Hinge (Ben had told him, with a grin). Granted, he hadn’t been much use at Risk. And he’d locked them in the attic. But Ben had kept him company at the window, which was kind. And their conversation had been alright, really; they’d talked about football a bit, which was easy enough, and which pubs they’d been to around here, and his job. And around Ben, Alexa seemed softer too – smiling, rather than stiff – although it was strange to watch her tucked under Ben’s arm, in her pyjamas. Jack had never seen Alexa act like this before.

He glanced at his phone again. Still not connected. He folded his arms, and decided he wouldn’t mention any of this to the others just yet. It would be better to see if anything concrete came of it, any proper offer of rescue, before he let them see the whole thread. That way, they didn’t need to know he’d put their address on the internet.

‘Any luck, Jacko?’ Ellen demanded from the middle of the room.

He shook his head sadly. ‘No. Sorry.’

‘When we get out of here, we should change internet provider,’ Ellen said, sniffily.

‘Is it OK if one of you takes over here for a bit? So I can sit down?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes, of course, Jack,’ Alexa said, kindly. ‘One of us can switch with you.’