A ragged cheer rose and Silas turned to see the woman lift the child from the constable’s arms, who now strode towards him. The girl, crying for her mother, was borne away.

‘Oi, you boy. Wait up.’

He reached Silas, breathless from the rescue. ‘It’s not safe here. This whole row’s coming down, one way or t’other.’

‘This is Mrs Armitage’s house?’

The constable’s nod removed the last shred of hope in Silas’s head.

‘I lodge ’ere.’ Silas looked up at still intact roof slates. ‘The attic.’

‘Not anymore you don’t. Have you anywhere else to go?’

Silas shook his head. ‘No, I’ve…’ He gasped for breath. ‘My dog! I left my dog tied up in the yard. She’ll be frantic. My bag’s in the kitchen, my money, clothes.’

He picked his way over a pile of bricks towards the rear of the terrace.

‘There’s no dog nor nowt else back there! No kitchen nor attic neither!’

Silas ignored him and the man made no move to follow. Perhaps he already knew what Silas would find.

‘Shandy!’ She would come, to his call. ‘Shandy, Shandy, here girl! Come on, girl!’

Rubble rose like a frozen wave against the walls of the surviving houses. There were no privies, no backyard walls or gates. The door he had closed on Shandy yesterday evening had gone, swallowed by the wave.

‘Shandy!’

She could be trapped under the rubble, injured, waiting patiently for Silas to rescue her. He kicked at the pile but the toe of his flimsy borrowed shoe struck metal, sending a bolt of pain through his foot. The mass was solid. She could not survive under there, so she must be somewhere else.

‘Shandy!’

He had tied her up. It was all he could think about. He had tied her up.

There were shouts in the distance and a heavy, drawn-out rumble. Silas froze. Another flood come to sweep him off his feet and he knew in his bones that this time he would not survive it. His luck had run out. Another rumble, louder than the last but nowhere near the deafening roar of the flood. Silas crouched in the rubble, put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

More shouts, closer.

‘It’s comin’ down!’

‘Gerrout the way, the lot o’ you!’

The constable, the same one as before, pulling on Silas’s sleeve. ‘Come on, scarper, before this one goes an’ all!’

Silas staggered to his feet as the exposed guts of his lodgings released a ceiling beam, spear-like, into the broken bricks beneath.

‘I already told thee, there’s nowt to find here.’ The man sounded more exasperated than angered. ‘Get along, now. Go on.’

‘I’m goin’,’ he mumbled.

Silas wandered away from the river and up a steep lane. At the top, he looked out over a cluster of factory chimneys. Smudges of grey floated serenely across the pale blue sky.

‘Shandy!’

She could be teasing him, stalking him, belly on the ground, nose twitching. Playing a game. If he turned at the right moment – ‘Gotcha!’ – she’d bark in delight and bolt towards him. Or follow him, at a distance, and he would have to win back her trust. Every glance back filled him with fresh despair. But better that, better that than accept she was lying crushed under the rubble.