She leaned out and fumbled the harness around the hose. A heavy-duty plastic clip snapped shut with reassuring firmness. That done, she gripped the hose with both hands before wrapping her legs over it.

Fear returned. It was not the first time she had used a zip-line, nor climbed a rope; her father had made sure of that, and much more. But it was the first time she had done something where any mistake would kill her.

‘Dad thinks I can do this,’ she whispered. ‘If he thinks I can . . . then I can.’

She started her descent.

After just a few feet, she cleared the floor, the taut hose lifting her as it angled towards the windows. Another surge of fear made her halt. She was now relying entirely on her own strength, and the plastic clip, to keep from falling. ‘I can do this,’ she said, forcing herself not to look down. ‘Oh Jeez. I can do it. I can. I can!’

She set off again, reaching the windows. Wind gusted around her. Again she refused to look down, instead fixing her gaze on the hose’s now-visible far end. It was about five storeys lower – and to her relief and joy, she saw her father waving from a broken window.

Filled with sudden hope, she headed across the gap, taking her hands off the hose to slide freely, at first for brief moments, then for longer and longer. She picked up speed, moving so fast that her hands almost couldn’t keep up—

A new smell hit her nostrils. Not from the fires below, but a sharp scent, like melting plastic . . .

She looked up – and to her alarm saw smoke swirling from the nylon harness as it rasped over the hose. The friction was melting it!

‘Oh no, no!’ she squealed, grabbing the hose and clenching her legs together. She halted, but the smoke didn’t stop. A snap as overstressed strands stretched and broke, then another—

‘Macy!’ Her father’s voice, not far away. ‘Keep going! You’re almost here!’

‘It’s breaking!’ she cried.

‘Wrap your arms around the hose! Keep hold!’

‘I’m scared!’

‘I’ll catch you! Just do it – trust me!’

She reluctantly let go with one hand. Her upper body swung, the harness taking her weight – and there was another terrifying crackle of breaking threads. She screamed, but pulled herself upwards and crossed both arms over the hose to let herself slide onwards.

Even through her clothing, the hose bit painfully at the bends of her elbows. She moaned, but kept her hold. The smaller tower’s mirrored face rushed closer – and swallowed her as she slithered through the window.

Rough hands grabbed her. ‘Got you!’ said Eddie.

She burst into tears. ‘Daddy!’