Throwing herself down onto the sofa, Meggy glared at the ceiling. They needed tools to make weapons. Every bed was firmly fixed to the wall, and the cupboards had been stripped of any wood that might have been movable. Her dad would have known what to do. Not that he was a giant in the DIY world, but there had never been a need to pay anyone to do jobs in the house, whether it was basic plumbing, maintenance, or electrics. She wished the lights were on. Half the problem was that she just couldn’t see enough. Above her, two lamps hung from the ceiling, one at each end of the room. Flowery paper lampshades would cast patterned light onto the ceiling when they were lit – when he decided that they’d earned the right to light.

Meggy hated him. It had occurred to her to wonder if she were capable of killing him or not as she was falling asleep the night before. The question took only half a second to answer. She didn’t want to die here. She didn’t want to die anywhere aged twelve, but especially not here, in the dark with the stupid pink clothes and the stupid board games, and the stupid painted windows. If it meant securing her escape, what Meggy Russell knew with absolute certainty was that if she needed to, she wouldn’t have a problem with killing Fergus. Maybe even if she didn’t absolutely have to.

Meggy stood up, staring at the light fitting. The ceiling was uneven. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if the mounting plate was casting a shadow onto the ceiling. Turning her head left then right, she tried to get a better view.

Dragging the armchair inch by inch across the unhelpful carpet, she stood first on the seat, then on the arm. She was still nowhere near the ceiling. Shifting the chair across even further, she fetched the lamp and moved it as far as she could to the centre of the room. There was only one possible option for reaching the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, Meggy climbed onto the back of the chair, arms out straight either side like a tightrope walker.

‘Meggy!’ Elspeth shouted.

The noise made her turn her head, her upper body following suit. One foot slipped down the chair back and the other ankle collapsed outwards. Torso hitting the chair back as she fell, the air gusting from her lungs, she managed to slow her descent to the floor, Elspeth running to catch her too late.

‘Oh my God, are you okay? Did you bang your head?’

‘I’m okay,’ she panted.

‘Can you breathe?’

Meggy nodded rather than trying to speak again. Her lungs felt like someone had punched her from both the front and the back at once. Elspeth slipped an arm around her shoulders and helped her to sit up.

‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’