We didn’t notice, thanks to the fact it’s piled so high, but on the other side of the mound of rubble is a door. It’s standing partly ajar. Liam pulls his switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. I stick to his back like glue as we clamber as noiselessly as possible over the detritus and plaster and towards the door. The whole time I’m wondering what we’re doing. Why aren’t we getting the hell out of here? Why are we walking towards danger? But I suppose Liam doesn’t see it that way. He’s a man after all. Men aren’t accustomed to feeling fear in the way most women do, almost all the time, learning from a young age to never walk down a dark street alone and to always look over their shoulder.

I step on a loose stone, causing a mini landslide of dirt, and the banging stops abruptly. We hold our breath, both of us frozen. Liam brings the knife up, holding it like a dagger, and we stare at the door, half-expecting it to fly open and someone to come roaring out in attack mode.

We stay there, unmoving for half a minute, maybe longer, but nothing happens. Finally the banging starts up again, this time sounding even more manic. Perhaps whoever it is knows they’re cornered and they’re trying to smash their way out of the room.

Out of nowhere, Liam rushes towards the door, throwing it back with his shoulder and bursting into the room with a yell. I glance past him.

There’s no one there. It’s empty. But then I notice a bird – a crow, black and ugly, slamming itself into the wooden panelling along the bottom half of the wall as it flaps furiously and tries to take flight. The reason for its failure to escape the room through the hole in the roof is immediately obvious: its wing is broken, the feathers sleek on the bird’s good side, and scruffy and ruffled on the other.

I let out a gasp and hurry towards it as it hops pitifully. I can see how terrified and exhausted it is. It must have fallen through the roof and been trapped in here. I wonder for how long? The crow caws in terror when I move towards it and skips away, its one good wing flapping desperately. I wrestle off my coat and step slowly forwards, backing the bird into a corner.

‘What are you doing?’ Liam asks me.

‘I’m rescuing it,’ I say, without looking in his direction.