What were they going to do?

Think.

The sun rose higher, pushing through the bars and creating stripes on the drab floor as it burst thought the pastel colours, painting the sky a cornflower blue. The clown on the back of the door grinned.

‘I fucking hate clowns,’ Carly muttered.

‘You said the “F” word,’ Leah whispered.

‘I fucking hate him too,’ Marie said.

‘I didn’t know you were both awake.’ Carly was mortified. She already thought she’d be blamed for getting them into this mess. If the twins started swearing at eight years old she’d be in even more trouble. She rose to her feet. Stalked around the room again and again. Ten paces long, turn. Six paces wide, turn.

Think.

Panic clutched at Carly as she inhaled the stifling air. They couldn’t stay in here another day. Another night.

Ten paces, turn. Six paces, turn.

Let-us-out. Let-us-out. Let-us-out.

The words were inside Carly’s head, inside her mouth, inside the room.

‘Let us out. Let us out. Let us out,’ she yelled as she pelted towards the door. All three sisters began thumping to be free again. Screaming. Fists pounding against the clown’s face. His nose. His mouth. His eyes.

It didn’t take long before they tired. Weak from lack of food. From the surges of adrenaline that rushed through their veins before ebbing away.

‘My tummy hurts.’ Leah slunk back to the mattress.

‘Mine too,’ Marie joined her twin.

‘It’s because we’re hungry.’ Carly dully made her way over to the box. Snaps and Coke for breakfast. They were running low on food. Surely the men would come back today. The thought was terrifying and reassuring in equal measure. She was sure they’d find out why they had been snatched but did she really want to know? There was a cruelty to Moustache she could sense. He was like Stephen at school who bullied the younger kids, stealing their lunch and their branded sports kit. Punching them in the stomach for fun. Stephen’s friends hung around him because they were intimidated. Was that why Doc was with Moustache? She thought he had a gentle side. The softness of the blanket, the teddy bear with his fluffy coat and rounded tummy, which made him ‘totally cuddleable’, according to Leah.

If Doc came on his own they might have a chance. She could, perhaps, talk him into letting them go. Carly had watched her mum persuade Dad to do things he didn’t want to do with the right words, a smile. You twist me round your little finger, he would say. Could she do that to Doc?

If he comes without Moustache.

If.

If.

If.

In the meantime, Carly scanned the room again; they were stuck. Trapped. Again, panic swooped low, clutching Carly around the throat. There wasn’t enough air in the room. She had to get them out. Her feet tingled as she clumped around the room. Examining every single millimetre of the wall for the umpteenth time. Running her hands over the cold, slimy surface, feeling for something under the graffiti. A hidden exit. A loose brick.