She stopped and took a breath – it tasted fresher. Pulling up her shoulders, she prepared to shuffle some more.

‘One.’ It was her mother and Nicholas together. ‘Two,’ they chanted, and she laughed out loud in sheer happiness. ‘Three.’ She was there, she had reached the curtain of vegetation.

She kicked out with her feet and it gave way in front of her. She edged slowly around until her back was pressing against the curtain and she fell straight through, out onto the shingly sand. Yelling out loud to give her the energy to push, she heaved herself onto her side and rolled and rolled, ignoring the stones that pierced her skin and the driftwood that jarred her bones and tore at her limbs until she was free of the rocks.

Stopping for a breath, she heard Nicholas calling her name. Lying on her back, looking up towards the sky, almost unable to open her eyes in the light, she heard more than one voice. It was no longer Nicholas.

The shingle vibrated as footsteps came closer and then there was an overwhelming sense of relief as she was scooped up into the arms of a man. Opening her eyes, she could see it was Joe, and not far behind him came her father. She inclined her head towards the cave. ‘My granddaddy…’ she mumbled. ‘He said he was my granddaddy. And the other man, his name is Jay.’

‘Come and get her,’ shouted Joe to the other men running towards them. He set her carefully back down on the beach, took a knife from his back pocket to cut the ropes that bound her, and then pulled her up into a sitting position. ‘Where did you come from?’ he asked as he looked back towards the cliff face.

‘It’s green,’ she said. ‘It’s the grass, it’s grown over the opening.’

Joe stood, shielded his eyes with his hand and scanned the cliff. ‘I can see it – you’ve pulled some away. Is he in there?’

Mary Kate tried to stand but wobbled. Joe reached down and steadied her.

‘I have your other fancy boot,’ he said and, despite the tension, he smiled.

Her father was already at her side and in the distance she saw the others drawing near.

Michael didn’t speak. He tried, but his throat was too thick with unspent tears. The rush of relief was all he could deal with as he pulled her into his arms. ‘My babby,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘My babby.’

Joe looked impatient. ‘Are they armed?’ he asked her.

She pulled herself free from her daddy’s arms. ‘I think only he is. He’s unconscious though, there’s something wrong with his leg. The other man, Jay, he drank a whole bottle of whiskey, he said he was going to sleep until tonight – he’s dead drunk, so he is.’

Joe bent down, picked up the rope he’d cut from Mary Kate’s ankles and turned to the men who had joined him. ‘Pete, Tig, come with me. We have one more job to do. Michael, take Mary Kate back to the post office, Rosie and Nola are there, and then come straight back here in the van. I think we may have a couple of prisoners. And tell Mr Keene it’s time to call the guard.’