While Tom returns the dinner to the oven, I pull out a chair. Even though I haven’t seen anything in the shadows, I prefer to keep my back to the dresser so that I can watch the room. I shove the books to one side to make space for some plates, and Tom appears with a cake. Instead of cutting it into slices, he’s buried a carving knife in its middle, the handle sticking up to the ceiling.

He lowers it before me and it lands on the table with a hefty thud. I survey its crusted black top and he steps back and flicks his fringe from his eyes, his face full of hopeful apprehension. I wish I could say he reminds me of a MasterChef contestant, but it’s more like he’s brought down a wild beast and is presenting it to the village chief as a sacrificial offering. He coughs and I realise I’m meant to say something.

‘Wow.’

He grins, seemingly pleased by my response, and I’m relieved I’m not expected to say anything else. While he turns back to the oven, I lean to one side and cautiously peer at the monstrosity, not wanting to think about how many ingredients he’s used to make it. There might be enough food and gas to run the stove and heat the water for now, but my mum probably only has enough supplies for one person to last the winter. Being stuck here for months isn’t something I want to contemplate, but I don’t know how long it will be until the boatman returns, or what will happen when he does. We should start rationing.

Tom sits opposite me and asks, ‘I wonder how they’re getting on without us.’

I frown, distracted from mentally stock-taking the cupboards. ‘Who?’

‘It’s getting dark,’ he explains. ‘I was thinking we’d probably be leaving work about now. I wonder how they’re coping without us.’

I couldn’t care less about Mr Neeson or how he’s doing. Maybe we should make a list of the food we have left. We need to eat the fresh produce first and save the dried stuff and tins for last. If things get desperate, we may need to eat the cake.

Why doesn’t she answer me? Can’t she see I need to talk? It’s my own fault; I shouldn’t have spent so much time reading about demons. I need to think about something else. Something that doesn’t involve my imminent death, or I’m going to lose my sh—

‘Tom?’

‘Yeah?’