The clock downstairs was striking seven when Arya awoke. He lay in bed, sleepily listening to the chimes echo through the house.

He had a vague sense of another sound, something else that had woken him.

He’d slept restlessly, his dreams a jumbled mess. He was being chased by a spaceship that turned into a talking wheelchair, that snapped at him with rusted teeth, while click clack, click clack, scientists in white coats worked away all around him.

There it was again! The sound that had woken him. Fully awake now, Arya sat up, listening intently.

A soft scratching, from inside the old cupboard.

A rustling, and then a click, as if something had slid into place.

Rats? Was it rats? But rats wouldn’t make that clicking sound?

A burst of radio static crackled from the cupboard, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hello?” a muffled voice said anxiously. “Hello? Arya?” Muffled or not, Arya recognised the voice. “Can you hear me? Arya? Are you awake?” Thatha continued, as Arya warily unlatched the cupboard.

After the weird events of yesterday, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find Thatha crouched inside.

He wasn’t, of course.

On the floor of the cupboard, among the mess of clothes and books that Amma had asked Arya twice to organise,...

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