And… another man, standing at the back of the stairwell, beneath the wall light. She didn’t recognize him.

‘If we move things, we may cause more of it to collapse!’ said Mrs Kumar.

Sal’s mother placed a hand on her husband. ‘She is right, Hari.’

Hari Vikram turned to look at them all. ‘Some of you are old enough to remember, yes? Remember what happened to the Americans in New York? Their twin towers?’

Sal remembered the footage, something they’d been shown in history class. Both of those tall, magnificent buildings sliding down into the earth and disappearing among billowing dark grey clouds.

Heads nodded. Everyone old enough remembered, but none of them stepped forward. As if to press the issue, a metal spar above creaked and slid, releasing a small avalanche of dust and debris down on to them.

‘If we just wait here… we die!’ shouted her father.

‘They will come!’ replied Mr Joshipura. ‘The firemen will soon — ’

‘No. I’m afraid they won’t.’ She turned towards the voice. The old man she hadn’t recognized had finally said something. ‘I’m afraid they won’t come for you,’ he repeated, his voice softer this time. He sounded like a westerner, English or American. And, unlike everyone else, he wasn’t coated in dust. ‘They won’t have time. This building has less than three minutes before the support struts on the floor beneath us give way. Combined with the weight of the collapsed floors above, it’ll be enough for Palace Tower to go all the way down.’

He looked around at them, the wide eyes of the adults, the wider eyes of the children. ‘I’m truly sorry, but none of you are going to survive.’

The heat in the stairwell was increasing. A floor below, the flames had taken a firm hold, their heat softening the steel girders of the skyscraper. Deep groans rippled and echoed around them.