The Showground was still set up for the Show, even though it should have been packed away four days ago. But the Ferris wheels and sideshows, the tractor displays and caravans, the logs for the wood-chop and the trailers selling fast foods, all were still in position. Away to our left was a silent ocean of parked cars, most sitting like dark still animals, a few glinting in the artificial light. Our car would be in among them somewhere. Some cars would have had dogs in them too. I tried not to think about their horrible deaths, like the dogs back at our place. Maybe the soldiers had compassion and had rescued them when the fighting was over. Maybe there would have been time for that.

We watched for eight minutes – I was timing it – before anything happened. Just as Kevin leaned around the trunk and whispered to me, ‘We’ll have to go’, and I nodded, a man came out of one of the tents. He walked out with his hands on his head and stood there. Immediately the sentries came to life, one of them going quickly to the man, the other straightening up and turning to look at him. The sentry and the man talked for a few moments, then the man, still with his hands on his head, walked to the toilet block and disappeared inside. It was only at the last second, as the light above the lavatory door shone on his face, that I recognised him. It was Mr Coles, my Year 4 teacher at Wirrawee Primary.

So, at last we knew. A coldness crept through me. I felt the goose bumps prickle on my skin. This was the new reality of our lives. I got the shakes a bit, but there was no time for that. We had to go. We slid backwards through the grass and began to retrace our tracks, from tree to tree. I remembered from a couple of years ago a big controversy when the Council had wanted to cut these trees down to make a bigger carpark. There’d been such an outcry that they’d had to give up on the idea. I grinned to myself in the darkness, but without humour. Thank God the good guys had won. But no one could ever have imagined how useful those trees were going to be to us.

I got to the last tree and patted its trunk gently. I felt a great affection for it. Corrie was right behind me, then Kevin snuck in. ‘Nearly home free,’ I said, and set off again. I should have touched wood once more before I did. The moment I showed my nose, a clatter of gunfire started up behind me. Bullets zinged past, chopping huge chunks of wood out of a tree to my left. I heard a gasp from Corrie and a cry from Kevin. It was as though I left the ground, with sheer fear. For a moment I lost contact with the earth. It was a strange feeling, like I had ceased to be. Then I was diving at the corner of the road, rolling through the grass and wriggling like an earwig into cover. At once I turned to yell to Kevin and Corrie, but as I did they landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of me.

‘Go like stink,’ Kevin said, pulling me up. ‘They’re coming.’

Somehow, with no air in my lungs, I started to run. For a hundred metres the only sounds I could hear were the rasping of my own lungs and the soft thuds of my feet on the roadway. Although we’d agreed, so logically, to split up if we were chased, I knew now I wasn’t going to do that. At that moment only a bullet could have separated me from those two people. Suddenly they’d become my family.

Kevin was looking back all the time. ‘Let’s get off the road,’ he gasped, just as I was starting to get some wind back. We turned into someone’s driveway. As we did I heard a shout. A burst of bullets chopped through the branches with tremendous force, like a sudden short gale. I realised that it was Mrs Alexander’s driveway we were sprinting along. ‘I know this place,’ I said to the others. ‘Follow me.’ It was not that I had any plan; I just didn’t want to follow someone through the darkness if they didn’t know where they were going. I was still operating on sheer panic. I led them across the tennis court, trying desperately to think. It wasn’t enough just to run. These people were armed, they would be fast, they could summon help easily. The only thing we had going for us was that they couldn’t be sure if we were armed or not. They might even think we were leading them into an ambush. I hoped they’d think that. I wished we were leading them into an ambush.

We got round to the back of the house, where it was darker. It was only then that I realised that while thinking about ambushes I’d actually led Kevin and Corrie into a trap. There was no back fence or back gate, just a row of old buildings. Last century they’d been the servants’ quarters, and a kitchen and laundry. Now they were used as garages, gardening sheds, store rooms. I stopped the other two. I was horrified by how utterly terror-stricken they looked; horrified because I knew I must look the same way. Their teeth and eyes gleamed at me and their uncontrolled panting seemed to fill the night, like a demonic wind. My mind was falling apart. All I could think of was how my arrogance in taking the lead, in being so sure I knew my way, might cost us our lives. I wasn’t yet sure if the others realised how ignorant I’d been. I forced myself to speak, through rattling teeth. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say, and my fury at myself seemed to come out as anger directed at them. I’m not very proud of how I was that night. ‘Shut up! Shut up and listen,’ I said. ‘For Christ’s sake. We’ve got a couple of minutes. This is a big garden. They won’t go rushing around in it, in the darkness. They’ll be a bit unsure of us.’

‘I’ve hurt my leg,’ Corrie moaned.

‘What, you didn’t get shot?’

‘No, I ran into something, just back there.’

It’s a ride-on mower,’ Kevin said. ‘I nearly hit it too.’

A volley of gunfire interrupted us. It was frighteningly loud. We could see the flashes of fire from the guns. As we watched, trembling, we began to recognise their tactics. They were keeping together, moving through the garden, firing into anything that could have concealed a person: a bush, a barbecue pit, a compost heap. They’d probably seen enough of us to have an idea that we were empty handed, but they were still moving cautiously.

I was struggling to get some air, to breathe. At last I was starting to think. But my brain was operating like my lungs, in great gasping bursts. ‘Yes, petrol ... we could roll it ... no, that’d give them time ... but if it sat there ... matches ... and a chisel or something ...’

‘Ellie, what the hell are you on about?’

‘Find some matches, or a cigarette lighter. And a chisel. And a hammer. Quick. Very quick. Try these sheds.’

We spread out, rushing to the dark buildings, Corrie limping. I found myself in a garage. I felt around with my hands, locating the smooth cold lines of a car, then quickly going to its passenger door. The door was unlocked; like most of us who lived around Wirrawee, Mrs Alexander didn’t bother to lock her cars. Everyone trusted people. That was one thing that was going to change forever. When the door opened, the interior light, to my horror, came on. I found the switch and turned it off, then stood there trembling waiting for the bullets to come tearing through the walls of the building. Nothing happened. I opened the glove box, which had its own light, but it was small, and anyway I needed it. And there it was, a blessed box of matches. Thank God Mrs Alexander was a chain smoker. I grabbed the matches, slammed the glove box shut and ran from the garage, forgetting in my excitement that the soldiers could be out there. But they weren’t, just Kevin.

‘Did you get them?’

‘I got the hammer and chisel.’

‘Oh Kevin, I love you.’

‘I heard that,’ came Corrie’s whisper from the darkness.

‘Take me to the ride-on,’ I said.

Before, two people had found it when they didn’t want to. Now, when three of us wanted to find it, none of us could. Two agonising minutes passed. I felt my skin go colder and colder. It was like icy insects were crawling over it. At last I thought, ‘This is hopeless. We’ll have to give up.’