Chiu looks furious but he doesn’t say anything.

“Is that where you’re going then?” Jonah asks. “To find a machine?”

“We’re going to find my family,” Farah says. “In Islington.”

Jonah nods slowly. He doesn’t believe her.

He throws his head back and drains his glass, then slaps his hands on to his knees and stands with sudden decisiveness. “Well, no rest for the wicked,” he says. He catches my eye, as if we’re sharing a secret. A warning, I think, not to tell them about what nearly happened upstairs. “Levi, Tongue, you’re with me. Ose, stick around and keep our new friends company, will you?”

He gives Tongue and Levi a nod and they follow him out, leaving us alone with Ose. Ose watches them, his face inscrutable.

“Where are they going?” Farah asks.

“They’re searching,” Ose says.

“Searching for what?”

Ose shrugs lazily. “Anything we can make use of. Anyone passing through.”

Farah stands slowly. She flashes me a play-along look. “Well,” she says. “We’d better be leaving as well, I guess. I was visiting my friends when I passed out. We have a long way to go to get to my family’s house.”

“Why are you going to your family’s house?” Ose says. “They are not in this world.”

“No, I…” Farah falters. “I want to see the place, that’s all. It’s home.”

Farah glances at me and Chiu and we stand. Ose holds his ground, blocking the way between us and the door. There’s a deep, deep sadness in him, a ponderous despondency.

“It’s better that you stay here,” he says.

“I don’t think so,” Farah replies, her voice hardening.

“Better to stay,” Ose insists.

Farah looks at me. For a moment I’m scared she’s going to rush him. She doesn’t know what happened with Jonah, she doesn’t know how dangerous these people are. I give a slight shake of my head and we share a moment of silent debate. She glances at Ose, sizing him up. He looks like a marathon runner who chops down trees for a hobby. Her mouth pinches in frustration and she sits.

We wait in tense silence. Ose doesn’t want to chat in the way Jonah did and that, at least, is a relief. But the air is thick and melancholy, the grey sky and manicured lawns beyond the window wait pensively. When Ose wanders over to the bookcase on the far side of the room and starts perusing the small collection of antique-looking books there, Farah shifts over quickly and sits next to me. Chiu leans forward to join in.

“We need to get out of here,” Farah hisses.

“We should wait,” I whisper.

“There’s only one of them now. We’ll never get a better chance,” Farah says.

“She’s right,” Chiu agrees.

I’m sure Ose is listening to us. The way he pulls a book from the shelf is too casual. But I don’t suppose there’s any use pointing that out to Farah. I think about her truculent departures from French lessons and hope she doesn’t try that here. I lean closer, speaking as quietly as possible in the hope that Ose can’t hear.

“You don’t understand,” I whisper. “Tonight. That’s our best chance.”

The sky has turned to the hopeless grey of an electricity pylon when Jonah and the others return in high spirits. Jonah’s movements are sharp, filled with unexpended energy. “A good day,” he announces. “A very good day indeed.”

“What makes it a good day?” Farah asks.

“Those that end up here sometimes need our help,” Jonah says. “I perform a public service. I find them, I help them.”

“Help them how?” Farah says.

Jonah gives an off-hand shrug. “It depends.”

“Did you find anyone?” I ask.

“Tongue,” Tongue says, his voice edged with an inscrutable bitterness.

Jonah lifts his hands as if to show us they’re empty. “Does it look like we found anyone?” He goes behind the bar again and takes down a fresh bottle of Scotch and fills his glass. He takes a swig, gags and spits on to the floor behind the bar.

“We need to be getting on,” Farah says. “There’s somewhere we got to be.”

“Oh?” Jonah feigns innocent interest. “The machine?”

“My family.”

“Of course.” Jonah nods, as if the memory is coming back to him. “Well you don’t want to be out walking at night,” he says. “This world might feel quiet, but … it’s worse at night.” He glances at the others. “You should come back with us. We know a safe place.”

“We’re fine,” Farah says. “We’re safe here.”

I brace myself for a confrontation. Violence watches us. I’m scared Farah is going to do something rash. We’re playing a game, I think. But we all know the pretence could slip at any moment.

Jonah smiles wolfishly. “Come on. I want to show you something cool.”

Farah starts to shake her head, but I interrupt.

“Sure,” I say.

“Smart lad,” Jonah replies.

We follow him and the others back out through reception to the front of the hotel. Four motorbikes are parked on the gravel, gleaming and slick looking. They look out of place, like their colours and lines are sharper and more real than everything else around them. The evening sky has leached the colour from the building and the gardens but the sleek red and blue bikes still shine like its midday.

“Do they work?” I ask, baffled by the unexpected sight.

“Work?” Jonah laughs. “They go like the bloody clappers!”

“How?” I say.

“Tongue!” Tongue says. He jabs his chest enthusiastically. “Tongue!”

Ose puts a hand on his shoulder. “What he’s trying to tell you is ideas and things are closer to each other in this world. Technical things only work if you have the knowledge to make them work.”

Tongue nods vigorously. “Tongue!”