“Dear God!” gasped Jessica.

She and Stuart had left their car parked beside a crowd of ambulances and police cars and walked the rest of the way to Failand refugee camp. The authorities had taken over a group of farm meadows and covered them with tents, caravans, portacabins, whatever they could find that people could use to find shelter from the elements. It seemed there still weren't enough, though, because crowds of people milled around between them, trying to keep warm in the stiff breeze. Fires had been lit here and there, some in braziers, others just piles of anything that would burn while families crowded around them, holding coats and blankets tight around themselves. Paramedics wandered between them, looking for the injured, but most of those in need of medical attention were standing in a queue leading up to the medical tent where staff drafted from the local hospital were waiting to see them. Other queues went to the food tent, a small cluster of portaloos and to a tent where people were simply giving their names and former addresses to bored looking men with tablet computers in the hope that relatives were trying to find them. The air was filled with the crying of babies and the solemn muttering of people trying to keep each other’s spirits up. An atmosphere of hopelessness and despair hung over the whole camp, and yet children were chasing each other, laughing and joking, around the tents, as if they thought they were simply on holiday.

“There must be thousands of people here!” Jessica muttered. “And this is just one camp! How many camps like this are there? Dozens? Hundreds?”

Q “If there are five million displaced people, then about a thousand camps this size,” said Stuart flatly. He sounded uncaring, but Jessica knew him well enough to know he was struggling to keep powerful emotions in check.

“I had no idea it was this bad. How can they possibly care for this many people?”

“They can’t. There's going to be disease, starvation... When they start figuring that out, there’s going to be trouble."

“How do we find Samantha Kumiko among this many people? That's if she's here at all.”

“The registration tent,” said Stuart, pointing. Jessica nodded and they started walking across the long, hummocky grass.

“Back of the queue!” shouted a bearded man angrily as Stuart and Jessica moved past. He left his place on the queue and squared up to Stuart. “No pushing in!”

“We're not here to register,” said Stuart calmly. “We’re looking for someone. A Japanese woman and her six year old daughter. Have you seen her?”

“No,” the bearded man replied, sounding a little mollified. “I hope you find them.” He returned to where a woman had been keeping his place for him, but others in the queue were looking at them with resentment and hostility. They must still have homes, they were thinking. They can leave this place and go back to their comfy living room and have a hot, cooked dinner while watching some stupid quiz show on television. They'll soon forget about us still stuck here, freezing in our tents. Jessica took hold of Stuart's hand, squeezing tightly, and the two of them moved hurriedly on.

Reaching the tent, they waved to attract the attention of one of the people typing names and contact details into tablets. “There’s a queue...” one of them said.

“We're looking for someone,” Stuart interrupted him. He gave Samantha’s name and description, gave her address, and the man looked it up on his tablet. “Nobody's registered by that name,” he said. “Sorry.”

“What about the other camps?” asked Jessica.

“We're still working on networking the information. We've got someone writing an app right now. Come back tomorrow and we should be able to help you.”

“We drove here,” Jessica said to Stuart as they moved away in disappointment. “She's on foot. Maybe she's still on her way.”

“Or maybe she went to the medical tent first,” said Stuart. “Their house burned down. They might be injured.” Jessica nodded and they made their way towards it.

They passed through the centre of the refugee camp to get to it. A fine rain was starting to fall, stinging their faces as it was driven by the wind. Those without tents of their own started begging for shelter. Some were taken in, despite the fact that there was barely enough room for those already inside. Others were denied entry and wandered off in search of someone more sympathetic. “We've got a spare room,” Jessica said to Stuart in a low voice. “We could take someone in.”

“We don’t know anything about these people,” her husband replied. “You're right, we should take someone in, but it should be someone we know. Not some stranger. How about we take in Samantha and her daughter when we find them?”

“What it we don’t find them? Are we going to let a perfectly good room go empty when there are people living like this?”

“This is just temporary. Every large city has thousands of empty buildings. Office blocks, warehouses, factories... It'll take time to convert them for accommodation, that's all. These camps are just places where people can find food and shelter in the meantime.”

“But how long will the meantime be? Look at these people! Look at that old couple over there! Over ninety at least, out in the open and shivering with the cold. They could be cosy and warm in our spare room right now!” Even as she spoke, though, a young woman emerged from a small caravan and beckoned to the elderly couple. They followed her gratefully in. “There's still plenty of others,” Jessica said. “Soon, having an empty room will be as socially unacceptable as drunk driving.”

“I'm sure you’re right, but we have to be careful. If we can't find Samantha Kumiko we’ll talk about it again. In the meantime, let's focus on what we’re here for.”

Most of the people in the medical tent turned out to be parents of children with snuffly noses, and the medical staff were visibly annoyed. One nurse had been detailed to turn such people away so that the doctors could concentrate on those who were genuinely injured or unwell. Armed soldiers were standing guard over the medical supplies and an ambulance was standing by for anyone who needed treatment that only a proper hospital could provide. Stuart and Jessica looked around for anyone who matched Samantha Kumiko's description, then approached a doctor who was tapping away at a tablet. “Excuse me,” Stuart said to him. “We're looking for someone. Have you treated a Japanese woman? About forty years old?”

“We've treated lots of people,” he replied without looking up. “What were her injuries?”

“We don’t know if she's hurt. We just wondered if she'd been here.”

“I haven’t seen her. Sorry.”

They tried a nurse next, in charge of a cooling cabinet containing donated blood, who gave the same reply, but when they tried talking to a doctor who was examining a patient a nurse came up to them and asked them to leave him alone. “We're looking for someone...” Jessica began.

“Try the registration tent,” she replied. “You can't bother the doctors.”

“We’ve just come from there,” said Stuart. “She might have inhaled smoke. Her house burned down.”

“I don't think we've had anyone like that. Almost all our patients are suffering from exposure and shock. Now please go away and let us get on with our work.”

“So,” said Jessica as they left in disappointment. “What do we do now?”

“Just look around,” Stuart replied. “Circulate, talk to people. Ask if anyone's seen her. If we have no luck after an hour or two, we try another camp. She may have gone to Winford or Dundry. She may even have been taken in by friends. Try Neil Arndale again. She may have gotten in touch with him.”

Jessica pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled his number, but a message flashed up on the screen telling her that the network was still overloaded. She showed it to him, and he nodded glumly. “Keep trying,” he told her. “The lines have to clear eventually. She nodded, and Stuart went up to the nearest refugee, a man in his thirties trudging across the hummocky grass. His head was down and he had a hopeless look in his eyes. “Excuse me, Sir. We're looking for someone. I wonder if you can tell us if you've seen her...”

☆☆☆

Samantha had had to carry Lily most of the way as the little girl's legs got too tired to carry her any more, but finally they saw Dundry refugee camp ahead of them and she gave a sigh of relief. “Nearly there,” she said, just loud enough to hear. “Soon we can have a nice sit down in a warm tent. Have something nice to eat.” Lily mumbled something under her breath. She sounded almost asleep.

There were police cars parked alongside the ambulances at the edge of the big field and she considered reporting the attack on herself and Lily, the burning down of her house, but then she saw two policemen trying to break up a fight between half a dozen young men. The two policemen were clearly out of their depth, unable to contain the situation. One of them actually got punched to the ground, and neither of them made any attempt to arrest the perpetrator or call for reinforcements. They couldn't call for help because there was no help to be had, she realised. All the other policemen were tied up in similar situations. Too many people needing help, not nearly enough people to give it. They wouldn't be interested in her problems, she decided. Just keeping order in the camp was as much as they could hope to achieve.

Thousands of tents and caravans, and there were still huge crowds of people just sitting around in the open, shivering in the cold wind. All her hopes of finding a warm tent evaporated, leaving her feeling sick with despair. She'd tried so hard to keep her daughter safe and happy during the time of crisis. She'd thought they were exceptionally fortunate, that they’d be able to ride it out in their own home, safe and well fed. Instead, they were now here, among the most unfortunate and wretched. How low had they fallen that even a tent over their heads would have seemed like a luxury? I've failed my daughter! she thought, tears in her eyes. I'm so sorry, Lily! I tried so hard...

She got hold of herself with an effort. I have to be strong, she told herself. Lily is depending on me. We need food, water and shelter, so let's go find them! She squared herself up and walked forward, into the vast, disorganised throng of humanity.

There were queues, she saw, and she joined one, not knowing what was at the end of it. Something that these people wanted, apparently, and that meant that she wanted it as well. She’d thought that the person at the back of the queue was a woman, because of the long hair, but then the head turned to look at her and her heart froze when she saw that it was a man with an untidy black beard and a self rolled cigarette between his lips. He looked her up and down with eyes that widened with appreciation. He took one hand from a pocket to remove the cigarette from his lips while he blew smoke, then replaced it and took a long drag, the tip glowing red. Samantha’s heart was hammering with fear but she made herself stand firm and ignore him. She looked down at Lily to draw the man's attention to the fact that she had a daughter. That was usually enough to make them lose interest.

Not him, though. “Hi,” he said. He held his cigarette out to her. She shook her head politely. “Name's Dave.”

“Samantha,” replied Samantha, not knowing whether it would be worse to encourage him by engaging with him or possibly anger him by snubbing him. She wondered whether she dared offend him by leaving and looking for another queue to join. Hopefully, if she kept her answers short, the conversation would just peter out. Her thighs chose that moment to ache, reminding her of the violation she’d suffered such a short time before. Her body felt like a house whose front door had been kicked open by burglars and who had left it open after they'd left, so that now anyone who wanted could just walk in any time they wanted. This man's apparent sexual interest in her terrified her.

“Bit like Glastonbury, ain’t it?” said Dave, waving his hand to indicate the refugee camp. “Keep expecting the music to start. Got the best blow job I ever had at Glastonbury a few years back. I’m here with my mates, Kev and Briny. You with anyone?”

She shook her head, wishing he'd just turn to face forward in the queue and forget about her.

“Where's the little one's daddy?”

“He's not with us.”

“He joining you later?”

“No. It’s just me and my daughter.”

He studied her again. “Where you staying? You got a place yet?”

Why are you asking me these questions? she asked herself, although she could make a pretty good guess. She knew she was still good looking for her age, and now he knew she was alone, without a man to protect her. I should have just kept my mouth shut, she chided herself, but answering questions was just polite, and polite behaviour had been drilled into her so deeply, all her life, that it was an impossible habit to break, no matter what the circumstances.

Dave took her silence as an answer. “We got a tent of our own. We got room for one more if you need a place.”

Samantha opened her mouth to say they were fine, but stopped herself. Could she afford to turn down an offer like that? She would hate it, she would be in constant terror, but she had to think of Lily. If the only way to find shelter was to share a tent with three strange men... No, she told herself firmly. She'd find someone else to share with. A nice family. A married man and a nice wife who’d make her feel safe. Maybe even a child or two that Lily could play with. Then she looked around at the camp again, though. So many people standing or sitting in the open, their coats held tightly closed in an attempt to keep out the cold. If people willing to share were common, why were there so many unable to find them? I've failed her once already, she told herself firmly. I can't fail her again. She had to swallow her pride, conquer her fear, and do what was best for her daughter. “Thank you,” she said therefore. “That's very kind of you.”

He smiled, showing yellow teeth stained with nicotine. “So, who's the kid?”

“Lily. My daughter.” Lily, hearing her name, opened her eyes and squirmed around to look at Dave. She was getting a bit heavy so Samantha put her down. “So, what's this queue for?”

“You don't know?”

“No. I thought, if I’m going to be just standing around anyway, I might as well be standing in a queue. There’s bound to be something useful at the end of it.”

“It's the registration queue. We give ‘em our names and addresses in case there’s people looking for us. I'm here so we can get our dole money.”

“You have to pay for food here?” asked Samantha in sudden fear. “I haven't got any money! I lost all my cards!”

“Food's free,” Dave replied, grinning again. “Other stuff ain’t. You see that guy over there?” He nodded towards a man wearing a trench coat talking to two teenage boys. “That's our dealer. Oh, don’t worry!” he said, seeing the look of shock on Samantha's face. “We won't smoke it in the tent. Not where your little kid can see. We'll go outside. I'll make sure the others understand.”

“That's very considerate,” said Samantha drily. “Are there any bank terminals around here? I just need to get in touch with a bank and I can get a new card. Then I can buy whatever I need. Food, a phone, a car...” She stared around at the tents and the milling crowds of people as if a terminal might have sprung up out of the ground.

“Got money then, have you? Lots of people here have got money. Doesn't do ‘em any good, though. Anything you want to buy, someone's bought it already.”

“That sounds about right.” She was hungry, she realised, and if she was, then Lily must be as well. She swung the knapsack off her back and rooted around in it until she found the tin of biscuits. “Have some of these,” she said, opening it and offering it to her daughter. “We'll find some proper food later.” Lily selected a bourbon cream and nibbled it unenthusiastically. Samantha picked out half a dozen more and stuffed them in the pocket of the little girl’s coat. She then offered the tin to Dave, but he shook his head. “Reckon you need that for you and your kid,” he said. “I'm not taking food from a kid.” Samantha smiled, and was surprised to find herself warming to him. Maybe he's not so bad, she thought, closing the tin and putting it back. Maybe I could have done worse.

Dave looked up at the moon, looming huge overhead. A widening crescent, rimmed with fire, as the sun gradually moved away from it. “Ain’t that something,” he said. “Who'd have thought I'd live to see something like that.”

“I could have done without seeing it,” said Samantha.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. They say there was a tsunami on the east coast.”

“A what?”

“Yeah, a tsunami! The whole eastern half of England washed away like sandcastles! They say it's worse in Japan, though. They had three tsunamis over there. Briny’s got a radio and they were saying it on the news. And a whole bunch of Japanese volcanoes erupted, all at the same time! There's not much left of the country they say, so I suppose we got off lucky over here.”

“Always important to keep a sense of perspective,” said Samantha. “No matter how badly off you are, there’s always someone who's worse.”

“Right. At least we don't have volcanoes in this country. But then, they also said we don't get earthquakes in this country, and you know what happened in Scotland. Right?”

Do I want to know? Samantha asked herself. I don't want to know. Too many disasters, she decided. Disaster piled on disaster, and her own personal disasters to cope with as well. She couldn’t handle any more. Change the subject, quick.

“So, did you use to live around here?” God! she thought. What a stupid question to ask! What was I thinking?

Dave didn't seem to think it was a stupid question, though. Indeed, he seemed to give it some careful thought while he took one last, long drag on his cigarette before dropping the stub and grinding it under his heel. “Claverham,” he said. “Worked in a sausage factory for a while, God, but that was bad! You ever see what goes into a sausage? Almost turned me vegetarian, it did.”

The man chatted away about his former life in Claverham while Samantha barely listened, just nodding in the right places. The queue slowly moved forward and more people joined it behind them. It took nearly two hours for them to reach the tent, by which time Samantha thoughts she would probably have known Dave better then his own mother if she’d been paying attention. Suddenly, though, Dave was standing in front of the man with the tablet computer, who was asking for his name. “Dave Champion,” he replied. “Two two one Blueberry Drive, Claverham. CL three, five GH. My phone number is oh oh three three four, two nine nine eight nine oh seven.” He waited while the man typed it in. “I’m with two mates. Kev Warner and Brian Deepwater. I've got their addresses and phone numbers. Former addresses, I mean.” He searched around in his pockets until he found a scrap of paper. “Here we are...”

Samantha waited while he gave the addresses and post codes of his two friends. “So, where do we pick up our dole money?” he then asked.

“I expect it'll be sent to your bank account, as usual,” the man replied. “As soon as the financial system gets sorted out.”

“I was hoping for cash. You see a cash machine around here? What good’s a bank account here, mate?”

“I'm sorry, I can't help you. Move along, please.”

“Bloody useless piece of shite!” Dave glared at the man, then moved away. Samantha was relieved to see him stop a short distance away, though, and wait for her.

The man with the tablet looked up at her and Samantha gave her name and address. “Is there a phone I can use somewhere?” she asked. “I need to call someone.”

“Phone lines are still clogged up,” the man replied. “Internet's the same. Just keep trying, maybe you'll get lucky.”

“I don't have a phone. That's why I was hoping to borrow one.”

He stared up at her. These days, not having a phone was like not having shoes. “I'm sorry,” he said, then beckoned the next person forward.

“Do you have any way of communicating with people?” she pressed. “A radio? Something like that. I need to contact Neil Arndale of Bristol University.”

“I'm sorry,” the man repeated. “I'm sure the phone lines will clear soon, and someone will let you borrow their phone. Please move along now.”

Samantha moved away in defeat, and Dave moved over to join her. “Your husband?” he asked.

“Just a work colleague. I was hoping he could help me out.”

“I've got a phone. I'll keep checking, see if the lines clear. If they do, you can call him on it.”

“Thank you. You're very kind.”

“Got to be, haven't you? Times like these. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others. We've got some food as well. Just cold pork pies and crisps, but it'll fill you up, you and the little one. Everything looks better on a full belly.”

Samantha would have felt more grateful towards him if she hadn't known what he would be wanting in return. She wouldn't be able to refuse him, she knew. They needed a place to sleep, somewhere with a roof over their heads, even if it was only a tent. Her biggest concern was where Lily would be when it happened. She knew she wouldn't trust strangers to look after her. That meant keeping her close by, in the tent, while Dave was having his way with her. Was it possible he wouldn’t want to sleep with her? Was she misjudging him? Maybe her recent ordeal was colouring her opinions of all men, everywhere. She would just have to wait and see.

They joined the queue for the portaloos first and spent another two hours waiting to answer their calls of nature. Some people didn't bother queuing, and she gently turned Lily's head when she saw a man squatting behind a large portacabin. Dave looked as though he might have been tempted to do the same, but the presence of a female associate deterred him and he waited in visibly growing discomfort until they reached the head of the queue. Once they got there, though, the stench coming from the cubicles almost made her throw up. There was human waste smeared everywhere and puddles of urine on the floor. Samantha took Lily inside and closed the door behind them. “Just close your eyes, Baby,” she said as she helped her out of her clothes.

“I can't close my nose!” The little girl complained.

They did what they had to do as quickly as possible, then left to find Dave still waiting for them. “They say you can judge a society by the state of their toilets,” he said. “This place says nothing good about England.”

Samantha agreed. It was beginning to grow dark. She looked up and saw the huge, bloated moon still high in the sky, now half full as the sun dropped towards the horizon. On the dark side, she could see tiny pinpoints of red. Magma geysers bursting through the remaining solid crust. If the Earth was being tormented by the moon's gravity, she could only imagine what the Earth’s gravity was doing to the moon during the close approach. She shuddered and looked away.

She felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter as Dave led them to his tent. She guessed which one it was while it was still fifty yards away from the two men, about Dave's age, lounging around outside it, one with five days growth of stubble and a ponytail, the other thin as a rake and nearly two metres tall. Sure enough they greeted him with ribald comments as they drew close, and then, to Samantha's astonishment, the stubby one put his arms around Dave’s neck and gave him a passionate kiss on the mouth.

“Dave boy!” said the other as soon as the stubbly man released him. “Been missing you! Problem, mate?”

“Just very long queues,” Dave replied, giving him a quick peck on the mouth. “Sam, this is Kev, and the beanpole's Briny. Boys, meet Samantha and Lily. I said they could crash with us, they've got nowhere else to go. That okay?”

“Sure!” said Kevin. “Welcome to the nuthouse, Sam. Hope you don't mind shacking up with three gayboys. Some people still have a problem with that, apparently.”

“Not Sam,” said Dave confidently. “That right, Sam?”

“Not at all!” cried Samantha, almost laughing and crying at the same time with relief. “Thank you so much, boys! Thank you so much!” She put her arms around all three of them at once and gave them a hug and they hugged her back while Lily stared happily up at them, grinning all over her face.