The taxi drops me at the end of the street, which has a police car parked across it and several officers in face masks preventing people from passing.

As I get closer, one holds up her hand to stop me. “Are you a resident?” she asks.

“N-no. I’m a volun—”

“Residents only, dear. If it’s the park you’re wanting, go round the back and up Clovelly Gardens.”

“No. I don’t need the park. It’s the church. St. Woof’s. I…I work there.” It sounds a bit silly: I know as soon as I say it. Another police officer approaches, a man, and speaks to me through his face mask.

“Listen, love. I don’t care if you’re St. Wulfran ’imself. It’s out of bounds for a reason, government orders. Now—”

“Can I at least speak to the vicar?”

The two of them stare at me, amazed—I think—at my nerve.

“No. You. Can’t,” says the man. “Now scram. This is an emergency.”

I feel fear rising further inside me, and my voice gets higher in tone. “What’s going on?”

“Check the news. Now I don’t want to have to tell you again. Stand aside.”

Behind me, a large van approaches the line of officers. Inside are several people in the same overalls I have seen before, all wearing face masks. The van is waved through, mounting the pavement to get past the police car that blocks the road.

I sit on a low wall and take out my phone to call St. Woof’s. If I speak to the vicar directly, maybe I’ll be able to find out what’s going on.

“This is Reverend Maurice Cleghorn of St. Wulfran’s Dog Shelter. I cannot take your call at the moment…”

I might have guessed.

“Eee, it’s terrible, isn’t it?”

I jump in fright at the voice. Sass Hennessey flicks her hair, sits down heavily next to me on the wall, and says again, “Terrible.”

“What’s happening?” I say. I have a fairly good idea, but I want to know how much Sass knows.

“It’s that Dog Plague thingy, isn’t it? All started here, they reckon. And it’s going to get bad.”

“How do you know?”

“Maurice told me.”

There it is again. Maurice. Now I find I’m past caring. “You spoke to the vicar? How come?”

“I was there when the police and doctors arrived. They cleared us all out. Probably so we wouldn’t see what they were doing.”

I’m staring at Sass. She has a slightly smug look on her face. Like she knows something that I don’t. She sees my puzzled look.

“You really have no clue, do you, Georgie? You do know what’s going on in there, don’t you?”

I can only shake my head dumbly. Is it my imagination or is Sass actually pleased to be telling me this? Perhaps she just enjoys being the one who knows and who can pass on information.

“All of the dogs…” and she draws a finger across her throat. I am horrified.

“They’re cutting their throats?”

“No! You idiot. Of course not. ‘Humane dispatch’ they call it. Putting them down. Euthanasia. Lethal inj—”

“All right, all right, Sass. I get it.” I’m breathing heavily. It’s a few seconds before I can speak. “All of them?”

“Yup.” This is when Sass fixes me with what I take to be a glare. “And all because someone, somewhere, ignored the cross-infection rules. Seems as though someone visited St. Woof’s who was carrying the infection from China, and—”

“I…I’m sorry, Sass. I have to go.” My head is swirling with thoughts, and I feel like throwing up.

I stagger away toward the seafront, and between the cars and the bikes, horns honking, and people yelling “Watch it!” till I’m on the path above the beach, looking down at a group of guys playing soccer, and people walking their dogs.

I’m gasping for breath, the air rasping in my throat as I suck in lungfuls.

Was it me?

I search my memory for the events of that day. The little Chinese girl…Dudley’s soggy ball, which I took out of quarantine…Me handling it…then touching all the other dogs…my carelessness.

My carelessness!

And I think about the dogs in St. Woof’s. Mr. Mash, of course, but also Sally-Ann and Ben and poor, ugly Dudley. Is it my fault?

I wipe a large tear away from my cheek and swallow hard and take a deep breath. One of those “that’s the end of my panic” sighs when you think that it’s all going to be a bit better. And then it hits me.

When I was in the dome, looking down at the beach a week from now. I knew something was different, but I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it.

But now I think I know what it is.