As the girls sprinted towards the smoke, it became apparent that it was coming from a building in the high street. Being late Sunday afternoon, the road was all but deserted with just one lonely car parked outside Herman and Marta Munz’s general store.

‘It’s Fattoush!’ Millie yelled.

Flames shot out from under the restaurant awning and thick grey gusts billowed in an endless, rolling wave.

‘Has anyone got a phone?’ Alice-Miranda puffed, and was answered with a cacophony of noes.

‘I’ll go to the Munzes’ to call the brigade,’ Jacinta said, and raced away.

‘Don’t the Abbouds live upstairs?’ Sloane said.

‘Yes, they do.’ Alice-Miranda looked up at the second storey and that’s when the true horror of the situation hit her. Pressed against the window was a child’s face. Her tiny hands were banging on the glass and she was screaming. ‘Oh no, one of the little girls is inside!’

A narrow alleyway separated the building from the hairdressing salon next door. On the other side, the shop was attached to the bakery. If the brigade didn’t get there soon, the entire street could go up. Alice-Miranda used her jacket to cover her mouth and nose, then tore through the thick haze to the back of the building, hoping there was a way to get to the second floor. Chessie, Millie and Sloane followed, shielding their faces too.

Millie pointed to a small balcony accessed by a staircase leading from the garden. ‘Up there!’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for the brigade?’ Chessie shouted.

‘There’s no time.’ Alice-Miranda scampered up the stairs and used her jacket to grab the doorhandle. It wasn’t hot but it was locked.

Millie picked up a flowerpot and hurled it at the adjacent window, shattering the glass, then carefully reached inside and unlatched the door. The air was black and choking, but with their jackets providing makeshift filters, Alice-Miranda and Millie plunged into the haze. Outside, Chessie grabbed a hose and turned the tap as far as it would go. With Sloane’s help, the pair sprayed the flames that were escaping from the restaurant and licking at the back of the building. But it was a losing battle. Despite their best attempts, the fire was intensifying.

Meanwhile, inside the flat, Millie and Alice-Miranda charged through from the small kitchen and into the living room, where they found the little girl slumped on the floor by the window. She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. Millie scooped her up and retraced her steps to the landing, where she passed the girl to Sloane and Chessie.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Around the front of the shop, a crowd had begun to gather. Jacinta searched the group for her friends, her stomach in knots. The fire truck roared into the street and pulled up with a whoosh of air brakes. As the crew of six leapt out and rapidly set to work, Jacinta jiggled on the spot. After a few more seconds, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She dashed into the wall of smoke and down the alley.

‘Stop!’ one of the firemen yelled, but she was already gone.

She rounded the corner into the back garden and found Chessie bent over a tiny girl, who was coughing and sputtering. ‘Where are the others?’ Jacinta asked. Her eyes widened when Chessie pointed to the flat.

Jacinta met Millie and Sloane at the door. They were supporting a woman who was sobbing while cradling a bigger child in her arms. She let out a cry of relief when she saw another of her daughters was with Chessie.

Two firemen wearing breathing apparatus with oxygen tanks strapped to their backs ran to her.

‘Is everyone out?’ the tallest of the officers yelled.

The woman shook her head. ‘My husband is downstairs and my babies are sleeping in the attic,’ she said, her voice shaking with fear. ‘My oldest … I do not know where she is.’

Another two firemen raced into the garden, pulling a long hose behind them.

‘Cover us,’ the taller officer ordered as he used an axe to break down the back door of the restaurant. Tendrils of fire shot out like a dragon’s tongue, but the other men held tight to the hose and released a torrent of water at the flames. It wasn’t long before the firemen emerged with Mr Abboud. They laid him down on the small patch of lawn just as Constable Derby arrived on the scene.

‘I’ll take it from here,’ the constable said, and used the radio on his vest to find out how far away the ambulance was. He was surprised to see Sloane, Chessie and Millie there with the Abboud children and their mother. ‘Is anyone still inside?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ Millie said frantically. ‘Alice-Miranda’s up in the attic with Jacinta.’

‘Good heavens,’ the man rasped.

Two paramedics ran up from the rear lane.

‘Over here!’ Constable Derby shouted. ‘It’s Mr Abboud. He’s breathing but it’s shallow and he’s suffered burns.’

The paramedics quickly realised they needed back-up. One called for help while the other tended to Mr Abboud, who had slipped into unconsciousness. By now half the village was standing on the other side of the building, in the high street, watching the events unfold.

Myrtle Parker was beside her husband, clutching his arm. ‘I hope they got them all out. You know they have five children including the babies. Mrs Abboud has been pregnant for years.’

‘The brigade’s doing everything they can, dear,’ Reg said, patting his wife’s hand. Alerted to the unfolding drama by the Parkers, Ambrosia Headlington-Bear had hurried down to the high street and was standing beside her elderly neighbours, staring helplessly at the scene.

Herman Munz was there too, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘If it vosn’t for the children, the place vould have burned to the ground before ve knew it.’

‘What children?’ Myrtle turned to look at the man. ‘You mean the Abbouds?’

‘No, Jacinta and her friends,’ he said.

Ambrosia’s face drained of colour. ‘But the girls are at school,’ she said. ‘They left Rosebud Cottage half an hour ago.’

Herman slowly shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ambrosia, they are at the restaurant. I saw Jacinta run down the lane vith my own eyes. The fireman vos yelling for her to come back but she did not stop.’

‘Dear God in heaven.’ Myrtle’s legs folded from the shock of it all. Reg only just managed to keep the woman upright.

‘Look!’ someone yelled. A face momentarily appeared at the attic window, causing a collective gasp from the crowd.

‘Alice-Miranda, you get yourself out of there!’ Myrtle Parker screamed.

‘Alice-Miranda, where are you?’ Jacinta cried out, then coughed fitfully. The air was hot and thick and scratched at her throat.

‘Up here,’ Alice-Miranda called. She felt her way through the gloom until her hands found the timber slats of a cot. She passed Jacinta the first infant, relieved to find the baby squirming and objecting loudly to being disturbed.

‘There, there,’ Jacinta cooed between sputters.

‘Go!’ Alice-Miranda ordered. She picked up the other child and pressed its face against her own. It was cold. For a second Alice-Miranda feared the worst until the child let out a startling scream. ‘Oh, thank goodness! Cry as loudly as you like, little one,’ she said. Holding the baby as tightly as she dared, Alice-Miranda scrambled down the stairs after Jacinta. They were met by Constable Derby and another officer who had arrived from Downsfordvale.

Not a minute later, the girls and babies were being checked by a second team of paramedics. Apart from looking like they’d been through a war zone, Alice-Miranda and her friends appeared to be fine. The Abboud children, on the other hand, would need to go to hospital for a thorough check-up and monitoring.

Their mother was hovering over the twins when she realised that her eldest daughter wasn’t with them. ‘Zahra!’ the woman screamed, turning circles in the yard. ‘Where is she?’

Flames shot up from the restaurant and had forced their way inside the flat. The curtains in the kitchen window were now well alight.

‘Oh no.’ Alice-Miranda raced over to one of the firemen. She shouted above the hissing and crackling to tell him that there was another child still missing.

‘Are you sure she’s in there?’ the fireman called to Mrs Abboud.

‘Of course!’ But the woman wasn’t certain at all. She had put the twins in their cot and gone downstairs to fold a mountain of washing. She remembered sitting on the edge of her bed and feeling overwhelmed with tiredness. She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew she was choking in a room full of smoke and her six-year-old, Esma, was tugging on her sleeve. The last time she’d seen her eldest daughter she’d been in the sitting room playing with Hatice. ‘Hatice, where is Zahra?’ she asked, but the child simply shrugged and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. Ada Abboud’s eyes darted around the yard and back to the house. ‘Please, you must find her!’ she wailed.

The firemen pulled down their masks and charged up the stairs again. Alice-Miranda and her friends looked at the house expectantly. Chessie held her breath while Sloane whispered the only prayer she knew. All eyes were glued to the building. It seemed an age before the firemen reappeared, empty-handed.

‘Zahra!’ Mrs Abboud screamed, collapsing to the ground.

‘She can’t be in there,’ Millie mumbled as fat tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away, leaving a smear of black.

There was an almighty roar as the roof caved in. The five girls huddled together, unable to tear their eyes away from the devastation.

The Abbouds had moved to the village and opened their restaurant around the same time Alice-Miranda had started school. At first people were wary. Myrtle Parker had been spotted several times with her nose against the glass, trying to peek between the pasted-up newspapers on the front windows. Two weeks later, a sign had gone up announcing the arrival of Fattoush, a Lebanese-Syrian restaurant with a modern flair. Fortunately, curiosity prevailed and it didn’t take long for word to spread about Mr Abboud’s delicious cooking.

The interior decor was like nothing the village had seen, with a huge mural of the ancient ruins of Palmyra on three walls and faux stone columns dotted throughout. While the food was far more exotic than most of the locals were used to, Fattoush soon became a favourite for all occasions. It was a true family affair with Mehmet in the kitchen while Ada and Zahra worked the floor with a staff of four.

‘No one could survive that,’ Sloane whispered.

The first ambulance sped off with Mr Abboud inside, its sirens blaring. Paramedics had loaded the twins and the two younger girls in the back of the second ambulance with Mrs Abboud, who was now sedated. There was nothing more to be done. If Zahra was inside, the operation had tragically gone from a rescue mission to one of recovery.

Constable Derby took a deep breath. He stared at the smouldering building. It was a miracle that the firemen had been able to contain the blaze, but it was hard to comprehend the family’s loss. ‘We need to get you back to school,’ he said to the girls. ‘Everyone will be worried sick.’

‘But what about Zahra?’ Chessie asked.

The man shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

In her short life, Alice-Miranda had experienced quite a deal of drama and many adventures, but this was something so awful she couldn’t believe it was true. Alice-Miranda had met Zahra a number of times when her parents had come to visit and taken her to eat at Fattoush. It was hard to imagine that, in the blink of an eye, the girl was gone.

Alice-Miranda clutched Millie’s hand as they followed Constable Derby down the alley to the high street, where they were met by a rousing cheer. Ambrosia flew out of the crowd and enveloped her daughter. Myrtle Parker just about suffocated Alice-Miranda against her chest. Chessie burst into tears, as did Jacinta and Sloane. Alice-Miranda stared at the mass of blurred figures. It was as if the world was moving in slow motion … until she spotted Zahra Abboud, walking around the corner as if it was any other Sunday.

Alice-Miranda ran as fast as her jelly legs could carry her. ‘Zahra!’

The crowd gasped and turned to see Alice-Miranda grab the girl with both hands.

‘What’s happened?’ Terror and confusion clouded Zahra’s face. Her bottom lip trembled as she took in the charred remains of her home. ‘Mama, Papa?’ she screamed, trying to get away.

But Alice-Miranda held on to her tightly. ‘They’re alive – and your sisters and brother too. They’ve gone to the hospital in Downsfordvale.’

Tears sprang to Zahra’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been … It’s my fault. I should have been watching the girls.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ Alice-Miranda said gently. ‘Thank heavens you weren’t home.’ She gave Zahra one final hug before the police officer guided the girl across the road and into a car.

The street was quiet save for the hissing and crackling of the doused fire. It was Mr Munz who broke the silence. He began to clap and was soon joined by the rest of the village.

A single tear ran down Jacinta’s left cheek. ‘Well, that was a good surprise.’

‘Absolutely,’ Millie said. ‘What a relief.’

But Alice-Miranda couldn’t help wondering where Zahra had been. Her mother had seemed so certain she had been inside. The tiny girl shook the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter – the important thing was that Zahra was alive.