When I woke up I found myself alone. I found a bowl of water, facecloth, towel and fresh clothes waiting for me.

After making sure the door had been shut firmly, I tore off the horrible dead man's outfit, the one I'd had to put up with for far too long, and washed in the cold water.

I held the new clothes up to the fading daylight, assessing them for suitability. Oh, who was I kidding? Anything would be better than what I had on before. I'd been given a long, denim coloured shirt, which could pass as a dress, and a pair of black leggings, trainers and underwear. At last.

Once I had dressed, I pulled out a piece of cord from under the mattress and wrapped it around my waist as a makeshift belt. It created an illusion of shape to my loose outfit. It smelt so good. Soap and sunshine. Wonderful.

I breathed happily as I made my way through the door and down the stairs to rejoin the others in the kitchen.

As I strolled through the door, I instantly got the feeling that something was wrong. The look on Dante's face, as he paced around the table, told me that I had intruded on a delicate moment for us as visitors.

"Can you at least give me a reason?"

Dante did not look happy. He spoke with his chin pointed upwards, his back rigid, hands clasped firmly behind his back. His newly shaved face revealed his bone structure to be finer and more classically handsome than it had appeared before under the beard growth. His still wet hair was slicked back in a man bun.

The badly-wigged woman answered, her voice low and without emotion. She spoke in surprisingly good English.

"You have to pass through to the next colony, it's as simple as that."

I watched as Dante continued his relentless pacing, seemingly determined to get to the bottom of the situation, by foot or reason, one way or the other. He didn't look at the female Neighbour while he questioned her.

"Is it true that you've invited the seventh colony guards here this evening? Am I to believe that we have been used for your own purposes rather than given the sanctuary that we sort out?"

His words had a kind of sharp edge to them that led me to believe that things were not going the way he'd planned or hoped.

Marco sat at the table with the other, male Neighbour. They simultaneously ate slices of pizza and laid down cards to some ridiculous version of the game of snap. Marco watched Dante intently, humouring his opponent in the card game with the odd grunt of defeat or sniff of victory.

Dante ceased his pacing and came to a stop an arm's length from where I stood in the doorway. He suddenly realised my presence in the room and flashed me a smile, his face broke into sunshine itself.

"Ah! Miss Poll. Could I ask you to please implore these good people to see the error of their ways and give us a chance - or at least a few minutes - to get ourselves out of the building and away before these bad excuses for human beings arrive here?"

"That depends," I answered cheekily. "What bad excuses are we talking about exactly?"

I pulled up the chair next to Marco, I could smell that he'd also had a wash and a change of clothes.

Dante went over to the cooker and flicked the switch to heat up a coffee pot.

"Well, I don't suppose you would be aware of this, but, once a welcome guard is reported dead, the local spies are contacted. So that means our lovely hosts here will very soon be swamped with agents."

I had no idea how I should answer to this, so I muttered back;
"Oh. That can't be good."

"No, little tyke," Dante sighed as he watched the steam rise from the boiling pot spout. "I can't see that it is." He poured out five small cups of coffee and carried them on a tray to the table. "There!"

I thought he looked happy with himself when he placed each cup reverently in front of us.

The dense, dark liquid had a strong odour of burnt wood mingled with coffee.

The male Neighbour sniffed at his cup dubiously before looking up at Dante with a frown.
"Sembra fango."

Dante's face fell as Marco laughed at his companion's words. Dante demanded an explanation.
"It might look like mud, but does it smell like it, you idiot?" He slumped down in the chair next to me and picked up his own cup to scrutinise the liquid. "It looks alright to me. Why don't you taste it and then tell me what it is?"

Marco chuckled, watching the Neighbour pull faces of disgust as he lifted the cup to his lips. To my left I heard Dante sigh heavily. Once the older man had taken a gulp of coffee he licked his lips and put the cup back down in an almost regal manner. He glanced at Marco and nodded his head, speaking to him rather than Dante.
"Si- è fango!"

Dante stood up abruptly, scraping his chair and sending wonderful scents of aftershave and fresh laundry my way.
"Bloody heathen!"

I got the feeling that he wasn't as mad about the insult to his coffee making skills, as he was to what the lady Neighbour had done. In fact, to make this point clear, he pushed at the cup in front of her and snorted at her.
"Well? What's your expert opinion then? Does it match up to the World Union State coffee or not?"

The lady shuffled in her seat, her eyes flicked from Dante's to her husband's. She didn't look comfortable with either of them, and for a moment I actually felt sorry for her. She drank the liquid quickly and stared at Dante before giving her answer.
"It's absolutely terrible."

Her partner, husband or whoever he may have been to her, laughed loudly at her response and stood up to clap Marco hard on the back.
"Vai via!" He yelled.

I guessed the meaning behind the words before Dante bothered to explain them and I got the idea that he wasn't really joking.

"Yes, we will be going now, thank you." Dante leaned over the table and glared at the old couple. "And we would appreciate it if you could hold the guards here for a while, you know, give us a chance to get away? Or is that too much to ask?"

The lady Neighbour smirked and picked at the scarlet lipstick which had crusted on the corner of her mouth.
"I suppose we could do that, but I want something in return."

Dante sighed and straightened up, resting his hands on his hips. "And what would that be?"

The older lady ran her tongue over her lips and leaned back in her chair, uncrossing her legs. "Give me a kiss and I'll hold them off as long as possible, my dear!"

The other Neighbour came across as oblivious to the disgusting suggestion that she'd put to my handsome Dante. There was no way on earth that he would entertain such a ridiculous notion.

To my horror, Dante strode around the table, flung his arms around the old lady and gave her what must have been the world's longest kiss I'd ever seen.

Once Dante broke free, the male Neighbour got to his feet and began to yell at him, pointing his finger, in a raging temper. Marco leapt up to put himself between the two men. While the three of them ranted away at each other, I followed my instincts and took a look at the woman's expression.

As I suspected, she smirked from ear to ear. This was obviously what she'd intended to happen and I was pretty certain that the longer it went on, the more danger we risked.

The men were now at full throttle, hands gesticulated everywhere and voices shouted over one another. I had to do something. I stood up and slapped my hands, flat palmed on the table, shocking them into silence.

"Just stop it!"

They all ceased arguing and glared at my interruption. Even the woman.

"Dante, Marco, she's only trying to keep us here longer. Why can't you see that? She's got you right where she wants you. Now snap out of it and let's get moving. Come on."

Marco's face fell as I knew he'd finally caught on to the ruse. Dante, however, seemed embarrassed at being brought to heel. He picked up his coffee cup and launched it at the kitchen sink. The crash it made caused her to scream as it broke through her screen of smugness.

Standing with his back to me, Dante's shoulders heaved, then he stood straight and gave his orders.
"Get as much food together as you can, Poll. Wrap it in that tablecloth over there and put it in my backpack. We have to go."

I did as he asked, only too pleased to be able to follow his instructions. He wouldn't look round to face me though, and this made me uncomfortable.

The woman had begun to flap her arms around, she shouted and pushed her companion to do something. From the looks of him he was way too angry with her to want to help her with her scheme anymore.

Marco gathered his cards together and checked through his backpack, which he then hoisted onto his shoulder. Then he patted the old man on his back.

Dante held his bag out for me to fill with the collection of bread rolls and olives I'd found. He eventually turned to face me, his face red and sweaty. It unnerved me, so I asked him carefully;
"Are you ok?"

He nodded without smiling and took my hand.
"Let's go, Tyke."

We didn't bother to see how the Neighbours reacted to our departure and the three of us headed out the door and back down the stairs to the basement.

I followed them until we reached the bright room with the false ceiling. Instead of attempting to go back out through the fake street image, Marco knelt down to lift up the lid of a trapdoor.

He waved at me to come over, then pointed down to the black hole. I hesitated, searching for rungs to a ladder or even a rope, anything. The next thing I felt was a thump to my back as someone pushed me into the hole.