NINETY-SEVEN

6.45 P.M.

‘Bloody hell, Penn, that’s a scarf,’ Stacey exclaimed as they reached Providence Chapel at the end of the road.

To the left were the steel trap works and yard and stables. To the right were a row of cottages and access to the bakery and the rolling mill.

‘Which way are we supposed to?—’

‘Shush,’ Penn spat at her.

She froze.

‘Did you hear that?’ he whispered.

She shook her head.

He focussed and waited. She did the same.

‘I heard it that time,’ she said.

‘I think it came from over there.’

Stacey followed him as he sprinted through the buildings, pausing only to listen for the faint noise of what had sounded like chain rattling.

Given they were running around the Black Country Museum and the breeze was picking up, it could mean absolutely nothing.

They paused again at the Limelight Cinema.

Same noise but louder.

Stacey felt excitement mix with the adrenaline surging around her body. She loved what she did in the office, but every now and again it was good to feel her feet out on the ground.

They ran towards the chain-making shop.

There was no question that the sound was coming from there.

They managed to look through one of the grimy windows and stopped dead, both unable to believe their eyes.