Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. Fatima’s father signalled to his family to remain at the table and to be quiet. He opened the door cautiously and was relived to see his neighbour’s wife standing there.

“Come in, come in,” he said.

She looked behind her guiltily and then slipped into the dimly lit room.

“You must be quick,” she said urgently. “You must all leave at once.”

My first break

Bestselling children's authors tell how they got published

• Your chance to be a published author

• Who are Chicken House?

BACKGROUND

• The Hinba Ghosts by Kate Green

• A1 Joe and the Roman Dog by Judith Low

• The Song of Sky and Evening by Charlie Scott

• Gemoc by Elizabeth Lawson

• The Beaten Road by Roberta Nichols

BACKGROUND

• Reavers by Emily Diamand

• Jack Flynn and the Assassins by John M. O’Brien

• Tutankhamun: Diary of a Boy King by Laurence Rowley

• They Do Things Differently There by Ruth Furness

• The Secret Life of Jemma Jones by A. M. Conway

“Why? What is happening?”

“The soldiers are coming. They are killing Muslims and burning their houses. You must leave everything and go now.”

“But I can’t …”

“Please don’t argue! You must go!” She fingered the crucifix at her neck as she spoke. “I am in danger just by being here. If I am caught talking to you, I could be killed too.”

The sound of heavy guns being fired in the distance silenced them all. The cups rattled as the house shook.

“Yes … don’t put yourself in danger any longer … go back home now and … thank you.” said Fatima’s father.

She turned to go.

“I will pray for you,” she said and slipped out into the darkness.

The little family all looked at each other. No one spoke and no one moved.

“Where shall we go?” whispered Fatima.

“To the hills,” replied her father. “We can hide there until the soldiers have gone.”

“What shall we do then?”

“I don’t know … I … come on … put on a warm coat and carry only a blanket … when we leave the house, keep together and do not speak.”

Quickly and silently, they buttoned up their heavy winter coats, pulled a blanket from each bed, rolled it into a manageable shape and crept out into the night. They heard the heavy guns and felt the earth tremble at their feet. They recognised the sharper sounds of rifle shots which drew terrifyingly closer. In the distance they could see the bright glow in the sky from the houses which had been set on fire. Their neighbour’s warning had not come a moment too soon.

They kept very close together as they made their way out of the village. Golden candlelight could be seen through some of the windows, but most houses were in total darkness. As soon as it was practical they left the road and walked across the fields. The gently sloping meadows gave way to steeper, rockier terrain, which, although more difficult to cover, did make them feel safer. They climbed until they reached a thickly wooded area, then settled down for the night.

They huddled together for warmth but no one could sleep. Distant gunfire was not the only sound that kept them awake. Occasionally they heard women screaming or men shouting. The smoke from the burning houses drifted towards them and they could only imagine what horrors was being suffered far below their hiding place.

Times Recommends

• The 100 Best Books of the Decade
• The Times picks the 50 best paperbacks of 2009
• The conversation: James Ellroy