Two weeks later my family and I were once again walking across the common to the funfair.

Even from a distance I could see that the fair had been transformed. Rides like the Waltzer and Ferris Wheel were still visible, but rising behind them instead of the circus tent was the back of a crescent of high stands covered in red awnings.

We began walking towards the central archway cut into the back of the stands. On the way I noticed that attractions like the Wheel of Pain had disappeared, and in their place were more food stalls and places to sit and eat.

We showed our tickets to an attendant and made our way through the archway, finding ourselves in a tunnel under the stands. The far end of the tunnel opened up to reveal the arena, an oval of sand with a red awning backdrop and two large semi-circular openings, which were currently closed off with blue curtains.

The stands, which curved halfway around the arena either side of the tunnel, had fifteen rows, and were said to hold around 10,000 spectators.

The audience would have no trouble following the action, as a giant screen above the backdrop stretched from one stand to the other, completing the oval.

We took our seats and I studied the arena some more, though there wasn’t much more to see. Rising from the sand in a crescent near the backdrop were thirteen dark wooden posts with manacles chained to them, and I was excited to see two crucifixes on hinges lying in the sand at either end of the line of posts too.

The stands filled quickly and it was soon seven thirty: Showtime!

A solemn fanfare played and the ringmaster walked into the centre of the arena, sporting a fancy new blue coat and top hat. At the same time, twelve guards wearing matching blue costumes with sparkly silver swirls marched out of the openings in the backdrop and spaced themselves out evenly around the arena.

“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, welcome to the Lenhurst Common Memorial Arena!” he said. “We are here tonight to pay tribute to those who fell here by seeing justice done to the rebels who murdered them, and reaffirm that we will not tolerate terrorists who despise our country and way of life. But first, please join me in two minutes silence.”

Everyone stood in respect for the dead, and over the two minutes their names and faces were displayed on the screen.

“Now, let us meet the thirteen rebels who will face justice tonight,” said the ringmaster, leaving the ring.

The left-hand blue curtain opened briefly and a stocky man in his thirties emerged from the opening, stark naked. He had only taken a few steps when he stopped dead, stunned at having been thrust into a gigantic arena with thousands of people watching.

But he didn’t stay still long — the two guards either side of the opening ushered him over to the first wooden post on the left with their whips, and secured his wrists with the manacles so that he had to stand with his hands raised loosely over his head. While this was happening, his name and face was displayed on the screen above, along with a live close-up view of the guards restraining him.

The right-hand curtain then opened and out stepped a young girl wearing only an amber plaited miniskirt. She looked terrified, but didn’t put up any resistance as she was led to the first wooden post on the right and restrained.

This process continued until all the posts were occupied. All the rebels were naked with a few exceptions — notably the boy Martin Spencer, who was once again a mouse, and Lena Kovács, who was a cat.

“Your doing I assume?” I said, turning to my daughter.

“Of course,” she replied. “I hope to see the finale of my routine!”

The ringmaster returned to the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys, girls… and rebels,” he said, “Let me share with you the structure of our tournament. There will be six rounds in which two or three rebels will fight each other to the death. They will have fifteen minutes to do this — if they fail, the audience will choose the victor.”

“After an interval, we will hold semi-finals and then of course a final. Only one rebel will leave this arena alive, with their conviction annulled and their freedom.”

“Now, without further ado, let’s start with the trio. These three condemned rebels were rescued from our Dodgems tent and thought that they would escape their sentence. Please bring forward Ada, Bea and Celia Johnson.”

There was applause as the guards released three girls and brought them over to the ringmaster.

“We have dressed these girls in these lovely miniskirts so that you can tell them apart. Ada is wearing amber, her older sister Bea is wearing blue, and her oldest sister Celia is wearing cerise. Easy to remember, isn’t it?”

“Girls,” he said, turning to them, “I have some good news for you — at least two of you will get to see the entirety of this tournament!”

Hearing this, the youngest girls looked at each other with relief. Only Celia stood stone-faced, knowing there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But…” continued the ringmaster, “it will be because you will be watching from those crosses over there.”

The audience murmured as he gave each girl a hammer and a small bag of nails with a rubber band attached, before retiring to a seat at the edge of the arena.

“Your fifteen minutes start now!” shouted the ringmaster, and a countdown timer appeared on the screen along with close-ups of the girls’ startled faces.

Celia placed the rubber band around her wrist to secure the bag of nails, and the other girls followed suit.

They stood looking at each other for a moment, but then I saw Celia give a furtive glance at Ada before looking intensely at Bea. The intent was clear. Bea and Celia suddenly grabbed Ada’s arms and began to drag the little girl towards one of the crosses as she protested.

At the cross, Bea straddled Ada’s chest while Celia took a nail from her bag and forced Ada’s left arm onto the patibulum.

“What are you doing? You’re hurting me!” sobbed Ada.

“I’m sorry sis, but I’m not dying for you,” Celia said, before trying to rationalise her selfishness. “Besides, mum and dad have spent more time and money on me than on you, so it’s logical that I should survive.”

She quickly hammered a nail through Ada’s left wrist, before moving around to do the same to her right wrist. Ada had never felt such intense pain in her young life, and promptly fainted.

“Nail her feet,” ordered Celia, and Bea reluctantly used her hammer to secure Ada’s feet to the stipes.

Both girls arose to stand over Ada.

“Now raise her up,” ordered Celia.

“Can’t you do it?” replied Bea, hesitantly.

“Together, then,” said Celia, and they put their hands on either side of the patibulum.

They raised the cross to around forty-five degrees, their arms above their heads, but as Celia moved to grasp the stripes, Bea unexpectedly let go of the patibulum. Celia staggered under the sudden extra weight and Bea made her move, hitting Celia over the head with her hammer.

Celia fell to the ground and lay there, knocked out with the cross on top of her. The noise from the audience swelled as Bea raised her hammer for a second blow.

“You can’t kill her like that!” boomed the voice of the ringmaster, and Bea’s arm stopped mid-air.

Perturbed, Bea grabbed Celia’s arm, and with great effort dragged her out from under Ada’s cross and over to the empty cross.

As Celia began to come around, Bea knelt on her throat and quickly nailed her left wrist to the patibulum. Celia let out a stifled squeal, and when Bea repositioned herself to nail her right wrist, she grabbed her arm.

“Please sweet Bea, don’t do this to me,” she pleaded.

“The logic you used to justify killing Ada would work just as well for me too, wouldn’t it sis?” said Bea angrily as she wrested Celia’s hand off of her arm.

Celia said nothing.

“You’ve always resented us,” Bea said, and with one strong blow she nailed Celia’s right wrist to the patibulum.

As Celia continued to squeal, Bea nailed her feet and then began raising her cross. She struggled with the weight, but eventually managed to secure the base of the cross with a pin and walk back over to Ada.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you sis,” she said, wiping the tears from Ada’s eyes before raising her cross.

As the pin secured the cross, a victory fanfare sounded and the timer on the screen stopped with two minutes remaining.

“Please give a round of applause for the winner of Round One: Bea Johnson!” exclaimed the ringmaster.

The audience clapped as Bea was led back to her post and the guards reattached her manacles. A guard pulled down her miniskirt and took it away, leaving her naked, and then went to each of the crucified girls in turn and cut off their miniskirts too with his knife, eliciting wolf-whistles from the audience.