Tracey adds:

She slipped out the backdoor and chucked her apron into the trashcan. The rats squealed and scattered. She walked briskly towards the end of the dark alleyway. She glanced furtively over her shoulder and disappeared into the night as she made her way towards the darkest corner. Lighting a match, she got down on her knees. In front of her was a small door, one that would barely reach her hips if she were standing. She picked up the brass knocker between her thumb and index finger and thumped it three times (I say thump, but it was more of a ting - the sound a kitten's bell would make should said kitten fart).