Finlay shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I only know as much as I’ve told you. It was bedlam outside with so much noise. The inferno was still raging when we left. I think the whole building will be gone by the morning in spite of the firemen and their equipment. The blaze seemed to get established in just a few minutes. I think there must have been flammable materials on the stage for the illusions, because it got out of control very quickly. I’m worried about Ann. She hasn’t said a word since we got out of the place. At one point she slipped from my grip as we tried to get out of the stalls and I made a lunge for her bag. I’m afraid I may have torn the strap and she’ll be very unhappy about that. After that I just held her hand and didn’t let go. She may even have some cuts and bruises. I’m so sorry. I did my best.’

John stood up and walked over to where Finlay was sitting. ‘I think you may have saved her life as well as your own.’ His voice cracked as he spoke and held out his hand.

Ursula watched from her chair. She wondered why men were so formal all the time, and silently promised herself that Finlay would not be like that. It was not too late to show an example.

Chapter 22

Thursday 11 May 1911

‘I’m beginning to regret encouraging Ann to read the newspaper so thoroughly,’ said Ursula to John as she handed him his hat and umbrella in the hall.

‘I agree, she does seem to be overly interested in all the details of the fire.’ His voice was almost recovered now, only faltering if he talked too much or too loudly. ‘But it’s too late to put the genie back in that particular bottle, I fear. When is the funeral?’

‘On Sunday.’

‘So soon?’

‘It seems so.’

‘Perhaps all this will be less important to her after it’s over.’

‘I was wondering,’ Ursula paused, ‘if I should take her to see it.’

He stopped walking towards the door.

‘Are you serious? Taking a child to something like that?’

‘Not to the actual funeral. But the newspaper says that tens of thousands of people are expected to come out onto the streets to pay their respects, and I thought we might be able to get a glimpse of the procession, if we were to get up early.’

‘Is that a good idea?’

‘I’m not sure what else will help. She is obsessed with it. And because he was an illusionist she is half-convinced that he isn’t really dead and that he will reappear in a swirl of brocade and silk and shout something suitably theatrical. Perhaps if she sees the procession, she will understand that it is real.’