Angela had been closer to the middle of the auditorium when the collapse happened, and had landed against the back of a seat with enough force to wind her. The air was polluted with dust that irritated her airways and what little she could suck into her lungs was difficult to expel. Normally when her asthma was bad, she would tell herself to stay calm, but these were exceptional circumstances. From the screams and calls for help, everyone was panicking. She gripped the back of the seat and worked through a plan of action before daring to waste precious oxygen attempting to move. Her inhaler was in her handbag. She needed to find it.

‘You’ll be OK,’ she said between wheezes as she explored the ground with her foot.

When she connected with something solid, she crouched down only to discover it was a crumbling piece of plaster. She stayed on the floor, unsure if she had the strength to stand up again, and felt around some more. She couldn’t find her bag. Her hands moved faster, more desperately. It wasn’t there.

She forced her thoughts to slow. If she couldn’t find her inhaler, she could and she would reach crisp, clean air. As she imagined the coolness of the night filling her lungs, she reached the aisle and that was when she remembered Amelia. She wanted to cry.

Lena rubbed her eyes. She was beginning to make out shapes in the gloom. The dust was settling and she found an illuminated sign pointing to a fire exit, the one she had been heading towards, but the doors themselves had vanished behind an avalanche of burning timber and masonry. She would have to return to the back of the stalls. It was getting quieter back there so it must be clearing. Peter had made the right choice. She should have stayed with him. They shouldn’t have argued. She should have said she loved him. A tear slipped down her cheek.

Ignoring the fire raging in the eaves, Lena climbed over the chunks of plaster and skirted around the small fires that were struggling to catch alight. She would feel less scared once she reached the others. There was safety in numbers, and she felt calmer as she approached the point where the circle overhung the stalls.

On the far side of the theatre, away from the collapse, Carole Brody had stopped crying long enough for her vision to clear. She was hurrying towards the undamaged side exit, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the destruction all around her. She could see where the ceiling had been devoured by an inferno and where the upper tier had been damaged. That was when she noticed a lone figure in the circle, and she almost tripped over.