‘I respect a man who can change his mind on one of the key issues of our time,’ he said, a self-satisfied smile telling me all I needed to know.

That conversation – which took place a few months ago – started bouncing around my head again tonight as I stubbed out my third cigarette in a row. Todor was now something of a celebrity; the anti-abortion star of the Los Angeles diocese. The fact that his Angels Assist charity was being largely funded by one of the biggest financial hotshots in town had meant I was seeing less of my old friend. A quiet but evident gulf had grown even further between us since my wife had become a militant while working as a full-time volunteer for Angels Assist. When I brought up my concerns early on about her growing fanaticism Todor told me that I should be pleased she was doing God’s work. And that ‘civil disobedience’ against the murder of unborn children was justified.

Civil disobedience. Again I saw that man on the motorcycle – his identity hidden by that shiny black helmet with its frosted visor pulled down – throwing the lit Molotov cocktail into the abortion clinic, and the man with the taser catching fire just minutes later. Again I was hit with another shudder that seized my entire body. It took a good minute to subside. I wiped my eyes, I tried taking a few steadying breaths, then I went inside and put the empty beer bottle into the garbage can we use for recycling. I stopped in the bathroom for five minutes. I went to my little room and I climbed into bed. I closed my eyes. The exhaustion of the day caught up with me. I slept.

When I woke it was just before eleven. Nearly six straight hours out of the world. Something of a recent record for me – even though I knew that it was still not enough. I showered and dressed and then came down the hall. Agnieska was dressed and ready for church work. She’d already been to our local gym, as she did every morning. I smiled as I came in. She smiled back.

‘You look like you just did an hour of hard exercise,’ I said, noting how she was getting more toned and fit all the time.

‘You should join me,’ she said.

I immediately put a hand on my ever-growing gut. She saw that and touched my hand.

‘I had one of those too, remember. If you get with the program …’

‘I know, I know,’ I said, quietly cursing myself for my rundown shape.

She glanced at her watch, lifted her coffee cup and reached for the remote control. The local news filled the screen. It was the top of the hour and the lead story was about the bombing of the abortion clinic in Van Nuys. And then the anchorwoman said: