Harriet smiled. “I thought so. Keep up the good work, and I’ll see you in half an hour.”

Jem waited for Harriet to leave and then drank more of the tea unaided. She frowned at the layer of soot she was smearing on the plastic. “Do I look like a chimney sweep?” she asked.

“You are slightly smudged in places,” Rosie admitted. “Do you want me to cadge some soap and a flannel?”

“You’re not giving me a bloody bed-bath, Rosie Jones.”

Rosie laughed, a proper carefree laugh that rolled in her belly and made her feel seven feet tall. “Would you rather that agency nurse with the mad moustache and the twitch did it?”

“Good Lord, no.” Jem closed her eyes. “All right. Go and find the stuff before I change my mind.”

* * *

The staff on the respiratory ward greeted Jem like a family friend, assigning her to a side room and turning a blind eye to the hoodie-wearing, barefoot bobby who’d accompanied her from A&E. Katya, her named nurse, found tomato soup and picnic boxes from somewhere, and then returned halfway through their supper with Jem’s dad.

Jem dropped her sandwich as he entered the room. She thought she’d stuck a reasonably firm lid on the evening’s events, until she burst into tears and fell forward into his arms.

“Shush now, Jemima. Shush,” he murmured against her cheek, but his hold on her was fierce, and she knew he was crying as well. She wrapped her fists in his rain-damp jacket and listened as the thrum of his heartbeat became slower and more regular. He pulled away at length and dabbed her eyes with his hanky. “There you go. No more tears, love.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Dad. I’m really sorry. We found these girls, and someone set the house on fire…” She paused to let her lungs catch up. “And this is Rosie. She broke a window and got us all out.”

If her dad recognised Rosie’s name, he didn’t let on. He stood to shake her hand in both of his. “Pete Pardon. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Jem was lucky to have you there today.”

“I think we were all lucky,” Rosie said. She didn’t elaborate. Earlier she’d used Kash’s update to fill in the blanks for Jem, but with the trauma still so recent and raw, neither of them had wanted to dwell on the details.

Jem’s dad had never liked making anyone feel uncomfortable. He returned to his seat and pulled a tin from a plastic bag, flipping the lid and displaying the contents like a pirate with a chest full of treasure. Even with the stream of oxygen beneath her nose, Jem caught the scent of chocolate and butter.

“Your mum baked these for you,” he said.