They met with a shout that rang in my ears long after they had crashed together and broken apart again. But it was mixed with something else: the bone sound of breaking wood. As I watched, a web of cracks spread through the bannister and a metre-long section exploded away, tumbling in shards and blades to the floor. Charles and Nick fell through it together, spinning through the air, lighted by a flickering flame from the lamp as it too dropped to the ground, splitting on the floorboards to spread paraffin on to the heavy hall rug. The lamp, the shattered wood and their bodies all lay, unmoving, on the floor. Wreckage again.

‘Nick,’ I gasped, as I ran down.

Time and sound seemed to have stopped as I looked from one to the other, both perfectly still and without signs of life. Nothing to say there was blood or warmth in them. I could hear the silence, long and bleak.

And then, with a groan, slowly and painfully, Nick stirred. My heart floated at the sight of his head lifting from the floor. With an effort, he got to his knees, a severe bruise welling on his cheek, and I made to throw my arms around him, but at that moment a flame leaped up from a pool of the lamp’s oil at my feet, making me grab at the bannister for balance. The flare reflected on Nick’s skin as he stood.

He looked deep into me and spoke in a low, severe voice. ‘Go. The police.’ He glanced at Charles, who appeared to be unconscious or worse. In a moment I felt just as I had done when he found me surrounded by police after Lorelei’s death: gratitude entwined with guilt. Unable to say anything, I nodded and ran outside, stumbling over the bottles of paraffin for our heaters. The door closed behind me and the lock clicked into place.

That sound worried me – I couldn’t say why, but here and now it seemed to be cutting me off from Nick for a second time and there was something threatening in that. I turned and shoved at the door. I hadn’t thought to take my key and it was locked firm, but through the leaded side window I could see a bright glow that illuminated Nick’s figure, bending down to pull the remains of the lamp’s oil holder away from the fire – and, behind his back, Charles beginning to lift himself up from the floor.

I smacked my hand on the glass. ‘Nick!’ I screamed, desperate to warn him. His face turned to me; and then it burst away as Charles threw himself on Nick from behind, the two of them tumbling out of sight, slamming against the bottom of the door. ‘Nick!’ I cried out again.