A young officer rushed to her side and surveyed the destruction. His uniform was clean, with none of the dust. He must have been further out on the lawn, maybe even in the marquee when the explosion had happened.

‘Are you medical?’ he asked. His voice sounded muffled and distant.

‘I know basic first aid,’ she said. ‘But that’s it.’

‘Any idea how many people were in here?’

She shook her head.

The officer nodded. ‘We need to get inside. And then triage. Ignore anyone screaming and go to the quiet ones. If you’re screaming, you’re breathing. OK?’

Karene looked at the young man and wondered how he was so calm, what hell his eyes had seen.

‘Check if they can respond. Then airway, breathing … Shout if you find a problem. I’ll get to you as soon as I can.’

Karene pulled her dress up to her knees and tied a knot in the fabric to lift it from the floor. Then she stepped carefully around and over the debris. Harry had been near a window to the left of the reception. There were no doors before the smashed-up staircase so she kept moving along the corridor and beyond it until she found a door to the left.

She stepped through it. Thin shafts of sunlight broke through the blown windows and Karene made her way towards the light.

‘Help,’ said a voice. ‘Please help.’

A woman was sitting up against the wall.

If you’re screaming, you’re breathing. That went for talking too.

‘I’ll be back,’ Karene said. ‘I promise.’

She kept moving. There were no other shouts, no moans or screams. Which meant that Harry was silent.

She found him on his back by the window. He wasn’t moving. She dropped to her knees and did as the young officer had instructed.

‘Harry?’ she shouted. ‘Harry! Can you hear me?’

There was no response. She opened his mouth and checked his airway. It was clear. Then she placed her ear beside his lips. She couldn’t hear anything – the ringing in her head was far too loud – but she was sure she felt his breath warm and steady against her cheek. She lifted his wrist and felt for a pulse. It was strong. She checked for injuries but couldn’t find anything. There was a thick layer of dust on his face and she gently wiped it away from his nose and mouth. There was also a small graze on his forehead.

She ran her hands through his hair and down the sides of his head, praying that she wouldn’t feel any wetness. Then she did the same across his torso, feeling under his jacket and finally checking his arms and legs. He seemed OK. Unconscious, yes, but OK.

‘Ma’am, I need you over here.’ The young officer’s voice sounded calm but assertive. This was not a request; it was an order.