And then there was the deafening sound of police sirens wailing through the air, and a pop-pop-pop like fireworks and smoke fizzing up from the cobblestones. Smoke bombs, thrown by the police, had landed on the ground outside the pyramid. They let out long silver plumes of smoke shrouding the square around the Louvre.

All around us now, people were no longer just pushing and shouting. Now they began to scream. I was still blocking the Louvre exit and one man pushed past me so hard that I fell over. Françoise helped me back to my feet again.

“Come on!” she said. “We need to get out of here.”

I ran after her, panting, terrified. The smoke from the bombs was making my eyes stream and it was hard to see where I was going.

And then, across the road, on the other side of the square, I saw Oscar and Claude.

Oscar wore a high-vis vest, and he rode alongside three other mounted officers on chestnut horses. They were blowing whistles, signalling and moving the crowds along, beckoning for people to move out of the open street and into the buildings that bordered the square.

“That’s Claude!” I pointed him out to Françoise. “The horse? The one from my pictures? It’s him –”

I didn’t get to finish because over the sound of the sirens and the bombs, suddenly another noise cut through. There was a car, the engine revving, tyres squealing and more screams now, people yelling and crying out.

Across the courtyard, people were scattering, running in every direction as the car – well, it was a van, I could see it now, a white van – going as fast as if it were on a motorway, sped right through the crowds.

“What’s he doing?” Françoise said. “Hey! He can’t drive through here, it’s pedestrians only!”

And that was when I realised what the van was doing. “He’s going to hit the pyramid!” I said. “He’s doing it on purpose! Françoise, we need to run!”

By then, though, the crowds were pushing us back towards the Louvre, but I fought my way out, heading towards Claude and Oscar.

“This way!” I called to Françoise. “Run!”

I began to sprint across the square as the van mounted the kerb, still driving straight for the pyramid.

“Françoise …” I had thought she’d been running right behind me, but she must have been swept up in the crowd and forced back towards the Louvre entrance. I could see her now, far behind me and only just now breaking free of the crush, running to catch me.

“Françoise!”