‘Edward! Please! Do not do this! Edward!’

He hears Annie banging at the door, but he ignores her. She will never look at me in the same way, he thinks, calmness and acceptance coming over him. What is done cannot be undone. It is too late for redemption. His path is set, perhaps was set for him all along. He recalls a passage from Isaiah.

When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.

Then he prays:

‘Our Father, which art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name;

Thy kingdom come;

Thy will be done;

In earth as it is in heaven.’

Richard stumbles forward in the smoke, feels his way along the hallway to where Annie is and grabs her by the shoulder. She resists at first, but she is tired and she can see through the glass that her husband, stubborn and determined as ever, has already made up his mind.

‘Edward!’ she tries one last time, her fists thumping at the door. ‘Edward!’

‘Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,’

She sobs as Richard scoops her up, tries to carry her out, but the smoke is thick, she is heavy in her woollen clothes and the fire is unbearably hot. He staggers slowly with her in his arms, coughing and choking along the hallway, carefully trying to avoid the flames that flicker and taunt them from all directions. He gathers every ounce of energy he has, each footstep a battle with his own self. He roars as he tries to move forward, pushing himself on but it is so very, very hard . . .

‘For thine is the kingdom, the power,

and the glory,

for ever and ever.

Amen.’

The fire sighs with relief as it explores Edward’s dissecting room, fingers of flames licking their way towards his specimen jars full of flammable liquid. Aaah, the fire whispers, aaah . . .

The explosion feeds the fire, transforming it into a raging furnace.

Charlie has dutifully obeyed his instructions. A cab is waiting at the end of St Mary Axe and he runs back to tell Jos just as the explosion blows out the windows in the servants’ hall at the front of the house.

Jos panics. His beloved Mary, my God! He cannot lose her too, cannot even contemplate the possibility of doing so. He runs to the house, bellowing, shouting Richard’s name too, but the flames are already travelling up from the basement’s polished wooden stairs to the ground floor, licking at the new wallpaper, feeding on the rich wool carpets that were so recently put in.