The old man flung his arms about, and eventually Lucifer decided to vacate his prize spot and exit, long tail standing rigidly upright.

‘Lucifer’s my protection. Woe betide anyone who manages to break in here. Lucifer would spring right at his face and claw his eyes out.’

McNab believed him.

‘Sorry about the smell. I’ve got the windows shut tight. Oh, that poor lassie.’

He looked so distressed at the memory of why they were here that Janice urged him to sit down.

‘Thanks,’ he said as she helped him into a seat.

Not for the first time, McNab thought it was handy having Janice around. Her glance now told him to say nothing until the old man gathered himself. McNab kept his mouth shut as requested.

‘Would you like me to make you a mug of tea, Mr Donaldson?’ Janice offered.

‘Call me Jimmy, hen. That’s kind, but I’m fine.’

‘D’you feel up to telling us what happened, Jimmy?’ McNab came in.

Jimmy nodded. ‘Aye, son. If you think it’ll help.’

They waited as he took another look out of the window. McNab wondered if his thoughts had wandered off, but then he turned back to face them.

‘I sat up because of the wind. I remember the storm of sixty-eight. Folk killed in their beds when the tenement roofs fell in. So I stayed in here at that window.’ He shook his head, remembering. ‘It was pitch black and blowing a hoolie. The noise of the wind swirling round the back court, screeching through the close. I pulled a blanket round me. The one I keep on the back of the sofa, for when I cannae afford to keep the electric fire on.’ He stopped to brush a tear away.

‘It’s okay, Jimmy, just take your time. DS McNab and I can wait.’

Jimmy gave her a wan smile in thanks, then took a deep breath. ‘That’s when I saw her standing there, hair whipping her face. A second later, there was a whoosh and she was on fire. Jesus, the lassie was on fire. All those locks and bolts, then the bloody wind wouldn’t let me open the door to the back court. I eventually got to her, but by then she was on the ground with her head a mass of flames. I doused the fire, but it was too bloody late.’ He shook his head. ‘My dad used to talk about the Clydebank bombings during the war, the terrible smell of folk burning. He said it never went away. I didn’t believe him.’

McNab rose. ‘I’m going to make you a cup of tea, Jimmy. Sugar and milk?’

‘Aye, son. Do that. Two sugars. And have one yourselves.’