He placed the bottle back on the table and then picked up a box of matches. With shaking hands, he lit one. He stood watching the burning match in fascination until it got down to his fingertips. Then the burning sensation made him throw it from him. He watched, sucking his finger, as it ignited the whisky. In the semi-darkness he saw a tiny blue flame slowly lick its way along the back of the settee, gathering momentum as it went. A sticky burning smell emanated from it. George watched as Bert, still snoring heavily, began to breathe in the black smoke.

It wasn’t until Bert’s clothes caught fire that George felt a shiver of apprehension. He watched as the trouser material began to curl up and melt, his excitement growing stronger as Bert did nothing to help himself.

Then all at once the settee was a fireball. It just seemed to burst into big red and yellow flames that snaked over the arms and on to the floor.

George stepped back towards the door, the heat from the flames touching his aching face.

Then he heard an almighty roar. The flames were standing up and coming towards him.

He backed out quickly into the hallway, his woollen socks making him slip and slide in his haste. The terrible agonising roar came from the flames again. The man was stumbling round the room in panic. George saw Bert grab the brocade curtains and watched in fascination as the flames began to creep up them as well. Suddenly, everywhere was pandemonium. Edith was behind him and her screams brought George back to himself. He watched as she pulled the tablecloth off the kitchen table and ran back into the front room and tried to put out the flames on Bert with it. He was lying on the floor and Edith was patting at the flames.

‘Go and get some help, George, for goodness’ sake. Hurry UP!’

He snapped into action and collided with Joseph who came careering down the stairs at the noise.

‘Bloody hell!’ Joseph’s voice was incredulous.

Then he was out of the front door and running up the garden path in his pyjamas. George turned back to the scene in the front room.

Edith’s nightdress was burning, the hem was beginning to glow blue, and he ran into the room and pulled on his sister’s arm.

‘Your nightie! Edie, your nightie!’ She allowed him to stamp it out with his woollen socks.

‘What the hell’s going on here?’

Nancy’s voice was loud. She stood in the doorway blinking rapidly.

The room was blazing now and Edith pushed George towards the door.

‘Mum . . . help me pull him outside. For God’s sake, the whole place is gonna go up.’