Nancy threw George out of the front door. He stood in the rain, his feet beginning to freeze, while Nancy and Edith dragged Bert’s bulk from the house. Thick black smoke was coming from the front door and the smell of burning was everywhere. Little flakes of grey ash were trying to rise up with the smoke but the rain was forcing them down on to the pavement and eventually into the sewers.

Lights were now on all over the little cul-de-sac and people were coming from their houses in fear and excitement. George felt Mrs Marshall put a heavy coat around his shoulders and pull him from the garden. Her slender arms were gentle as she propelled him towards her own house. He watched the proceedings from her lovely warm front room. He stared out of the lead light window and across the road with a feeling of unreality.

The clamour of the fire engines made him start. The firemen were clearing everyone away from the burning house. Bert was taken from the garden on a stretcher, a blanket covering his face.

George was elated. Bert was dead. He was dead. Bert Higgins was dead. He turned to Mrs Marshall and she mistook the light in the boy’s eyes for unshed tears. She pulled him into her sweet-smelling embrace and kissed the top of his head gently.

‘Poor little mite, aren’t you?’

He had never felt so powerful. He had rid the world of Bert Higgins.

Mrs Marshall put him from her and looked into his face. ‘Shall I make you some nice sweet tea?’ She placed him gently on her settee and went out to her kitchen.

Joseph walked into the room and sat beside George. His face was ashen.

‘Mum’s gone to the hospital with Bert. Edith’s gone with her. We’re to stay here until they come back.’

George slipped his hand into his brother’s, and Joseph squeezed it tightly.

‘Mrs Marshall’s making some tea, Joseph, do you want some?’

The next day George and Joseph raked through the ruined house. They managed to salvage quite a bit of stuff and piled it carefully in the front garden. Edith and Nancy came home from the hospital in the afternoon.

Nancy went straight into Mrs Marshall’s, Edith came for the boys.

‘Bert’s dead. Mum was sedated and I had to stay there with her. Are you two all right?’

‘Where are we going to go?’

Edith shrugged.

‘I don’t know. But don’t worry, things will turn out all right, they always do somehow.’ Her voice was tired and George felt a great sadness for her.

‘Mrs Marshall made us eggs and bacon this morning. She might make you some if you ask her nicely.’

Edith smiled at him wanly.

‘I’m not very hungry.’

George shrugged and resumed his searching.

‘Do they know how the fire started, Edie?’