A grey-black pall rose from what had once been a rather lovely wooden chalet. It now lay flattened, though much of it was still airborne: sheets, shrapnel, paper, carpet, wooden planks, all floating through the air then drifting to the earth. Above all, though, there was the smoke, blanking the sky and the mountains.

Before the explosion she had seen the two children waiting outside on the verandah. She had also watched them arrive but had no inkling as to what had occurred indoors or why they had emerged again.

Now she could see no human beings at all. Some of the cattle had fallen to the ground and were struggling to get up, others were scattering.

The air was thick with acrid smoke as she made her way down the path that Wilde had taken no more than half an hour ago. Her heart was full of terrible foreboding. Only as she was close to the bottom of the steep and rocky track did she see a human being. One of the two children was out on the meadow, perhaps fifty metres from the house; it was the boy and he was trying to pick himself up, clearly stunned.

He was on his knees, gasping for breath. He rose shakily to his feet and looked about him. Paula stopped, shielded from sight by a boulder, and watched him as he limped towards a prone figure. It was the girl. The boy knelt beside her and tried to bring her around. He cradled her in his arms and Paula feared that she must be dead, for she could see no movement.

Gradually, the boy lifted her up. He was saying something to her but she didn’t seem to respond. Her fair hair and pretty dress were blackened and torn and her arms hung limply by her sides. The boy managed to get her over his back and held her across his shoulders like a collier bearing a sack of coal. Then, still limping badly, he began to carry her past the lake and away from the wreckage.

After an initial glance at the hopeless ruins of the house, he didn’t look back. Didn’t check whether anyone else had survived and might need help. Nor was he aware of Paula. He hadn’t seen her, but she had seen his gun and had no intention of approaching him.

Within minutes, the two children were gone, in the direction of the path that must lead down to Schwarzenkirche.

Hesitantly, Paula made her move, pistol in hand, watching all around her as she advanced upon the ruins of the building. It was on fire, flames leaping and black smoke billowing. No one could be alive in there. The fire would consume everything and she had no way of extinguishing it.