I lunged forwards, grabbed Trig’s shoulder. “Jed’s home, Trig. We don’t need the portrait any more.”

He pulled away.

“Don’t lie, Maggie.” He stopped fighting with the painting. “I’m staying with him. I won’t leave him on his own.”

He rested his head against the Real Jed. Pressed a palm against it.

He gasped lungfuls of smoke-filled air.

I gripped the frame. “Get the other side, Trig. We’ll do it together.”

GRRRRRRAAASH.

A groaning, leering crash from the hallway.

“Hurry up!” Una leapt across and grabbed the bottom.

Together we lifted it and slid it off the hook. Funny, but it didn’t seem heavy any more. It was as light as a feather.

The smoke thickened.

“This way!” Una guided the picture towards the hallway.

The stairs had collapsed – all smashed and burning right there on the floor. The heat seared at our skin.

“Close your mouths and shut your eyes,” Una screamed.

All four of us – Trig and Jed and Una and me – edged through the gloom, out into the freshness.

Someone strong, someone silent, lifted Jed from us and took him to safety.

Frederick.

We fell coughing into neighbours’ arms.

“Cruise girl? Cruise girl?”

Elsie. Elsie Weather.

Curled, bony fingers stroked at my cheek.

“You all right, Cruise girl?”

“She’s opening her eyes, Mother, look.”

Shadowed faces, old and damaged and kind, looking down on me.

“She’s back with us, Mother. I told you she’d be OK.”

Elsie didn’t smile. She nodded. And smeared a tear away from her eye.

Fire.

Trig.

Trig and Una.

I sat up.

“Trig? Una? Where are they? Where are Trig and Una? Are they OK?”

“Careful, Cruise girl. Careful of your lungs.”

“They’re fine, Maggie. The fire’s under control, and everyone’s all right.” Mr Wetheral leaned out of the way. “See?”

There was Trig, just an arm’s length from me, coiled up in Dad’s hug.

My breathing calmed.

And Una, walking towards me.

She was all right.

She was all right.

I pushed myself up. “Thank you, Mr Wetheral. Thank you, Mrs Weather. I’m sorry, but I just have to—”

“Don’t you worry about us.” Mr Wetheral brushed down his sleeves. “You go and see your friend. It’ll take us a few minutes to get ourselves up off our knees again anyway, won’t it, Mother? Go on.”

I ran to Una. Threw my arms round her.

Dirt.

Sunshine.

And unwashed hair.

All still there, underneath the stink of smoke.

“I’m going to take you home,” I said. “Back to your dad.”

She squeezed me, hard, hard, hard. Like she was going to keep hugging forever. “I haven’t got a home any more, Maggie. I haven’t got a dad. He’s gone.”

Gone?

I pulled away from her, found her hands and held them fast. Looked her straight in the eye.

“What d’you mean? Gone where?”