The other fireys departed in the tanker after handing Jack the bag and laptop he’d left inside. He followed me up the back stairs and made coffee while I checked on Caleb. The fire had been noisy, close to his window. But he was sound asleep, earbuds pushed firmly in place.

In the sitting room, I sank into my sofa. Jack made comforting, rattling noises in the kitchen. He’d been involved in disasters with Caleb since the first day we exchanged words. His kindness was incredible.

Jack carried the coffees in on a tray, laptop bag dangling from his spare hand, and sat beside me. My eyelids were heavy. Perhaps physical exertion would keep my insomnia at bay. ‘Thanks. I’ve kept you up all night.’

‘And not in a good way.’ He laughed, tiredly suggestive. A streak of ashes shaded his nose. The coffee was good and strong. A couple of sips, and my head cleared.

‘Are you working in the morning?’ I asked.

‘One of the others’ll get me on his way in.’ He’d be staying overnight. That should have been thrilling. If only I wasn’t so tired. If only his laptop didn’t glow with hidden knowledge about the arson investigation, knowledge I knew Jack wasn’t allowed to share.

Early in our relationship, evenings had blossomed. Jack enjoyed listening to my guitar playing and would arrive at the Brunton Hotel, face stubbled after a day’s work, fingers keeping my rhythm, sipping on a pint of beer. I remembered his enthusiasm for my new song ‘A New Home’, one that was often requested. I’d been so proud of that song, at once nostalgic and hopeful. Back then, our lives had a shared rhythm – Jack had returned to Brunton shortly after I arrived. He was single and interesting. Like me, he had a family connection to the town. After a few dates, I’d invited him over for a barbecue that neither of us ate. Staring at fat drizzling from my sausages, hardening on my chops, I’d been aware of Caleb acting like the judge at an audition for his new dad. In those days, a judge who didn’t want a winner. It seemed bad enough he had his old one.

Eventually, Jack had won Caleb over. It was hard to believe there’d been a time before they were close. ‘A New Home’ was a reminder of those first days, but I’d never really found a home here, and now, I’d write different lyrics. I’d connect the fire’s damage to the damage accusations caused. Some wounds caused ulcers, ate fissures through everything in your life. Everything you thought you knew or understood. Did people write lyrics about ulcers and fissures?