‘Will you call me if he does?’

‘Right away. Now grab some things. I’ll get you to my place. It’s safer there.’

It wasn’t the first time Jack had suggested I seek refuge at his house. He’d actually dropped a couple of hints that one day I should move in with him. I’d been tempted. Sometimes I’d have a moment standing in Jack’s kitchen, looking at simple things – a chipped teapot, a mismatched collection of spoons – and imagining my own teapot, my wedding present cutlery there. I wasn’t planning to move: Claire’s old place was Caleb’s home and I enjoyed the new stability the two of us found here.

But this time Jack’s suggestion made sense. He’d modified his house specifically for fire safety in a changing climate. It had thick walls and fire-retardant screens. Over the past few months I’d made memories there, on evenings Caleb was with Stephen. Listening to his vinyl collection, resting my head on his shoulder while we watched DVDs, wondering if this would ever be my home. We would all be safer there. Jack was right.

‘I’ll have to bring the Beckwiths with me.’

‘Can you organise them quickly?’

We returned to my sitting room. ‘Leanne. We’re going to Jack’s place. He’s virtually rebuilt it to withstand fire. We’ll be safe there.’

I didn’t leave her any choice. She rounded up her children.

I left notes, one in Caleb’s room and another in the kitchen. If he wasn’t located soon, I’d call the police, report him missing. I wouldn’t listen when they said young men often disappear without explanation. That they have a lot on their minds: exams, university places, girls. I’d insist on a search, anyway.

I grabbed my handbag. I gathered important documents – bank statements, health insurance – the primary sources of my own history. I wrapped the Roman oil lamp (already rescued once today), and a small square of first-century mosaic in a soft scarf. I’d purchased both pieces in Rome, smuggling them with great care through an airport (where, perhaps, antiquities police didn’t exist). I couldn’t take anything from the cedar chest. It would be terrible to lose items so carefully amassed – but not as terrible as discovery.

‘Anything else? You might not get a chance to…’ Jack’s words trailed off.

Leanne had one child under each arm as she called for the others. ‘Kids! Hurry! We’re leaving!’

Harmony appeared, a large shopping bag draped over her arm, and carrying my guitar. Dread curled a tail around itself in my belly and settled in. I had to trust my guitar to Harmony’s jammy fingers or leave it behind.

This might be it. I might never come home. I spun on the balls of my feet and raced to the back of the house, returning with several books of Caleb’s baby photos. Then, from the driveway, another delay. A curtain twitched in Rosie’s front window. She and Sean were still home.

‘They can’t stay here either,’ I said to Jack. ‘I’ll take them in my car if I have to.’