‘Do you know who lit it yet?’

‘…but we’re asking people who have suspicions to contact us rather than make rash statements.’

‘Facebook is full of arson rumours,’ Sadie persisted. ‘Will you release a Photo-Fit?’

‘If and when we have one.’

Another uniformed man appeared beside the two fireys. I’d seen him on TV before. Police Commissioner Roderick Brady, resplendent in his uniform and medals, took the microphone. ‘I do have an update I’m authorising you to release.’

There was an excited buzz.

‘Brunton is of interest because we’ve identified a likely suspect very early in our investigations there.’

Excitement broke out among the reporters. A number spoke at once.

‘Who?’

‘Have you made an arrest?’

The commissioner cleared his throat again. ‘We suspect a young male adult. His age and gender fit the profile of your typical arson offender. We won’t be releasing his identity at the moment.’

‘What is a typical offender profile?’

‘Well, as I said, we mean young and male.’ The commissioner counted on his fingers. ‘He’s disconnected from society, he had a grudge against members of one family that unfortunately perished. Sadly, another factor we’ve come to expect is he has previously volunteered for the CFA.’

Mutterings and mumbles. Newspapers were full of firefighters who lit their own fires in order to become heroes. In this crazy, backwards world, everyone knew how suspicious joining the CFA could be, even those who had, themselves, joined the CFA.

‘How sure are you?’

‘As sure as we can be at this stage. His name’s come up several times. As far as we know, the suspect has no alibi for the time the fire was set.’

‘As far as you know?’

‘The suspect is currently receiving medical treatment. We plan to interview him as soon as possible. This is all I’m prepared to announce at this stage. The other news I’m releasing is the immediate establishment of Taskforce Phosphorus. This taskforce will be charged with overseeing the investigation into all the fires in Victoria. There will be dozens of CFA members and the police, including the current Victim Identification Teams. That’s all for now.’

I turned the television off. Somehow, in this place of all places, I managed to sleep.

In my dreams, twenty years vanished. I was a uni postgrad using Ancient Roman art as a primary source for my thesis. I was with Marco Ossani. He was as I’d known him then, dressed in black, chin ending in a little pointed beard. We’d been digging for the secret workings of the Imperial era’s Domus Aurea revolving dining table.

Then, as time changes in dreams, more centuries collapsed. The ancient historian Pliny was with Marco and me, in a boat returning to Pompeii as Vesuvius erupted. Returning! Our dream selves had already successfully fled, but we had to go back to rescue a friend and his family. A hail of fire and ash covered us. Our mission had a deadly futility. In the night sky above us, the goddess Venus, married to Vulcan, was discovered in bed with the god Mars. I knew the terrible violence, the burning that would result from Vulcan’s fiery rage, and clutched Marco’s hand in mine.