Jane wondered what he meant. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’

He forced a smile. ‘That depends on what it is.’

‘What made you want to become a priest?’ She hoped he wouldn’t be offended by the query.

Father Chris sighed. ‘That’s a question I’ve repeatedly asked myself these last few days.’ He paused and looked at Jane with a sadness in his eyes. ‘I’ve never told anyone the real reason before.’

‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ she said, sensing his discomfort.

‘I was seeking God’s forgiveness, by giving my life to Him.’

‘Forgiveness for what?’ Jane asked.

‘The death of my parents,’ he said softly as his eyes glazed over. ‘If it wasn’t for me, they’d still be alive.’

‘What happened?’ Jane asked in a quiet voice.

‘We had a small restaurant in Valetta, and my parents and I lived above it. My father Aaron looked after the guests and my mother Tamyra was the cook. My brother Michael and I took turns working in the kitchen and serving the guests. We closed early one Friday night as it wasn’t very busy. Michael went home to his wife and baby son and I went to a nearby nightclub with a girlfriend.’ He paused and took a deep breath.

‘I can still remember hearing the explosion above the sound of the music. Everyone ran into the street to see what had happened. The sky was red with flames and filled with smoke. Somehow, I knew it was our restaurant. I ran down the road to find the front of the building blown out and the inside on fire. The upper floor we lived on was in a state of collapse . . . then I saw my mother at the smoke-filled bedroom window trying to open it . . . but she couldn’t. I tried to go in, but I was driven back by the flames. I tried again, but a friend grabbed me and said it was too dangerous. Eventually the fire brigade came . . . but it was too late. After they put the fire out, I found my father in the kitchen. He had died from severe blast injuries. My mother was in the bedroom . . . there wasn’t a mark on her body. I cradled her in my arms, but she was dead from smoke inhalation.’ He put his hands over his face and wept.

Jane wanted to comfort Father Chris by putting her arms round him, but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate.

‘Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry for your loss. It must have been terrible for you and your brother. What caused the explosion?’

He looked up at Jane slowly. ‘I did. And I can’t forgive myself for what I’ve done . . . only God can.’ His voice trembled.

Jane felt numb. ‘But how . . .?’