“I’d put money on his not being here. He’d never have taken the risk.”

“Does your bet hold for this blasted wedding?”

Simon had wiped his face with his sleeve and the sleeve came away filthy with the dust and dirt that had been released into the air by the crash. From the moment of the collapse until now, he had not given a thought to the gunman. Where had he been tonight? Among them, watching, waiting, looking for his opportunity, or miles away? It was a terrible game and they were only distracted now because of a random catastrophe.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “But probably. He doesn’t take risks beyond a certain point. He isn’t a chancer, he calculates.”

“He could be calculating this one.”

“He could. We’ve got to make sure he decides the risk isn’t worthwhile, or if he takes it, that we have him.”

“I’m going to make a fuss c press conference pointing out how secure this wedding is going to be, massive armed police presence and so on.”

“Good.” He had looked across at a fireman, poised on a girder. “One of our armed officers deserves a medal,” he said.

“Clive Rowley? Yes, I heard. He wasn’t supposed to pre-empt the fire service of course, he might have made matters worse.”

“You’re not serious, ma’am? AR are not trained to clamber about trying to drag people out of debris? Health and Safety? Oh please.”

The Chief raised her eyebrows. “Officially, Superintendent, officially.”

He felt all the energy and control begin to drain out of him.

“Go home, Simon. You’ve done as much as you can here. Leave them to it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you safe to drive?”

He gestured in the direction of the close. He had left his car in front of the flat after returning from Bevham General. The Chief walked with him to the cathedral side of the square where her own driver was waiting. Around them, the teams of firemen were still working, taking the collapsed ride apart piece by piece, clambering on ladders laid flat and occasionally calling down through the debris and then listening intently. The area had been cleared but a few people waited outside the police tape, close to the battery of press vans.

“I’m glad your own family were found so quickly, Simon. Some of these are going to be waiting for the rest of the night and into tomorrow. Have there been many calls reporting people still missing?”

“Not as many as you might expect. They’ve got a lot of people out now.”

“Get some sleep. I’m giving a press conference at nine, come in for that.”

Simon nodded. He saw her into her car before walking off towards the close.

Once he had left the range of the arc lights he had looked up and seen that the sky was clear and star-filled with a thin paring of moon over the cathedral tower. It was only when he reached his car that he realised that there was also a frost and he was very cold. He wondered whether to go straight inside, call Hallam House and then go to bed. But he would be flat out all the following day and almost certainly into overtime for the rest of the week. He needed to see them now, no matter what time it was.

His father and Cat were sitting at the kitchen table, teapot and cups in front of them. Sam was stretched out on his mother’s lap with his legs and feet on the chair beside her. He sat up as Simon came in.

“Do you know how many people are dead? Judith might easily be dead and so might I, it was a lucky escape. The fireman said it didn’t have my number on it.”

Simon sat down next to Cat and put his hand on her arm. “You should be in bed. Are you staying here?”

“Yes. Chris is asleep. I’ve made the beds up.”

“Do you propose to stay here as well?” Richard Serrailler said. “If so you could probably do with a whisky.”

Simon hesitated. There was his old room, though he had last slept in it after one of his mother’s choral society suppers at which he had been roped in to help.

“You’ve absolutely scootly got to stay,” Sam said. “We can discuss how the ride collapsed, I’ve been thinking about it—you see, probably what started it was—”

“Sam, can we do this later?”

“OK, when? It’s very interesting actually, how buildings and things sometimes do just collapse. Occasionally it’s a structural defect but it can be an earth tremor. Do you think there was an earth tremor?”

“It’s a possibility but I haven’t had anything like that confirmed, Sambo.”

“It would be on the Internet, there’s a very good seismological website, we could look it up.”

“We could, but not now. I’m going to have a drink with your grandfather and what I really need is for you to encourage your mother to get to bed. She’s had a bit of a shock, you know.”

“Right. I understand. Shock can be delayed, did you know that? In older people anyway. Mum, I think you might have shock and need to get some sleep now. When people have had a shock they need rest—I expect even I might need a bit, my arm’s started to hurt again.”

“Si, one end of the curtain pole in our room has come down, can you sort it?”

He followed them up. Sam had gone quiet.

“I feel as if I’m climbing the north face of the Eiger,” Cat said.

“I know about that, you see the north face—”

“Save it, Sam.”

“Oh. That’s quite a lot of things we have to discuss tomorrow, there’s the possibility of an earth tremor, the structural weakness of fairground rides, the c”

“Relative steepness of a flight of stairs versus the north face of the Eiger. Scoot into the blue bathroom, I’ve put all our stuff in there.”

“Oh pooh, I like the big bathroom best, can’t I use that, I always did when Granny was here and I know it’s Grandpa and Judith’s bathroom now but they won’t mind and c”

“Sam, I’ve had enough. I’m exhausted and I need my bed. Bathroom. Go!”

He went.

*

As he was lifting the end of the curtain pole, Simon glanced at the double bed where Chris lay, curled on his side. His scalp looked raw. The hair had been shaved and there was a long line of sutures curving across his head.

“He’ll be like this till nine or so. He’s on some pretty knockout stuff.”

His brother-in-law looked different, Simon thought, and not only because of his head. He seemed to be far away in another place. Simon looked away.

“Poor Dad,” Cat said. “Too much to cope with.”

“Dad? Christ, he’s not the one you should worry about.”

“Judith c”

“Oh, sorry, yes. Broken leg. Nasty that.”

“She was bloody lucky. Sam’s right. They were both bloody lucky.”

“I dare say she’ll be well looked after here, dressing gown behind the bathroom door and all.”

“You’re an A1 shit sometimes. I don’t know you as a brother when you come out with things like that. I can’t deal with you now but don’t even think of saying anything to Dad. Oh, get out.”

He felt as he had felt as a small boy, tempted to say something, knowing it should not be said, unable to stop himself. Something goaded him on. Of course he should not have said what he did, not now, not to Cat. Not ever. But from the moment Sam had mentioned the bathroom he had known that he would. The goad had pricked and pricked away.

He went downstairs, furious with himself.

“Dad?”

“In here with the decanter.”

He went into the study where Richard had stirred the remains of the fire together and was sitting beside it. He looked younger, Simon thought, seeing him as he went in, not suddenly older, which was the way he should have seemed now, but suddenly younger.

“I’d better get back actually, they’re bound to call me and I’ve got to be in for a press conference first thing.”

His father glanced round. “You know best.”

Nothing more. If he had said, no, stay, I want to talk to you, we don’t see enough of one another, we don’t talk enough c No. He wouldn’t stay, not now.

“Goodnight.”

As he turned the car, he saw the study light go out.