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a duck pond in a rubber dinghy, while she steered her life on a fast, direct course to a clearly mapped destination. And now here I am, unable to speak or see or move, let alone help you or Jenny or Adam, head partially shaved, in ahideous hospital nightgown – and she’s sailed in, competent and capable, at the helm.
    My nanny voice would be a lot happier if I were more like her. You reassured me, touchingly, that you wouldn’t be.
    A nurse is with her and I see they’re debating the phone, with Sarah flashing her warrant card, but the nurse is clearly adamant and Sarah leaves again. You spot her as she leaves, but stay with me.
    We return to that camping trip to Skye – to arching blue-grey skies and still blue-grey water and huge blue-grey mountains, their soft colours so alike that they are almost indistinguishable from one another; to Jenny and Adam and you and me, softly coloured, not separated from each other. A family.
    We leave my ward and Skye, and I see Jenny waiting for me in the corridor.
    ‘So, what’s happening to you?’ she asks me, her voice anxious.
    ‘They’re doing scans and what not,’ I say.
    She hasn’t been giving us romantic privacy, I realise, but medical privacy; like me staying out of the room now when I take her to the GP’s.
    ‘And that’s it?’ she asks.
    ‘So far, yes. Pretty much.’
    She doesn’t question me more closely – afraid, I think, to know any more.
    ‘Aunt Sarah’s in the family room,’ she says. ‘She’s been talking to someone at the police station. It’s funny, but I think she knows I’m here. I mean, she kept kind of glancing around at me. Like she’d caught a glimpse.’
    It’ll be sod’s law if the only person who has any real inkling of Jenny and me turns out to be your sister.
    It must be late evening now and in the family room, someone – who? – has brought a toothbrush and pyjamas for you and put them neatly at one end of the single bed.
    Sarah closes the phone as she sees you.
    ‘Adam’s at a school-friend’s house,’ Sarah says. ‘Georgina’s on her way from Oxfordshire and will pick him up. I thought it would be best if he was in his own bed tonight and he’s particularly close to Grace’s mum, isn’t he?’
    In all of this Sarah has found space and time to think about Adam. Has had the kindness to worry about him. I’ve never been grateful to her before.
    But you can’t take Adam on board, not with me and Jenny already weighing you down this heavily.
    ‘Have you spoken to the police?’ you ask her.
    She nods and you wait for her to tell you.
    ‘We’re taking statements. They’ll keep me fully informed. They know she’s my niece. The fire investigation team are working at the scene of the fire.’
    Her voice is police officer, but I see her reach out her hand and that you take it.
    ‘They’ve said that the fire started in the Art room on the second floor. Because the building was old, it had ceiling, wall and roof voids – basically spaces connecting different rooms and parts of the school – which means that smoke and fire could travel extremely fast. Fire doors and other precautions couldn’t stop its spread. Which is one reason it could overwhelm the whole building as quickly as it could.’
    ‘And the arson?’ you ask, and I can hear the word cutting at your mouth.
    ‘It is likely, more than likely, that an accelerant was used, probably white spirit, which causes a distinctive smoke recognised by a firefighter at the scene. As it’s an Art room, you’d expect to have some white spirit, but they think it was a large quantity. The Art teacher says that she keeps the white spirit in a locked cupboard on the right-hand side of the Art room. We think the fire was started in the left-hand corner. A hydrocarbon vapour detector should give us more information tomorrow.’
    ‘So there’s no doubt?’ you ask.
    ‘I’m sorry, Mike.’
    ‘What else?’ you ask. You need to know
everything
. A man who has to be in