Hamish, it turned out, had led on the others.

“Hamish used to take stuff up there,” Billy said.

“Stuff?”

“Lager. Ciggies and things. He even had a seat, so he could sit on top of the lift and ride up and down.” Even now, even after all that had happened, Billy smiled faintly at the bravado and daring of his brother, and Jane realized anew how very, very difficult it was to restrain boys from following the pack, all the way into the jaws of death.

“But it was Hamish’s fault,” Billy said.

“It was?”

“He saw that planet thing.” Billy pointed. “When it flared up, like. Hamish saw it through a window. That’s why he let go of the doors, and the lift started going, and Joe fell down.”

This boy will have to live with this. “Billy, Hamish is really just a kid too. Nobody’s to blame—”

“Hamish says it’s not his fault. It’s the fault of that.” And Billy’s small, grubby hand pointed straight at Venus.

…And elsewhere in Edinburgh, a young policewoman called Morag Decker was pulling on her uniform, about to start her tour of duty. She was on attachment to a community policing unit that night, and would be working with drug addicts. Not an assignment she was looking forward to, but a major problem in Edinburgh. When Venus had first flared up it had caused a problem, as the full-Moon types had crawled out from under their rocks to howl at the new light in the sky; and tomorrow the local Emergency Planning Officer was going to brief them on Scottish Office guidelines on radiation poisoning and other stuff… But all that seemed to be fading, like any other nine-day wonder. For tonight her head was full of apprehension, and she tried to comfort herself with thoughts about the video and takeaway Chinese meal and bottle of wine she’d treat herself to tomorrow night, and she scarcely noticed Venus any more…