I got out of the chair and moved forward by instinct. Incredibly, January was ahead of me feeling for the hole in the wall. We went through a cloud of billowing, acrid smoke and I heard people coughing and swearing. Flames licked along at floor level and then shot up to envelop the far wall.

‘Everybody out!’ January bellowed. ‘Forget the stuff, just get out. Trudi, where…?’

‘She’s okay,’ a man said. ‘Peter, Christ, your back…’ He collapsed into a fit of coughing and January crouched to lift him and push him forward.

I blundered around looking for people or bits of them. It seemed incredible that everyone could have survived the blast. The smoke was getting thicker and I realised I was holding my breath against it and the grit and dust. I couldn’t stay there much longer. January was coughing, trying to cover his mouth and doing the same as me, feeling with his hands and feet. I remembered that he’d served in Vietnam and had probably been in worse than this.

‘They’re all out,’ he gasped.

‘No.’ I felt something soft and still down by a desk near the shattered air conditioner. Blood from January’s back fell on me as he bent over and helped me to pick the body up. I got a solid grip and we staggered out of the room into the smoke-filled corridor. I was sobbing for breath, trying not to breathe the smoke in and wanting to cough my lungs up. January pulled at my sleeve to guide me to the stairs and the door to the street.

We burst out into the fresh air and I sucked it down in great gusts. Someone tried to take my burden from me and I fought them off, twisting my body and screaming. I couldn’t see anything through my tear-flooded eyes and all I could hear were shouts and breaking glass and then the wail of sirens.

January’s voice was close beside me, thin and harsh but still commanding. ‘Put her down, Cliff. Put her down.’