‘We’re crawling out of the room,’ he croaked. He had them cradled against him, but he pushed them towards the door. ‘You crawl first. If I stop, then you keep going. That’s an order. Now!’

And he shoved them forward out of that burning room, along the passage, into the kitchen and the hall beyond.

‘Henry… William…’

Erin met them in the hall. Like Matt, she’d wrapped her sweater over her head. She’d come in as far as she dared and was waiting, crouched at the kitchen door. As they crawled from the passage, she hauled them into her arms and tugged them outside.

Matt followed. He crawled four feet from the front door and collapsed unconscious onto the porch.

The most beautiful pair of blue eyes was gazing down into his.

‘Do you think he’ll live?’

There was something over his mouth and nose-something plastic and hard, and he tried to push it away.

‘Keep it there, Matt.’ He recognised the voice-Rob McDonald, the local police sergeant. ‘You’ve got a lungful of smoke and we’re giving you oxygen. Yes, Erin, if he’s capable of fighting off a mask, then I reckon he’ll live.’

Matt thought that through, and it seemed to make sense. The gorgeous eyes were still looking at him. It was funny how he’d never noticed them before. Erin was grimy and smoke-stained and still looking frazzled, but suddenly he thought she looked the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Just like that butterfly at the fête, he thought dazedly. Gorgeous!

Life was gorgeous!

If she hadn’t come in to find them, he never would have got the boys out, he acknowledged. It had taken all his strength just to crawl those last few yards and he couldn’t have propelled the twins any further.

‘The twins?’ It was a muffled whisper under the mask, but Erin knew what he was saying.