The reporter interrupted. ‘But the fire engines couldn’t get to the school?’

‘I am not aware of the logistics of them getting to the school, I just know that the alarm went immediately through to the fire station. Two weeks ago some of the same firefighters came to give a talk to our year-one children and let them look at their fire engine. We never dreamt, any of us, that…’

She trailed off. The lipgloss and assembly voice wasn’t working. Under that carefully put-together frontage she was starting to fall apart. I liked her for it. As the camera panned away from her and back to the blackened school it paused on the undamaged bronze statue of a child.

We caught up with you in the corridor that leads to the burns unit. I could see you tense, trying to ready yourself for this, but I knew nothing could prepare you for what you’d see inside. Next to me I felt Jenny draw back.

‘I don’t want to go in.’

‘Of course. That’s fine.’

You went through the swing doors into the burns unit with the young doctor.

‘You should be with Dad,’ Jenny said.

‘But-’

‘At some level he’ll know you’re with him.’

‘I don’t want to leave you on your own.’

‘I don’t need babysitting, really. I am a babysitter nowadays, remember? Besides, I need you to keep me updated on my progress. Or lack of.’

‘Alright. But I won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere.’

I couldn’t bear to have to search for her again.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘And I won’t talk to strangers. Promise.’

I joined you as you were taken into a small office, grateful that they were doing this by degrees. A doctor held out his hand to you. I thought he looked almost indecently healthy, his brown skin glowing against the white walls of his office, his dark eyes shining.

‘My name’s Dr Sandhu. I am the consultant in charge of your daughter’s care.’

I noticed that as he shook your hand his other hand patted your arm, and I knew he must be a parent too.