e took her back to Dunoon.

After a short private service at St Mary’s Roman Catholic Cathedral in Sydney he flew her body to the sheep station at Coonamble. He sat next to her coffin the entire way. Shane accompanied him.

His mother and Jason followed in Jason’s corporate jet, bringing with them Father Ryan and Barry Graves.

Once Philip’s plane had landed, he had her coffin driven up to the manor where it was placed in the long gallery amidst the portraits of his ancestors. It rested there overnight.

The following morning dawned bright and clear with a sky vividly blue and spotless, and in the brilliant, shimmering sunlight the gardens and grounds of Dunoon looked magnificent. But Philip saw nothing. He was numb with shock, doing the things he had to do automatically, by rote, and, for the most part, he was oblivious to those around him.

To carry her coffin on the last stage of its journey he chose as the pallbearers Shane, Jason, Barry, Tim, the station manager, and Matt and Joe, the grooms, who had become devoted to her in the brief time she had lived there.

At exactly ten o’clock on Saturday morning, the six men shouldered her coffin and carried it out of the manor. They followed Father Ryan down the winding path that cut through the spacious lawns and flower gardens and led to the little private cemetery beyond. It was in a sheltered glade surrounded by trees and enclosed by an old stone wall. Here Andrew McGill, the founding father, was buried along with his wife, Tessa, and all of the other Australian McGills who were descended from them, their graves marked by simple marble headstones.

Philip had chosen the plot next to Paul for his wife.

The first day he had ever set eyes on Madelana O’Shea she had been gazing at Paul’s portrait, had later said that she thought it was the great man himself suddenly sprung to life when she had seen him hovering in the doorway of the gallery. Maddy had often teasingly remarked that he looked like a riverboat gambler, just as his grandfather had, and she had been as fascinated by Paul McGill as she had been by Emma Harte.

And so he thought it appropriate, very fitting, that her final resting place was with his grandfather. In the most curious way, it was oddly comforting to him to know that they lay close together in this patch of earth.

The priest and Philip and the pallbearers finally came to a standstill by the open grave. It was in a corner of the cemetery, shaded by the lovely golden elms and lemon-scented eucalyptus trees she had come to love, just as she had come to love Dunoon and the glorious land upon which it stood, and which had so reminded her of her native Kentucky.

Daisy was waiting with Mrs Carr, the housekeeper, the household staff, and the other men and women who worked on the sheep station, their spouses and their children. Everyone was dressed in black, or wore black armbands on their most sombre clothes, and the women and children carried sprays of flowers or held single blooms in their hands. And as they stood with their heads bowed, listening to Father Ryan conduct the Roman Catholic burial service, they openly wept for Madelana, whom they had held in great affection, and who had lived with them at Dunoon for far too short a time.

Philip’s grief had turned inward.

It was frozen inside him, and he was dry eyed throughout the ceremony. He stood stiffly, his body rigid, his hands clenched at his sides. There was a grim moroseness about him, and his vivid, cornflower eyes were hollow, empty, his handsome face thinner, wiped clean of all expression. He was a forbidding figure, and there was an aloofness about him that held everyone at bay.

When the final prayer for Maddy’s soul had been offered up by Father Ryan, and her coffin had been lowered into the earth, he accepted the whispered, heartfelt condolences of his employees, then strode swiftly back to the manor.

Shane and Daisy hurried after him. He spoke not at all until they were inside the house. Turning to them in the great hall, he muttered, ‘I can’t stay here. I’m going, Ma. I have to be by myself.’

Daisy looked up at her son. Her face was drawn, white, her eyes red from crying. She touched his arm gently. ‘Please don’t let it be like it was when your father was killed in the avalanche, Philip. You must get the pain out, you must grieve for your Maddy. Only then will you be able to function properly again, go on living.’

He looked at Daisy as if not seeing her. His eyes pierced right through her, focused on some distant image that was visible only to him. ‘I don’t want to live. Not without Maddy.’

‘Don’t say such a thing! You’re a young man!’ Daisy cried.

‘You don’t understand, Mother. I’ve lost everything.’

‘But there’s the baby, your daughter, Maddy’s daughter,’ Daisy said swiftly. She was wretched, heartsick, and her feelings were only too apparent on her troubled face.

Once more Philip stared right through his mother. He made no comment, swung around, crossed the entrance hall and left the manor without a backward glance.

Daisy watched him go, filled with the most enormous pain for her son. She began to weep quietly, turned to Shane. There was a dreadful helplessness about her. She did not know what to do.

Shane put his arm around her, led her into the drawing room. ‘Philip will be all right,’ he assured her. ‘He’s in shock right now, not thinking straight.’

‘Yes, I know that, Shane, but I’m so afraid for him. So is Paula,’ Daisy said tearfully. ‘She told me so yesterday when she phoned from London. She said, “He mustn’t let his grief fester inside him like he did when Daddy died. If he does, he’ll never recover from Maddy’s death.” I know exactly what she means. And she’s right of course.’

Daisy sat down on the sofa, fished around in her bag for her handkerchief, wiped her eyes, blew her nose. She glanced at Shane standing by the fireplace, added pointedly, ‘Perhaps we made a terrible mistake, stopping Paula from flying out here.’

‘No, Daisy, we didn’t! It’s much too long a trip for her to make for only three or four days! Philip was the first one to say so. He was quite adamant that she stayed in England.’

‘She might have been able to help him. They’ve always been close, Shane, you know that.’

‘True, she might,’ Shane agreed, softening his tone. ‘On the other hand, I don’t think that even her presence would have diminished the shock, eased his suffering. It’s the terrible suddenness, the unexpectedness, that has so thrown him, quite aside from his awful pain. And that’s perfectly understandable, when you consider that less than a week ago Maddy was in blooming health, awaiting the birth of their child. Everything was wonderful for them, and they were so much in love. And then wham! Overnight she’s dead. He’s been hit between the eyes, he’s literally staggering from this tragedy, Daisy. But he will recoup. He has to…he’s no alternative. We just have to give him time.’

‘I don’t know,’ Daisy said doubtfully, ‘he worshipped Maddy.’

‘That he did,’ Jason said, striding into the drawing room, hurrying to be at Daisy’s side. ‘And he’ll suffer for a very long period. But Shane is correct, darlin’, Philip will recover. Eventually. Somehow we all do, don’t we?’

‘Yes,’ Daisy whispered, remembering David.

Jason seated himself next to her, placed an arm around her comfortingly. ‘Now, sweet’art,’ he went on, ‘try not to worry about him.’

‘I can’t help it.’ She looked at Shane. ‘Where do you think he’s gone?’

‘Most likely to Sydney…to be by himself. Like an animal in pain he wants to lick his wounds in private.’

Jason volunteered, ‘Philip has a huge conglomerate to run and he’s very conscientious, Daisy. You’ll see, he’ll be at the helm on Monday, as usual, and if I know him as well as I think I do, he’ll throw himself into business with a vengeance.’

‘And the work will be his salvation,’ Shane interjected quietly. ‘He’ll use it as an antidote to grief yet again, as he did when David was killed, and it’ll help him to keep going until the healing process starts.’

‘I hope he will come to grips with his sorrow, and that he’ll make some sort of life for himself in the future,’ Daisy said.

She looked from her husband to her son-in-law with a worried frown. ‘Philip can be so odd. He’s been an enigma to many people for years, including me at times.’ She sighed, and then unexpectedly her eyes filled again. ‘Poor Maddy, I loved that girl so very much. But then we all did, didn’t we? She was like a second daughter to me. Why did she have to die?’ Daisy shook her head, and before either man could comment, she continued softly, ‘But it’s always the good ones who go, isn’t it? It’s all so unfair…so unfair. Life’s cruel…’ Tears spilled from Daisy’s eyes, trickled down her cheeks.

Jason drew her into his arms. ‘Ah me darlin’, me darlin’,’ he murmured, wanting to soothe her, to calm her. He was at a loss, had no words. He knew only too well that words were cold comfort at a time like this.

After a moment or two, Daisy took hold of herself, sat up straighter, blew her nose, patted her eyes. Her expression was one of sudden resolve, and she said in her bravest voice, ‘We must be as strong as we possibly can to help Philip pull through this tragedy.’

‘He knows we’re here for him,’ Shane said, giving Daisy his most cheerful smile, trying to be as reassuring as he could. ‘Take heart.’

‘Yes, yes, I will.’ She turned to face Jason. ‘Where is Father Ryan?’

‘He’s in the library with Tim and his wife, and some of the others. Mrs Carr is serving coffee and cake, and drinks for those who prefer something stronger.’

‘How rude of us! We should be there!’ Daisy announced, immediately rising. ‘We must stand in for Philip.’ She hurried out.

Jason followed on her heels with Shane in his wake.

Privately, Shane was desperately worried about Philip, despite his encouraging words to Daisy a moment before. He could not wait to leave Dunoon on Monday morning. He was impatient to get back to Sydney, wanted to be close to Philip, to keep a watchful eye on him.

No one ever knew where Philip had gone that weekend after he left Dunoon with such abruptness on the day of Maddy’s funeral.

When Shane had tried to reach him later that night at the Point Piper house, Mrs Ordens had said he was not there. Nor was he at the penthouse in the McGill Tower, according to José, the Filipino houseman.

Whether or not these two were lying on behalf of their employer, Shane could not quite determine; he did not even try very hard, knowing that if Philip wanted to hide behind the domestic help he would do so. He could be as stubborn as Paula. It was a family trait inherited from their grandmother, Emma Harte.

And then, on Monday morning, Philip had walked into his suite of offices in the McGill Tower as he always did at seven-thirty precisely, and called Maggie and Barry into his inner sanctum for their usual early morning confab.

There was an air of such cold containment about him, and he appeared to be so formidable in his iron-clad grief, that both Maggie and Barry were intimidated, dare not make a consoling gesture towards him, or venture any kind of personal comment.

As Jason had predicted, Philip threw himself into work, with a fury that defied description. As the days passed his hours grew longer and longer. He rarely went upstairs to the penthouse before nine or nine-thirty in the evening, where he ate a light supper prepared by the Filipino houseman. He then retired to his bedroom, rose the following morning at six, was back in his office at seven-thirty, never once deviating from this relentless schedule. He had no social life, no contact with any persons other than his employees. In fact, he shunned everyone who was not directly involved with him in business, including his mother and Shane, to whom he was the closest. They became increasingly troubled by his behaviour, but were helpless to do anything.

Barry Graves, who was with Philip most of the time during business hours, kept expecting him to make some sort of reference to Maddy, or to her death, or to the child, but he never did. And, to Barry, he appeared to become colder and more introverted as time passed. There was a sheathed anger in him that Barry knew would have to erupt in some form or another before very long.

Finally, in desperation, Barry called Daisy at her Rose Bay house one afternoon, and spoke to her confidentially, and at length, about her son and his concern for him.

The minute she hung up on Barry, Daisy telephoned Shane, who had just returned from a two-day trip to Melbourne and Adelaide, where he had been visiting the O’Neill hotels.

‘I have to come into Sydney today…in a short while, in fact. May I pop in to see you, Shane?’ Daisy asked.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘That’ll be fine.’ He glanced at the clock on his desk. It was exactly five minutes past three. ‘Come by in about an hour. We’ll have tea together and a nice chat, Daisy dear.’

‘Thanks, Shane, I appreciate it.’

Promptly at four, his secretary showed his mother-in-law into his private office in the Sydney-O’Neill Hotel. Shane rose, went around the desk to greet her.

After kissing her on the cheek, he held her away, eyed her closely. ‘You look lovely, as usual, Daisy. But troubled,’ he said. ‘About Philip,’ he added, leading her over to the sofa in front of the wall of plate glass overlooking Sydney Harbour.

Daisy made no comment.

They sat down together. She reached out, took hold of his hand, stared into his face. She had known him all his life, since the day he was born, and she loved him like a child of her own.

She said, after a moment, ‘You’ve always been such a good friend to me, Shane, not to mention a wonderful son-in-law. You were a great comfort to me when Mother died, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget how caring you were, and supportive, at that most awful time in my life – when David was killed. You’ve been a rock for me, and for Paula, too. Now, yet again, I must ask you to help me, to do something else for me.’

‘You know I’ll do anything I can, Daisy.’

‘Go to Philip,’ she said, leaning closer to Shane with some urgency. ‘Talk to him. Try to get through to him. Make him see that he’ll become ill if he goes on like this.’

‘But he won’t see me!’ Shane exclaimed. ‘It takes me all my time to get through to him on the phone! You know I ring him every day. Maggie literally has to force him to take my calls. It’s one hell of a tussle, I don’t mind telling you. And when I ask to see him, beg almost, he hides behind pressure of work, business meetings, and the like.’

‘Oh yes, I know, I’m having the same problems with him myself. And encountering the same type of resistance. But I believe you’re one of the two people who can get through to Philip. The other is Paula, but she’s not here. So it has to be you. Please, please do this for me, and for Philip. Help him to help himself,’ she pleaded, her desperation surfacing.

Shane was silent, ruminative.

Daisy said swiftly, ‘Go over to the penthouse tonight! Force your way in! Actually, that won’t be necessary. I’ll phone José, alert him that you’re coming. He’ll let you in, and once you’re inside the penthouse, Philip will see you, I’m sure of that.’

‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll go. I’ll do my best.’

‘Thank you, Shane.’ She tried to smile without success. ‘Barry’s been helpful,’ Daisy now explained. ‘But there’s only so far he can go with Philip. He’s awfully worried about him. He says Philip’s full of anger. Rage, really. Rage that Maddy died. He doesn’t seem able to accept it, or place her death in any kind of perspective.’

‘It’s been the worst shock to him…a very severe shock.’

Daisy opened her mouth, closed it, bit her inner lip. Then she said softly, ‘Oh Shane, he hasn’t even been to see the baby since Jason and I brought her to our house from the hospital, or asked me about her either.’

Shane was not altogether surprised to hear this. ‘Give him time on that one,’ he said, and paused thoughtfully. He chose his words with care when he added, ‘He may well blame the baby for Maddy’s death, and therefore himself, since he is the father of the child. Remember what Alan Stimpson said – that Maddy’s pregnancy might have caused her to have the brain haemorrhage. I haven’t forgotten how appalled Philip looked.’

Daisy nodded. ‘Neither have I, and I’d thought of that, too. Blaming himself, I mean.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Barry says Philip sinks into the most awful depressions. Maddy’s death is a terrible scar on his heart, one that will take months to heal.’

If it ever does, Shane thought gloomily, although he did not voice this opinion to his mother-in-law, seeing no reason to worry her unduly. Instead, he said, ‘Now, tell me about the baby, Daisy.’

Instantly her face changed, lit up. ‘Oh Shane, she’s the most adorable little thing. Actually she reminds me of your Linnet and Emily’s Natalie. She’s definitely going to be another Botticelli redhead…she’s a real little Harte through and through.’

Shane smiled and nodded and listened, giving Daisy every ounce of his attention. He knew how important it was for her to speak about her new granddaughter, the long-awaited heiress to the great McGill empire. Poor kid, he thought suddenly at one moment, she’s come into this world under a cloud and carrying a rotten burden…her mother’s death. Shane knew then that he had to do everything within his power to make Philip accept and love the baby. For both of their sakes. The father needed the daughter just as much as the daughter needed him.

After Daisy finally left, Shane waded through an enormous amount of paperwork that had been accumulating over the past week. He then penned a quick but loving note to Paula, and wrote postcards to Lorne, Tessa, Patrick and Linnet. He finished just before six o’clock, when he went into a meeting with Graham Johnson, managing director of the O’Neill hotel chain in Australia, and three of the other top executives in the company. The main subject on the agenda was the new O’Neill hotel currently under construction in Perth. At seven-thirty Shane brought the meeting to a close, and he and Graham walked over to the Wentworth for dinner. When Shane was in Sydney he always made it a point to visit other hotels in the city. He liked to take stock of the décor, food, drink, service and conditions in general, in order to make comparisons between the competition and his own hotel. He had always liked the Wentworth, and he and Graham spent a pleasant couple of hours together over a delicious meal of roast baby lamb with the most succulent vegetables, and a bottle of local red wine that was excellent. For the most part they spoke about business, covering various aspects of the new hotel in Perth. Shane agreed to fly out to Western Australia with Graham the following week, before returning to London.

It was ten o’clock when the two men exited the hotel. Graham took a taxi home, and Shane strode off in the direction of Bridge Street where the McGill Tower was located. He needed the walk and the fresh air, after being cooped up in the executive offices of the hotel all day; also, he wanted to be certain Philip had finished dinner and was relaxing when he arrived at the penthouse. Daisy had suggested that he get there around ten-thirty and he had taken her advice.

A little while later, as he approached the black-glass skyscraper, Shane steeled himself for the impending encounter with his brother-in-law. He knew it was going to be difficult – painful, emotional and upsetting. Riding up in the elevator he asked himself what kind of wisdom he could offer Philip in his pain and sorrow, and he realized that he had none. All he could do was talk to the other man with compassion, give him his understanding, his support and his love.

As prearranged by Daisy, the houseman, José, let Shane into the apartment immediately he rang the doorbell.

The Filipino showed him into the beautiful cream-and-white living room that floated high over the city. It was dimly lit tonight, permitting the spectacular view to dominate. Bowing politely, the houseman said, ‘I tell Mr Amory you here, sir.’

‘Thank you, José.’ Shane strolled over to a chair and sat down.

A split second later Joséwas back, bowing again. ‘Mr Amory says please wait.’

‘Yes, all right. Thanks again.’

The Filipino smiled and bowed and hurried out on silent feet.

After fifteen minutes had elapsed, Shane grew restless, wondering what was keeping Philip. He got to his feet, walked over to the bar set against the far wall, poured himself a small cognac. He carried this back to the chair, where once more he sat down to wait. Sipping the drink, he mentally prepared himself for Philip, seeking the right words to use, the proper approach to take with him. One thing was vital. No matter what else he accomplished tonight, he must persuade Philip to go to Daisy’s house with him tomorrow. To see the baby. He had made that promise to Daisy, and he himself knew how important it was that Philip put aside any feeling of blame, all guilt. Shane was convinced the baby was the key to Philip’s well being. Once he accepted her he would love her, and only then would he begin to recover from his grief for Maddy, the loss of her.

It was another fifteen minutes before Philip finally emerged from his study. He stood hovering in the entrance to the living room, silently staring at Shane, his demeanour morose.

Shane rose at once, took a step forward, then stopped abruptly with a quick intake of breath. It took all of his self-control not to exclaim in concern when he saw his brother-in-law’s appearance. Philip had lost weight, and there was an air of exhaustion about him, but it was his face that so appalled. It was ravaged. The cheeks were hollow, gaunt, the bright blue eyes dulled and red-rimmed, the purplish shadows beneath resembling dark bruises. The most startling thing of all, perhaps, was his black hair. It had turned pure white on either side of his temples.

There had never been any question in Shane’s mind that Philip had taken Maddy’s death badly; he had merely miscalculated the extent of his agony. The man was lacerated inside, suffering more horribly than even Shane had imagined. He understood then that whatever exterior equanimity Philip may display to the world it was utterly fraudulent. His cold containment and aloofness, so described by Barry, were his only defences against total collapse. All this instantly became clear to Shane as he regarded Philip, and his heart went out to him.

Shane moved forward, and the two men clasped hands.

Philip said, ‘I almost sent you away.’ He let go of Shane’s hand, shrugged wearily, walked to the bar where he poured himself a large vodka, added ice cubes from the silver bucket.

‘But there was no point, I suddenly realized that,’ he went on without turning around. ‘I knew you’d be back tomorrow or the day after, and that my mother would come. And Jason. And then it occurred to me that one of you might have the insane idea of dragging Paula out here, so I decided I’d better see you…’ Philip did not bother to finish his sentence. His voice was drained. He was worn out from lack of sleep, and his tiredness became apparent as he lethargically ambled over to the sofa and sat down. His usual vitality had fled.

Shane observed him quietly for a moment, then murmured, ‘It’s been three weeks since Maddy was buried, and in that time you’ve seen me only once, Daisy only once. Your mother is worried about you, Philip, and so am I, for that matter.’

‘Don’t be! I’m okay!’ Philip said snappishly, with more spirit than he had displayed thus far.

‘That’s not true! You’re not okay!’ Shane shot back. ‘Oh for God’s sake, I’m fine.’

‘I don’t think you are. And, very frankly, you need your family around you at a time like this. You need me and Daisy and Jason. Don’t shun us, please. We want to help you, Philip, to comfort you as best we can.’

‘There is no comfort for me. I’ll survive, everyone survives, I suspect. But the sorrow will stay with me forever…she was so young, don’t you see? One expects old people to die…that’s the life cycle. When we bury the old, time heals the pain eventually. But when we bury the young, the pain never, ever goes away.’

‘It will, please believe me, it will,’ Shane answered in his most compassionate voice. ‘And Maddy wouldn’t want you to be like this. She would want you to take strength from –’

‘I don’t want you to make one religious statement to me, Shane!’ Philip exclaimed with a flash of irritation.

‘I wasn’t going to,’ Shane replied gently.

Philip let out a long wearisome sigh, leaned back against the sofa, closed his eyes.

A silence drifted between the two men for a short while.

Suddenly, Philip got to his feet, went over to the bar, plopped more ice into his glass. He gave Shane a most penetrating stare, said in the bleakest of voices, ‘I can’t remember anything about the past year, Shane. That’s the most horrendous thing. It’s…it’s…blank. She’s gone as if she never existed in my life.’ His voice broke, and he said hoarsely, ‘I can’t remember her… I can’t remember Maddy.’

‘That’s the shock,’ Shane was quick to say, speaking with assurance, knowing this was the truth. ‘Really, it’s only the shock, Philip. She’ll come back to you.’

Philip shook his head with vehemence. ‘No, she won’t. I know she won’t.’

‘The body is dead, but you have the spirit,’ Shane told him. ‘She’s alive in you. Her spirit is in you, and in the child. Only her body’s gone. Please believe that. Maddy is in your heart and in your memories, and she will be with you always. And there is the child.’

Philip made no response.

He moved away from the bar, slowly crossed the room to the window, moving like an old man. He stood looking out. He had listened carefully to Shane, had absorbed his words. Now he was trying to come to terms with them, to accept them. Were they true? Was Maddy’s spirit in him? Would she be with him always?

He sighed. He found no solace in anything Shane had just said to him. He had acknowledged the finality of death days ago, had acknowledged that his Maddy was gone from him forever. She had meant everything to him. She had been his life. Maddy had made the pain inside him stop, and just thinking about her had warmed his heart. Now he could not even recall her face in his mind’s eye. He had to look at a photograph to remember her. He did not understand why this was so. He had loved her so very much.

He snapped his eyes tightly shut, resting his aching head against the glass. He had killed her. He had killed the woman he loved more than life itself through the very act of love…

Shane said something, and Philip opened his eyes, but he did not answer. He had not been listening to his brother-in-law.

He stared at the night sky. How magnificent it was tonight, a deep midnight blue, velvet smooth, cloudless, filled with diamond stars and the bright, winking lights of the city’s many skyscrapers. And off towards the eastern suburbs the sky was a curious amethyst spreading into the most vibrant of golds and a warm, glowing red.

It will be a beautiful day tomorrow, Philip thought absently. Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, red sky at morning, shepherd’s warning. How many times had his grandmother said that to him when he was a little boy growing up. Emma had always been fascinated by skies and the light in them. Unexpectedly, the beauty of this evening’s sky brought a lump to his throat and he did not comprehend exactly why. And then he remembered. Maddy, too, had forever commented about the clarity of light, cloud formations, the changing colours of the day as it moved into night.

Suddenly Philip stiffened, stepped closer to the window, frowning, his eyes focused on a dark cloud mass moving up above the skyscrapers several blocks away. How odd it looked. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. ‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed a split second later. ‘Oh my God!’

Shane was on his feet, hurrying over to him. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t you feel well?’

Philip swung around, grabbed Shane’s arm, pulled him over to the window. ‘Look! Over there! The black smoke billowing up, the red glow. Oh Christ, Shane, you’ve got a fire! The Sydney-O’Neill is on fire!’

Shane tensed. The breath caught in his throat as he followed Philip’s gaze. He did not know the Sydney skyline as well as his brother-in-law, and it took him a moment to distinguish the smoke, find its source. He knew at once that it was his hotel going up in flames. He had just located the huge expanse of glass window-wall that fronted his famous Orchid Room.

Without a word he pivoted, shot across the floor. Philip followed fast on his heels.

Together they took the elevator down, staring at each other speechlessly. As the elevator doors slid open both men hit the lobby simultaneously, raced out into Bridge Street.

They began to run in the direction of the Sydney-O’Neill, the sound of their pounding feet drowned out by the screaming sirens of the three fire engines hurtling past them at breakneck speed.