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Flames licked at the building, greedy as the tongues of teenage lovers. They curled out from the windows above the shopfront and up to the gutters, fierce in their hunger, intent on conquest.

The smell of burning filled Harry Devlin’s sinuses. Smoke stung his eyes and the back of his throat.

‘Don’t even think of going in there. ’

‘For the love of Jases,’ said Finbar Rogan. ‘What d’you think I have for brains? I’d not try to force my way inside if the missus herself was trapped the other side of that door. ’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Come to think of it, if she was — I’d be chucking in a match or two myself. ’

A thunderous splintering of glass made them duck in a reflex of self-defence. Straightening up, Harry saw the first-floor panes disintegrate. He shielded his face as a thousand shards showered the paving all around.

Finbar cried out in pain and stumbled to the ground. Seeing blood trickle from a cut on the Irishman’s cheek, Harry didn’t hesitate. In a matter of seconds, he dragged Finbar back towards the shelter of a doorway on the other side of the street. There they leaned against each other for support, fighting for breath as the fumes leaked into their lungs.

The narrowness of Williamson Lane intensified the heat and Harry felt the skin of his face tingle. Finbar groaned and wiped the blood away with his sleeve.

‘Thanks for that, mate,’ he gasped. ‘So now we know what we’re in for when we go to Hell. ’

‘Speak for yourself. ’

‘Listen, you’re a solicitor. Even I have a better chance of Heaven. ’

Harry couldn’t help grinning at his client. Even as his business blazed on this cold October night, Finbar showed no sign of fear or despair. He would always scoff at any unkindness of the Fates.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’ll live to claim the insurance, don’t you fret. ’

Never before had Harry witnessed at such close quarters the raging passion of a fire out of control. A dozen viewings of Mrs Danvers perishing in the ruins of Hitchcock’s Manderley had not prepared him for this; nor could he have imagined that the city centre could be so claustrophobic. He had a dizzy sense of everything closing in on him.

Disaster had begun to seduce late night Liverpool’s passers-by, excited by the sound and fury. ‘Better than Blackpool bloody illuminations!’ someone bellowed from the safety of the adjoining square.

The wail of a siren pierced the hubbub, growing louder as each second passed. Harry could hear the fire engines’ roar and saw people pressing back into the shadows, making way as first one, then another of the vehicles rounded the corner and pulled up with a shriek twenty yards away.