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They'd reached another door at a deserted nurses' station. The door wasn't locked. ‘Here,' said the orderly fishing in his pocket and bringing out a ten- and twenty-dollar bill. ‘For taxi fare. You gotta hurry.'

‘Okay. Thanks.'

‘Is your wife seeing someone?'

‘What?'

Daniel turned to the orderly but he was already heading back towards the ward. Daniel grabbed the top of his pants and raced along the corridor and out the front door of the hospital in his socks.

The shower, once called a hens' night, was in full swing. Rosemarie had insisted on margaritas and things had started to get sloppy. Those of Rosemarie's friends who were already married yelled tips concerning married life over a '80s music compile that included Cyndi Lauper and Madonna.

Helen's sister Leonie had left her kids with her husband Ian and come over to help. She'd commented that the music probably meant this was quite a feminist gathering really. ‘Was there a golden era of faux feminist pop, do you think?' asked Helen, tipsy herself.

‘Right from the start, share the chores.'

‘Right,' said Rosemarie.

‘You're not his servant.'

‘Check. Lazy bastard.'

‘And get a joint cheque account.'

‘But his wage goes into it. Not yours.'

‘Yeah. Keep some money. Men don't understand how much cosmetics cost.'

‘Or handbags.'

‘Right,' said Rosemarie. ‘Get a handbag.'

Cheers.

‘Where's the stripper, Helen!'

‘Yeah. Beefcake!'

They started slow hand clapping.

‘I didn't order a stripper,' Helen whispered to Leonie.

‘I think we better get a couple more drinks into us, or it'll be a long night.'

Everyone suddenly went quiet, looking to the lounge door.

Helen turned to see Daniel. He was bruised and dishevelled. He was panting.

‘Yeah. Get it off.'

‘What's happened?' he yelled at Helen. He looked manic. He didn't have his shoes on. ‘Where are the kids?'

‘Get it off!'

Helen went to him. ‘Daniel, what are you doing here?'

‘What's happened? What's happened to the kids?'

‘Daniel, they're upstairs asleep. What are you talking about?'

He didn't answer her. He turned and ran up the stairs, holding his pants up.

Helen turned to the women who'd gone quiet. She couldn't think of anything to say.

Leonie said, ‘Wow, Rosie, Brian must be having a doozy of a bucks' night.'

Helen followed Daniel up. He was moving from Samuel's room to Frances's. They were both asleep. He stood in the centre of the room touching her mobile made of stars. Helen went to him and laid her hand on his shoulder, but he recoiled as though stung. He looked at her in a kind of fury but went into their bedroom. The telephone was ringing.

‘Daniel?'

He didn't answer her. He picked up the landline in the bedroom and listened. ‘What's this about?' He listened again, looking at the wall and not her. ‘On my way.'

‘Who was that?'

Daniel went into the robes and got a pair of shoes and a belt. His shirt was crinkled and dirty. His pants the same.

‘What's going on?'

‘Blyte. He's real.' The same venom.

‘I never said he wasn't. I never got the chance to say he was or wasn't.'

‘I'm taking the Volvo.' He left the room.

‘Where's your car?'

He'd gone. Helen hurried down the stairs, where Leonie was waiting.

‘Can you watch the kids?' Helen gestured to the lounge too.

‘Are you sure you don't want to stay?' Leonie was worried. She was giving Helen permission. Permission to hide from whatever Daniel was going through.

Helen squeezed her sister's shoulder but followed Daniel. He hadn't even taken the keys. They were on the kitchen bench by the back door.

He came back out of the garage, patting his pockets and looking bewildered again. ‘I forgot the keys.'

She dangled them and he reached and she took them back.

‘I'll drive.'

He nodded.

When she got in and started the car, she waited.

He finally said, ‘He said he was at the factory.'

She snorted. She couldn't help it. But he didn't react. They drove in a cold silence.

A glass smashes on the workshop floor of Hearth & Home.

He stands on the upper walkway above, looking out at the alarm which is clanging loudly. Daniel's business partner. Not wearing any pants.

‘Something old, something new, something borrowed something blue.' He's swaying as he gives his speech as though to some crowd
on the workshop floor. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the groom. Unemployed and for better or for worse ... in sickness...'

A young girl comes out of the office, doing up her blouse. She shouts, ‘This place is freezing at night.'

He turns and rests back against the railing. ‘It's a cold, cold world, Chantel. I obviously never asked you to work late before.' He's smug. He's fucked the office girl.

She scowls at him. ‘You gunna turn that thing off?' It's not love.

The alarm system wasn't here before. Another surprise for Amis.

No-pants turns and looks down again. He nods to the ground, his nods slow and drunk. He nearly falls at the top of the stairs, grabs the railing, in time, staggers down. Hairy, skinny white legs. He goes to the new console by the back, studying it blearily. Red lights flicker.

She comes down the stairs. Great legs. She's got her bag.

Brian is his name. Yes. Accountant. Getting married. Tsk tsk. Brian picks up a mallet and starts smashing at the console. It bends easily. Aluminium. It cracks. Brian smashes through to the electronics. He smashes again. The alarm stops.

He turns to the girl. ‘Yes.'

‘What?'

‘I can turn the thing off.'

‘Can you smell petrol?'

‘Anything else I can do for you, Chantel?'

‘A job would be good.'

‘I need one of those myself. How about great references?' He leers.

‘Yeah, right.'

He turns to kiss her, but she's on her way to the door. Amis lets her go.

Brian No-Pants sees the thing on the floor. He still doesn't seem to notice the wet petrol everywhere. He picks up the tiny plastic thing. Out of the nativity scene and out of the church, it's not a baby Jesus.

Brian calls to the open door, ‘Hey, we made a baby.' He giggles. He looks at the steep metal stairs that lead back up to his office. He climbs.

Amis turns the gold cigarette lighter. It's warm. He's had it in his hand all this time.

‘What did Blyte say?'

‘He heard I was looking for him. He said he'd explain at the factory in fifteen minutes.'

‘Is that what's happened to our credit cards?'

‘What?'

‘They've been stopped.'

He scowled out the window. He shrugged.

She tried again. ‘How was Brian's bucks' night?'

He snorted. He shook his head. He glared at her. She had to drive and couldn't keep returning his angry looks.

Finally Daniel said, ‘I lived with my father. I know how it goes.'

‘Okay. Yes. It must have been awful.'

‘It was. And it wasn't. But I'm not like that. I've seen it and I know.'

‘I know that.' She reached to pat his thigh like she used to when they drove but he flinched away.

They were only a couple of streets from the factory when he said, ‘I'm not mad.'

‘I know. What?'

‘Then why did you have me committed?'

‘What?' Helen pulled off the road. ‘Daniel, when did I do this thing to you?' He wasn't listening. He was looking the other way. ‘Dan, I have never...'

‘He's burnt the factory.'

Helen looked. They could see the red glow and fire engines.

‘We have to get out of here,' he said.

‘No, we have to go down and see what's happened.'

He opened his door. He got out, but leaned back to say, ‘They'll think it was me.'

‘It's your factory. Why?'

‘I have no fucking idea. None.' He was open and honest and afraid in a way she had never ever seen. He looked like he might cry and Helen wanted to get out of the car and hug him. But she said, ‘Wait here. I'll go and see. Will you wait here?'

He wasn't sure.

‘Please, wait.'

He nodded.

Helen had to explain her connection, to talk her way into the yard past a policeman. There was an ambulance and two fire trucks pouring water uselessly. The heat was turbulent with a seething kind of wind. The metal walls were clenching.

Helen saw someone on a stretcher being fed oxygen from a bottle. She hurried over. It was Brian. His face was shiny. They'd smeared cream on. ‘Brian!' she called. His eyelids flickered but didn't open.

‘You know this man?' A policeman in a tie.

‘Yes. Brian Harwood. He and my husband own this factory.'

‘Mrs Longo?'

‘Yes?'

‘Have you seen your husband? Tonight?'

She shook her head. It was a reflex.

‘As you can see, this is no time for misguided loyalty, Mrs Longo. You could be in danger. So is he.'

‘But he didn't do this.'

‘He's not in the hospital, if that's what you think. He killed an orderly and escaped this evening.'

The detective watched her face. Helen could feel him studying her. She didn't hide what she was feeling which was shock, confusion and nausea. He signalled towards a uniformed policeman. ‘I'm going to send a car to park outside your house, okay?'

Helen nodded. She looked to the factory as warnings were shouted and the firemen stepped back. The roof buckled and metal screamed as it fell in.

She said to the detective, ‘How long's the fire been going?'

‘Half an hour we think. A lot of chemicals, so whoosh.' He seemed a little excited by it and caught her watching. ‘We're searching the area now.'

Helen nodded, looking at her feet and not where she'd left Daniel.

He'd had to lie down in a dry drainage ditch amongst the broken
glass and stiff dead grass when the police car came past. Its powerful spotlight swept the wire of the fence behind. A chopper with another searchlight was on the other side of the industrial park. If they used the infrared cameras they had, he'd be found easily amidst the treeless bitumen, security lighting and unclimbable fences.

Daniel went along the ditch until he was at the darkest point between two streetlights and crossed the road to a shared business complex where they had a short brick wall built around their postboxes. He lay behind it in the darkness watching the progress of the chopper.

Car headlights came up from the direction of Hearth & Home and Daniel hid until he saw it pause and caught the shape of the Volvo under a streetlight. He stepped out, so she could see him. If she'd told anyone, he was a goner anyway.

Daniel opened the passenger door but Helen said, ‘You should probably get in the back.' When he did, she drove off, fast.

‘Have they got it under control?'

She said, ‘You should probably lie down. They're looking for you.'

‘Me?'

‘Brian's been hurt.'

‘What was he doing there?'

‘I don't know. They're taking him to hospital.'

Brian? ‘Maybe Blyte is after Brian too.'

‘Why?'

Daniel didn't say anything. He was no closer to knowing. Blyte had phoned him but only to come see his work. Daniel still didn't know why. He thought he'd reached his limit, the end of his capacity to fight back. He'd like to find Blyte so he could surrender to him.

‘Why were you in a hospital,' Helen asked.

‘Because you had me committed.'

‘So it was a mental hospital.'

‘No, it was a veterinary clinic.'

‘And you escaped.'

‘No. They let me out.'

‘There was no fight.'

‘No.' Daniel sat up. ‘They said there was something wrong at home, with the kids. They let me go.'

‘Was there an orderly, um up a ladder or knocked over by a door?'

‘No. They woke me up. He gave me taxi fare.'

‘But not your shoes.' She was asking strange questions, not quite believing his answers.

‘What?'

‘You couldn't have lit the fire, anyway. You were too far away. Near home.'

‘Stop the car.'

She considered it.

‘Stop the car now.'

She pulled over in a side street. She said, ‘You did get a phone call. I heard it ring.'

‘Fuck you,' said Daniel and got out onto the verge and started walking. It was a tree-lined street of Californian bungalows, with white pickets and roses. Most of the house lights and Christmas lights were out for the night.

The Volvo drove next to him for a few paces, and then accelerated slamming the rear passenger door he'd left open. Helen stopped the car a house ahead and got out and came around to the path.

Daniel stopped.

She called, ‘I needed to figure it out, for myself.'

A dog started barking.

He stepped up to her, ‘Figure out what?'

‘I know none of this. I need to know what's going on.'

She didn't even trust him. Believed he could do such things. ‘Forget it.'

She moved her right foot out, squaring her legs.

Daniel thought it looked odd.

She pulled back her arm, like she was stretching her shoulder. Then she punched him. It caught Daniel full on the chin. It wasn't hard. It didn't have force. But Daniel found himself on his bum on the footpath.

She stood over him, flexing her fingers like they hurt. She looked at him accusingly and she said, ‘Owww. That hurt.'