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The setting sun pierced through the frosty sky. As it did so, it glanced off the snow-covered tower of Big Ben and cascaded into a thousand tiny streams of light, blinding the American tourist who was trying to capture the scene on video.
He was quite clear later in his description of what had happened.
The Parliament building had suddenly become like a great torch, set alight by the sun. It was really a beautiful sight, as if the whole building were ablaze. And then from way up under Big Ben, something seemed to fall. As if a moth had flown into the heart of an immense candle, and its blackened and charred body was falling all the way to the ground. It's difficult to believe it was a man, one of your politicians. What did you say his name was?'
She was tired, desperately tired, yet she felt an unaccustomed peace. The struggle with her memories was over, the pain purged. She could stop running now.
He sensed the change and could see it reflected in her exhausted but triumphant eyes. You know' he mused, 'I think you might make a halfway decent journalist after all'
Johnnie, I think you may just be right,' she said softly. 'Let's go home'
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