She sets the vodka and glasses down, and puts the knife between her teeth, leaving her hands free to slip out of another layer of grey, threadworn jumper, down to her camisole.

"Don't worry," she says. "It'll be fixed in no time."

She turns her attention back to the flimsy little enclosure in the fireplace, kneeling and pushing the metal curtain back out of the way. Fire suppression techniques be damned, she wants something more than a candle flame to heat the room.