The next morning, Clare looked at Alan sleeping peacefully with mixed feelings. So happy that they were now a couple, but very distressed about the fire. She wondered whether anyone had been hurt and was curious to see the damage. Alan was looking better this morning and, as she felt he needed to rest, she decided to leave him sleeping and breakfast alone.

After a quick breakfast she went to the nearest shop and bought him a pair of shoes and socks. She walked back past the fire damaged hotel and was appalled to see that it had burnt down to the ground, with only the walls remaining. An incredibly strong smell of burning hung in the air. As she stood on the pavement, in a daze, the man who had spoken to them the other evening came up to her.

"Hello, are you okay? Did you find somewhere for the night?" he asked.

"Yes, we're all right. My fiance is a bit shaken up and he has a huge bruise on his knee where he hit the door, but we're just glad to be alive."

"I said to my wife, if that young couple hadn't been running so fast, they would never have got out... it was quite a shocker, I can tell you."

"I don't suppose many people can say they survived a fire." said Clare. "Was any one hurt?"

"I'm sorry to tell you, because I saw you talking to him a few times, but the old gentlemen in the wheelchair died. They suspect that he started the fire, by smoking and falling asleep. His wife is distraught, as you can imagine..."

Immediately, tears sprang to Clare's eyes.

Clare returned to the guest house and went up to their room. Alan was washing in the en-suite bathroom. She sat down on the bed and burst into tears. Alan came out, a towel in his hands, to see what was wrong. He sat beside her on the bed and put his arms around her.

"Oh, darling, please don't cry. We're safe and we can go home now."

Clare sniffed.

"The elderly gent... he died in the fire..." she sobbed.

"What? That's terrible."

"They think he caused the fire by smoking and falling asleep."

"Oh no, his poor wife."

They fell silent for a while as they both re-lived the last evenings events.

"How did you get into my room?" Alan asked. "The door was locked. And how come you were dressed? Didn't you go to bed?"

"You won't believe me." said Clare, brushing tears from her face.

"Of course I'll believe you."

"Well, when I got back to my room, I started to pray. I had lots to say, but when I'd finished I looked up at the moon as it appeared from behind a cloud and suddenly I had a strong sense of foreboding. I thought it was God, warning me that something bad was going to happen, so I didn't get changed and I made sure I had my purse and your car keys in my bag. I sat there for a time, then I heard the fire alarm and ran across to you. I rattled the door handle and the door sprang open. The rest you know."

"So, you're telling me God warned you there was a fire and that's what saved us? But I locked my door, I know I did." Alan frowned. "So...you're telling me...he opened the door?"

Clare shrugged. "It's more than a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I don't know what to think." Alan replied.

"God saved us, I'm sure of it." said Clare.

They sat quietly on the bed, slowly coming to terms with the traumatic events.

"We'll have to make out insurance claims for our belongings." Alan said.

"My suitcase was quite expensive, by itself. And my Rolex watch. Oh, and your painting!"

"You're more important to me than any painting!" Clare replied.

"Come on, let's get ready and go home."