Then I see the tall, dark-haired bride, her dress splashed and stained, with a tray of mugs, doling them out to elderly friends and relatives.
The younger men among the wedding guests are stripping off ties and jackets, moving in with shears and saws. A branch at a time, the Christmas tree is dismantled, minute by minute becoming mere glittering debris.
"You still okay under there, Larry?"
"All good here." I listen carefully for any doubt or waver, but Klempner sounds perfectly calm. c*****g my ear, he's still speaking, low enough that I can't pick out the words.
There's only space for so many in the rescue zone. A chain has formed, those at the front cutting wood, dismantling metal, passing it back along the line. Concluding that I'm surplus to need, I stand back and let the youngster
