The neighbour bobbed back in again. ‘They think the fire’s taken a good hold. It might all go up. Good thing we’ve detached houses, eh? They want to know if everyone got out of the building in time. Your friend said everyone was out. That’s right, is it?’
Bea nodded. Yes.
‘The ambulance wants to know if anyone’s going in the ambulance with the woman?’
Bea shook her head. Where was her phone? Had she lost it again? No, she’d given it to the man, hadn’t she, so that he could chase up the fire brigade and the ambulance? She needed it now to … to do what? She had to let the girls’ families know what had happened. And Leon. And Alicia’s mother, Daphne … provided the woman had been released from hospital. What a mess!
She said to their hostess, ‘Is there a phone here that I can use? I’d better find out what to do with the children tonight.’
‘Poor Mrs Frost,’ said Bernice, opening her eyes, and then closing them again. ‘She went to fetch us some hot chocolate, and she didn’t come back. Where are we going to sleep tonight?’
That indeed was the question. It was half-term week and the children were home from boarding school. Bernice’s mother lived in a cocoon of happiness with her new family, which excluded her clever, difficult daughter. And then there was the chickenpox.
Bernice seemed happy enough at her boarding school, and in the holidays lived either with her great-uncle Leon or her great-aunt Sybil, who was currently in America. Leon wasn’t exactly nanny material. Which was why Bernice had been staying with her good friend Alicia.
And what about Alicia? Her grandfather, Josh, and her mother, Daphne, were both in hospital, and her family home had gone up in flames.
The ambulance departed, siren wailing.
The man came in, weary to the bone. Sodden clothes. Dark hair slicked to his head. A well-shaped head. A jaw that said he was not to be trifled with. He thanked their kind hosts, and said, ‘You heard the ambulance leave? They confirmed Mrs Frost has a broken leg. Also, probably, concussion. They’re taking her to St George’s Hospital. I’ll ring them later, to see how she’s getting on. I’ve asked the paramedic to check on the children before we take them away.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said the householder, still high on excitement. ‘The children will be all right after a good night’s sleep, won’t they?’
The paramedic bustled in. ‘I have another call …’
‘Please,’ said the man. ‘The children were exposed to dense smoke earlier. Can you check them out?’
Bea said, ‘I think they’re all right. Their breathing seems easy enough now, but they are exhausted.’
The paramedic gave each child a cursory examination. ‘No problem. You must have got them out in time. Keep an eye, won’t you? And if … give us a ring. Now, if you don’t mind …’
Faye, tears pooling on her splendid cheekbones, said, ‘I’m the one who needs attention. Look at my bruises, here and here!’ Indicating the shoulder which she’d bumped when she’d been searching for pearls under the table, and her wrist which Bea had grabbed in getting the girl out of the burning house. ‘How can I work with these injuries? Mrs Abbot assaulted me. I need photographs to prove it, so that I can take her to court and sue for damages.’
‘What nonsense!’ said Bea, but was herself too exhausted to complain further.
The paramedic looked harassed, but examined Faye and even consented to take some photographs of her bruises on her phone. Then he disappeared to answer his next call.
Faye preened herself. ‘Now that’s settled, I’ve got a lift arranged and I’ll be off. But not before I have a word with the firemen. Someone’s got to tell them that the children caused the fire!’ She swept out without a word of thanks to their kind hosts, leaving Bea worried about what Faye might have to say.
No, surely, no one would take Faye seriously, would they? And she herself had something more urgent to worry about. What were they to do with the girls?
The only answer that occurred to Bea was to kidnap them and take them home with her, which she didn’t think would be allowed. And, in fact, she wasn’t sure she had enough strength to cope. Perhaps the man – it was ridiculous, but she still didn’t know his name – might have something to suggest?
When he got off the phone again. And it was her phone, after all!
Their kind hosts were looking at their dishevelled guests and then at the clock, clearly feeling their age and wanting their bed. At their age, a little excitement went a long way. The householder went to look out of the window. ‘There’s no fewer than three fire engines working at the house now. Will you go to a hotel or something?’
The man clicked the phone off. ‘I’ve spoken to Steve and told him what’s happened. He’s on his way back home as we speak. Daphne’s being kept in, and so is Josh. Steve asked if I could take care of Alicia tonight, and I agreed. I’ve told the chief fire officer what I know, and given him my card. I asked if he needed to see you, Mrs Abbot, and the children tonight and he said “no”, but to leave him an address where he could contact you tomorrow. Is that all right?’
Bea nodded. ‘I’d like to take Bernice home with me, if no one objects.’
Her phone rang again. The man still had it in his hand, so answered it. Shortly. What a tower of a man he was. Solid. Reliable. Sensible. He handed the phone over to her. ‘Leon, for you.’
Leon was impatient. ‘Where the hell are you, Bea? And who’s that using your phone? I’ve been waiting for you to ring back and—’
‘Sorry, Leon.’ Though why she should apologize, she didn’t know.
‘Josh is being kept in, and I was about to go home because Gideon’s staying with him, when Steve rang to ask where you were because he can’t do anything with Daphne and I’d told him you’d be glad to help with her. Every time he tries to leave, she gets into a terrible state. She’s being kept in overnight, and seeing the cosmetic surgeon tomorrow but, even though they’ve sedated her, she needs someone to—’
‘Leon, stop! Perhaps you hadn’t heard, but after you left, another fire broke out at the house. We got the children out and the fire brigade on to it, but there’s no way anyone is going to be able to sleep at the house tonight. I know Bernice can’t go back to her mother’s, what with the chickenpox and all, so what would you say to my taking her home with me? Unless you’d like to look after her yourself?’
‘What! What? I can’t … my sister is back in the States, you know that! You’re right, the child’s mother is hardly … well, yes. You don’t mind looking after her tonight, will you?’
‘If you give me permission to do so, yes.’
‘Well, I suppose, if you’re looking after Bernice, you can’t help with Daphne.’
‘She has a husband or two in tow, hasn’t she? I believe I sat next to one at dinner.’
‘Humph. The toy boy? He was here, yes. Left some time ago, saying he has an allergy to the sight of blood. Would you believe! Steve said Daphne’s current husband – called Alaric – promised to accompany her to the hospital but never bothered to show up.’ He grumbled himself to a standstill and Bea switched off the phone.
Bea’s brain felt numb. Daphne, the sexy brunette who was Alicia’s mother, had been married three times, or was it four? Husbands number two and three had both been present at the dinner, hadn’t they? Or was Daphne still married to number two but intending to marry number three? Bea sighed. Perhaps she’d misheard. Introductions had been rushed when Bea and Leon arrived, so … Bea decided to think about that tomorrow.
First things first: get Bernice to bed. But what about Alicia?
Prompt on cue, Alicia started awake and cried out. The man stooped to lift the child into his arms. ‘There, there! Safe now.’
Alicia snuggled into him, whimpering. ‘I thought …’
Bea struggled to make sense of everything. ‘So where do you fit into the family?’
‘I’m Alicia’s paternal grandfather. My son is her father. Lissy, poppet; I’m right out of ideas
. Where are you going to sleep tonight? Can you go to stay with Bernice’s people?’
Bernice was out of it. Fast asleep.
Bea said, ‘Sorry, no. Not appropriate. Bernice is Leon’s great-niece and he’s agreed she can stay with me tonight. I’ve got a bed to spare. Will you let Alicia come home with me, too? I live just off Kensington Church Street. I’ve just thought; it’s lucky I retrieved my evening bag or I wouldn’t have had a key to get back in with.’
He held out his hand. ‘Give me your phone and I’ll order a cab.’ She handed over her phone again, wondering for the first time where he lived. Out of town? If he went to a hotel looking as he did now, would they give him a room? His jacket was in poor shape, his black tie – a properly tied black tie and not a made-up one – was hanging undone round his neck. A well-cut suit. Silk mixture. His shirt was filthy. She hoped he had some cards on him to pay for the taxi.
Yes, he was thinking the same thing. He handed her back her phone and, hampered by Alicia clinging round his neck, checked his pockets. Produced a wallet. Yes, he had cards and enough cash on him to pay for a cab.
He thanked their hosts for their kindness, saying he’d be back tomorrow – giving them his card – and said they must make sure to send the bill for any cleaning that needed to be done to him. He asked Bea if she had a card on her, and when she produced one from her bag, he said he’d give it to the firemen so that they could contact her on the morrow, and for her not to take the children outside into the cold until the cab arrived. Thoughtful of him. He handed Alicia back to Bea and disappeared into the night again.
Their host stood in the window to see what was happening outside and to give them a running commentary. ‘It’s amazing how a crowd collects, even at this time of night. Dog-walkers, teenagers with nothing better to do.’ He flattened himself against the window, the better to see what was happening. ‘I must say, they do seem to know what they’re doing. All those hoses, you’d think they’d get them mixed up. Do they have a height requirement, do you know? I always wanted to be a fireman when I was younger.’
‘Come away, do,’ said his wife. ‘You’ll catch your death.’
He took no notice. ‘Can’t see any flames now, but there’s lots of black smoke. What a mess! I wonder if they’re going to be able to save the upper floors. I expect they’ll have to keep one of the engines here all night, to make sure the fire doesn’t start up again.’ And, to his wife, ‘Ought we to offer the firemen some refreshments?’
‘No,’ said his wife. ‘It’s long past our bedtime.’
Their cab came. Bea feared that in their soot-laden clothes, they’d probably spoil the upholstery. The driver thought so, too. The man pacified him with a couple of large denomination notes. Bernice slept as Bea bore her out to the cab; the man carried Alicia, who was fighting sleep.
Home, James; and don’t spare the horses.
How strange it seemed to walk back into her own lovely house and switch on lights that worked. The children woke when they were lifted out of the cab. Both made it up the steps and into the hall on their own two feet. Disorientated, half awake. Filthy.
‘Upstairs,’ Bea said to the children. ‘First floor. Big bedroom on the left. Bathroom en suite. Shed your clothes on the landing, get into the bath. Use masses of bath oil. Wash your hair. I’ll find you some T-shirts to wear.’
Wearily, the girls pulled themselves up the stairs, holding on to the banisters. Bea knew how they felt.
The man hesitated. ‘May I stay for a while?’
‘Please do.’
‘Is there somewhere I can wash?’
‘Can you make it to the top floor? There’s a flat up there which my adopted son uses. Spare bedroom and bathroom. You might even find a bathrobe which will fit you.’
He followed the girls upstairs.
Bea felt something press against her leg. Winston, her big, black, fluffy cat, letting her know he needed to be fed. She picked him up and cuddled him. He allowed her to caress him for the ritual five seconds, then wriggled out of her arms and made for the kitchen. He knew where his food was to be found, even if she seemed to have forgotten her role as carer. She obeyed him. A sachet of his current favourite. Fresh water.
She followed the others upstairs. She would give the children her own big bed tonight because they would sleep better if they were together. She always kept the spare-room bed made up, so she’d doss down there. She shucked off her jewellery, added her torn and dirty clothing to the pile of children’s things on the landing and went to shower in the guest room next door.
She could hear bathwater running in her own bathroom … and then the water gurgled down the outside pipe from the top floor, too. She removed the remains of her makeup, found herself a long cotton nightie, shrugged on her grey velvet winter housecoat, brushed her hair, and put her head round the door of her bathroom to find the girls still were in the bath, one at either end. They’d used her best bath oil. Good. She hoped it would take the stink of fire out of their nostrils. They looked as sleek as seals, with long wet hair clinging to their scalps.
‘We used two lots of bath water,’ said Bernice, in her deep, grown-up voice. ‘We hope that’s all right.’
‘Sensible girls. The hairdryer is already plugged in next door, and I’ll find you a couple of T-shirts to wear. When you’re ready, pop yourselves into my big bed and I’ll bring you up some hot chocolate to drink.’
‘We can sleep together?’
‘Definitely.’
Bea laid a couple of T-shirts out on the bed and went downstairs to make four mugs of hot chocolate. She set aside two to cool while she took the others upstairs. She considered putting some whisky into the chocolate, but decided against it. The girls were near enough sleepwalking as it was. Two clean little girls, eyes wide with strain.
Ah, she knew what would help. She rummaged in a cupboard to find … she knew she hadn’t thrown it away … her old teddy bear. She’d been given it as a child. It had had its growl replaced and was large enough for a child to hug. She handed it to Alicia, who was the first to climb into bed.
‘Mm.’ Alicia put her nose to the bear and breathed deeply. ‘He smells funny. What’s his name?’
‘Teddy. What sort of “funny” does he smell? Funny good?’
‘Dunno. All right.’
‘Let me.’ Bernice climbed in beside her and they both had a go. ‘Mm. Yes. Funny. Like wet wool, a bit. But nice.’
‘Hot chocolate, both of you.’ Bea handed them their mugs. ‘I’m going to leave the landing light on, just in case you need to go to the loo in the night. You might find my cat wants to sleep with you. I hope you don’t mind?’
Alicia addressed the toy bear. ‘Teddy, do you mind if we have a cat to sleep with us?’
Bernice put on an extra-low voice, pretending to be the bear. ‘I don’t mind, if you don’t.’
Alicia said, ‘Why don’t we call him Nosey-poo!’
‘That’s a silly name. She said his name is Teddy.’
‘That’s her name for him. He has to have a name of his own.’
‘No, he doesn’t. He’s already Teddy.’
The children giggled. They’d perked up nicely, but would probably have nightmares.
They settled down, one on either side of the bear, talking to him in low voices. ‘Now don’t be afraid, Teddy. Nothing’s going to happen to you—’
‘We’re quite safe here …’
‘Mrs Abbot won’t let anything awful happen to us …’
The children’s eyes were closing. Bernice gave an enormous yawn. Alicia put her thumb in her mouth and sucked. She probably hadn’t sucked her thumb since she was two years old, but this was not the moment to remonstrate.
Bea decided to sleep next door so that she could hear them if they called out in the night. She collected all the dirty clothing which had been abandoned on the landing, and went downstairs to see whether or not her male guest was still around.
She found him in the kitchen, contem
plating the microwave and two cooling mugs of hot chocolate. He was wearing – just about – her adopted son’s white bathrobe, over his own trousers. Bare feet. His dirty shirt and socks were on the floor. She picked them up to put in the washing machine, together with the children’s things. She buried her ruined evening dress in the rubbish bin. She’d never wear that again.
He said, ‘A cat keeps nudging my ankles. Yours?’
‘Winston. I fed him a while ago, but he reckons guests can always be bamboozled into giving him extra. I’ll give him another sachet to shut him up. Can you work the microwave, and do you want me to put something in your chocolate?’
‘I’ll have it straight. Thanks.’ He microwaved and handed her a mug of chocolate so hot it almost burned her hands. She didn’t mind. She cupped her hands around it, and savoured the aroma. She closed her eyes for a moment.
There was something she had failed to do. What was it? She said, ‘I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t remember your name. I’m sure we were introduced but … and then someone was sitting between us at table.’
‘Morton. William.’
‘Abbot. Beatrice. Call me Bea.’
Was that a cry from one of the girls? The both lifted their heads to listen. No, all was quiet except for Winston noisily ingesting his food, and the swish of the washing machine.
She said, ‘It’s getting late. I don’t know where you live. Do you want to stay here tonight, in the flat upstairs?’
‘I’d like that. I was supposed to stay at Josh’s tonight.’
She had a ridiculous impulse to laugh. Why? Totally inappropriate. She suppressed the urge with difficulty. ‘You haven’t even a toothbrush to your name, then?’
‘I could go to an hotel.’
A phone rang. Her mobile? She looked wildly around. She must silence it, immediately, or it might wake the children. Where had she left it? Ah, her evening bag was sitting on the table in front of her and her phone was in it. She extracted it. ‘Bea Abbot speaking.’
False fire Page 4
