False fire

by Veronica Heley

  Someone screamed. ‘He’s dead!’

  FOUR

  Bea said, ‘What!’

  The phone went dead.

  William asked, ‘What is it? Bad news?’

  She handed her phone over to him. ‘I think that call was meant for you. A man shouted that someone was dead.’

  He checked. ‘That call was from Steve’s phone. I’d better speak to him. If I may?’ She could hear the phone ring at the other end until it was answered. At the same moment she heard a child cry out. Bea hurried up the stairs.

  Alicia was fast asleep but Bernice was out of bed, holding the bear by one hand, swaying with fatigue.

  Bea gathered the child up in her arms, and rocked her to and fro. ‘There, there.’

  ‘I thought I heard … was that Mummy ringing to see if I was all right? Or Aunt Sybil? Can I speak to her?’

  Oh dear, neither of them had been informed. Bernice’s mother, Dilys, was a sweet-natured, not particularly intelligent woman, whose default position was to dither.

  Sybil Holland was Bernice’s great-aunt, a billionairess; a painted, cigarette-smoking, red-lipsticked dragon who’d discarded three husbands so far. Her mind was as sharp as a razor, and her mantra was, ‘Never look back.’

  Even before her mother had remarried, Sybil Holland had taken Bernice under her wing and acted as her guardian although, as far as Bea knew, the position had never been made legal. Sybil was made of tungsten and understood Bernice, but Sybil spent most of her life in America and was living there now.

  Bea wondered what to say. ‘I don’t want to disturb them at this time of night, poppet. We’ll speak to them in the morning, both of us, and tell them not to worry because you’re managing beautifully.’

  Bernice was a brave child, who would, hopefully, respond to the challenge.

  Bea said, ‘Let’s get you back into bed with Teddy, so he doesn’t catch his death of cold. Do you say your prayers when you go to bed?’

  Bernice obediently got back into bed. Nice child that she was. ‘Is Mrs Frost all right? She taught us a prayer, but I can’t remember how it goes. Can you say it for me?’

  Panic. Bea had forgotten all about poor Mrs Frost, and it was years since she’d used a child’s prayer when she went to bed. Nowadays she talked to God whenever she felt like it, at any time of the night or day. Also when she was in trouble. This poor little mite was in trouble, all right … especially if that telephone call meant what Bea thought it might mean.

  She tucked Bernice under the duvet, and smoothed her hair back. ‘I don’t know which prayer Mrs Frost taught you. The one I used to say is:

  ‘“Now I lay me down to sleep,

  Guardian angels round me keep.

  Watch about me through the night,

  Wake me safe with morning bright.”’

  Bernice’s eyes were bright. Too bright. Tears were about to spill over.

  Bea tried to think of something to distract the child. ‘How do you imagine your guardian angel? Is he just hanging around behind your left shoulder? What does he look like? Mine has wings that aren’t pure white, but have flashes of pink and orange in them. When I’m on the verge of sleep, I think of him standing behind my bed and stretching out his wings to shelter me.’

  ‘There’s bits of blue in the white,’ said Bernice. ‘Different blues: some sky-blue and some a bit violety. I didn’t know grown-ups could see angels as well. Alicia’s angel has got some green in hers.’ The child snuggled down, clutching Teddy. ‘When Mummy rings, will you tell her I’m all right, really? And not to worry. She does tend to panic, you know.’

  Bea kissed the child’s forehead, wondering if Dilys would ever be able to find room in her new life for her daughter. Possibly not. But this was not the time to say so. ‘Of course I’ll tell her. Now close your eyes, and ask your guardian angel to look after you through the night. Tell her to be careful not to bump into Alicia’s angel. We don’t want a heavenly fight over the bed, do we?’

  Bernice giggled. ‘Silly …!’ She closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed. Bea didn’t move until the child’s regular breathing told her she was deeply asleep.

  Downstairs Bea went. William was on her phone, still. Walking around, monosyllabic. Listening to a voice which sounded scratchy, hysterical.

  Bea took the clothes out of the washing machine and put them in the drier.

  William finished the call, and put her phone on the table. He looked stunned. ‘I can’t believe it. Josh, my old friend … we were at school together, our children went to the same schools, and we …’ He passed his hand across his eyes. ‘He’s dead. I can’t take it in. I mean, we all knew his heart was damaged. He’d had a by-pass last year, but … I could see his colour was bad at table, when the firework went off behind us, but Gideon was attending to him, and … did I do the wrong thing in leaving Josh so we could look for the girls? No, that was the right thing to do. We would have been too late to get them out if I’d stopped to help Josh. Gideon was there and got him to hospital.’

  Bea set the drier to work. The children probably wouldn’t want to wear those dresses again, but they’d need their other things. She said, ‘You are a family friend?’

  He nodded, bringing his thoughts back from some faraway place. ‘It had never crossed my mind that … he’s been a creaking gate for years. I wonder, ought we to have done things differently? Taken him to a different hospital? No, what am I saying? It could have happened at any time, and he was in the best possible place … Where was I? Oh. Yes. They’d planned to keep him in hospital overnight. Just as well, as he couldn’t have returned to a home in flames. He never knew about the fire. I’m glad he didn’t.’

  ‘You told someone who was with Josh at the hospital about the fire, didn’t you?’

  ‘We were all on our phones, calling one another. I told Steve, who told your friend Leon. Then Gideon rang Steve and got the details. They decided not to tell Josh about it for the time being. Leon did well, didn’t he? Keeping everyone calm. They decided Steve should see his sister Daphne settled down so that he could get back to the house … she was in quite a state, apparently. She is a bit of a drama queen.’

  Bea said, ‘Leon rang me, wanted me to go and look after Daphne, but by that time we had the children on our hands.’

  He wasn’t listening. ‘There was no immediate danger, they thought. But then, Josh had another heart attack. Out of the blue. They did their best, they worked on him for quite a while, but it was no good. Josh has gone. He was a good man, you know? Always tried to do his best.’

  Steve and Gideon were Josh’s two sons. Bea had a feeling that Steve was the elder of the two. ‘Was that Steve on the phone, or Gideon?’

  ‘Steve. Gideon had rung him to break the news, so he rang me. Steve’s usually so calm and capable, but losing your father so unexpectedly … No, it’s not surprising. I’m shocked, too. He was one of my oldest friends and … Daphne!’ He shook his head. ‘She’ll take it hard!’

  ‘They won’t wake her to tell her, will they? Time enough for her to hear about it tomorrow. I suppose it will be best for Steve to break the news? Perhaps he’ll tell her husband and he can tell her?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, sufficient to the day. Steve is still at the house. He says the fire is out but they’re keeping a crew on overnight to make sure it doesn’t break out again. He rang me because … I suppose I’m the only one of the older generation around to rely on, now that his father is … Steve says Gideon is taking it badly. An understatement, I should think. Gideon was always his father’s favourite.’

  Bea didn’t reply. There was at once too much to say, and nothing helpful. She put Winston’s dirty plate in the dishwasher, together with the mugs they’d used.

  The man tramped around the room. She could read the signs. He was distressed and was going to pick a quarrel with someone if he could. He started by saying, ‘You don’t panic easily, Mrs Abbot?’

  ‘Have you checked on Mrs Frost?’

&nb
sp; That rocked him back on his heels. He reddened. He’d forgotten poor Mrs Frost. ‘May I borrow your phone again?’

  She nodded. At least he’d had the courtesy to ask.

  He reached the Reception desk at the hospital. Got short shrift. Shut off the phone. He was annoyed with himself and everyone. ‘They wouldn’t give me any information because I’m not family, or even a friend. What can I do? I don’t know who her next of kin would be. Josh would have known. Daphne? No, she’s out of it for the moment.’

  ‘Try Steve. He might be able to throw some light.’

  He threw her a dark look, but followed her suggestion and used her phone again. ‘Steve, sorry to bother you, but do we know who Mrs Frost’s next of kin might be?’

  He listened. At length. Shook his head. Clicking off the phone he said, ‘Steve hasn’t a clue. The top floor of the house where Mrs Frost and the children slept has been burned out, and the stairs leading to it. Whatever’s left up there is going to stay up there. Josh had a study on the ground floor at the back, overlooking the garden. With any luck that’s still intact. There’ll be some paperwork there which will give us her next of kin. They ought to be told so that they can visit. Steve will see if he can gain access tomorrow. Any other helpful suggestions?’

  In a meek tone, she said, ‘It seems a long time since supper. Could you eat something?’

  He was going to say that that was a ridiculous suggestion, but changed his mind. He even managed to produce a smile. ‘Apologies. What do you suggest? Shall I send out for something?’

  ‘What about some home-made soup and a roll? I always keep some in the freezer for emergencies.’

  He lifted his head. Was that a cry?

  She listened, too. The cry was repeated. ‘Grandpa!’

  Bea said, ‘Alicia. Your turn. I’ll have the soup ready by the time you come down again.’

  He went off up the stairs and she set about defrosting and heating up some soup and rolls. By the time he’d soothed Alicia back to sleep and returned to the kitchen, she’d sorted out what to say to him.

  ‘Sit down and eat. Take your time. I’m sleeping next door to the girls, so if they wake in the night, I’ll see to them. If you’d like to stay here, too, then you may sleep in the spare room at the top of the house.’

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’ He spooned soup up and attacked the rolls as if there were no tomorrow.

  She said, ‘Tomorrow I’ll tell Bernice’s people what’s happened and find out what arrangements they want to make for her. You’ll do the same for Alicia? When are the girls due back at school?’

  ‘Tuesday, I think. I doubt if Daphne will be able to look after them meanwhile. Perhaps they’ll let me take Alicia back to my place.’ A sigh. ‘Then there’ll be funeral arrangements to be made for Josh. If Steve doesn’t pull himself together, I may have to help out there.’ He sat back, temporarily sated. ‘You’re a good cook, Mrs Abbot.’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised.’ She stowed the dirty plates away, and rescued the dried clothes from the drier. ‘We’ll talk in the morning. Best get some sleep, now.’

  Faye is going to tell everyone that the girls set the fires. But we won’t talk about that now.

  He said, ‘If you don’t object, I’ll bring down a duvet from the top floor and sleep on a chair in the girls’ bedroom, just in case Alicia wakes in the night.’

  She checked her watch. ‘All right, but if Bernice wakes, rouse me to deal with her. I’ll be next door.’

  William started up the stairs ahead of her, while she collected Winston and the girls’ clean clothes and shut off the lights downstairs. By the time she reached the first floor, he was humping a duvet on to a chair beside the bed in which the children were sleeping. She paused on the landing to watch as he leant over Alicia, to push the hair back from her forehead.

  She caught her breath. For a second there, William reminded her of her own much-loved dead husband. He’d been a big, well-built man, too. Yes, they were the same physical type … which, she told herself, did not mean anything.

  She still occasionally wore the diamond engagement ring which her husband had given her, and had never removed his wedding ring from her finger.

  Leon? Well, he’d crept into her life through a business contact and become her good friend. He’d asked her to marry him several times. She’d grown fond of him as a companion and escort, but over time she had come to understand that she was keener on Leon when he had other things on his mind, and that she withdrew when he wanted to commit to her.

  She turned into the spare bedroom. The cat Winston leaped on to the bed, turned round three times, hesitated and looked through the open door, across the landing, and into the master bedroom opposite. He was trying to decide where he would sleep – with her or with the girls. She wouldn’t wait for him to make up his mind. She got into bed, turned out the light and tried to relax. She was very tired. She hoped she’d sleep but feared she wouldn’t. She prayed in snatches, aware of problems hovering on the edge of her consciousness.

  For a start, she didn’t think the fires had been started by accident. Someone had timed them to go off during the dinner party and after the children had gone to bed. The girls had been allowed to stay up later than usual. If they’d gone up at their usual time, they’d have been in bed when the fire started upstairs. And died. It had been intended they should die.

  No, no! She must be wrong. Who could be so callous as to think up such a scheme?

  She was wide awake, aware of the minutes ticking away, trying to pray … finally recalling what she’d told Bernice about a guardian angel.

  Before that night, Bea hadn’t thought about guardian angels for ages. Years. She’d told Bernice that her own guardian angel had white wings with pink and yellow feathers. Bea smiled. Was that true? She supposed it must have been or why would it have come to her? But why not blue or green? Why not completely white?

  She liked the thought of someone watching over the children as they slept. Too, too Babes in the Wood. Hansel and Gretel. Well, why not?

  A bird trilled a pre-dawn song in the garden below. She slept.

  Saturday morning

  She started awake. It was full daylight. Why was she not in her own bed?

  Ah, she remembered.

  She peeped in on the girls, who were still fast asleep. Good.

  The chair William had slept in was empty. The cat Winston heard her, and jumped down from the girls’ bed to butt at Bea’s legs. She was late getting up, and he was informing her that he needed to be fed, now! She dressed quickly, brushed her hair, put on the minimum of make-up, and stole down the stairs to find a note on the kitchen table from William, saying he’d borrowed her phone again, had gone out to get a replacement but would be back shortly.

  She fed Winston and made coffee. She could hear voices in the agency rooms down below. The domestic agency she ran was usually busy at weekends, and recently they’d had two people on duty on Saturday morning and occasionally on Saturday afternoons as well.

  Bea took her coffee and went downstairs to see who was on duty that day. By great good fortune, it was Betty, her office manageress: a practical, reliable person. The other girl was a sweetie, but not exactly Brain of Britain. However, she could take phone messages, which was mostly what was needed on Saturdays.

  Betty took one look at Bea’s face. ‘A problem?’

  ‘You bet,’ said Bea. ‘Let me explain …’ She did so, concluding, ‘Bernice’s mother is not going to be able to drop everything to look after her daughter because their little boy has gone down with chickenpox and they don’t want Bernice to get it, too … which is why the child was staying with a friend for half-term.’

  ‘Ouch!’ said Betty.

  ‘Uhuh! I’m pretty sure Dilys will want me to look after Bernice till she goes back to boarding school, and where we get replacement uniforms I do not know! Whatever happens, the child needs something to wear today. The same applies to Alicia, whose mother was carted off to hospital l
ast night needing stitches in her arm. Not to mention that the family house has been burned out. So, can you find someone to go shopping for the children and to look after them for a couple of hours afterwards? Marks & Spencer should have everything they need. T-shirts and jeans, sweaters, jackets, tights, undies and toiletries. And trainers. Age ten. It would be best to get everything in two sizes because Marks will take back anything we don’t use, right?’

  ‘Age ten.’ Betty scribbled on a pad. ‘Payment?’

  ‘Here’s my M&S card and details. This will be an emergency package only as the relatives will no doubt want to buy more clothing from Harrods or whatever later. I’ll be in touch with Bernice’s family, and Alicia’s grandfather will deal with hers, but I don’t see him shopping for girls’ undies and toiletries.’

  Betty turned back to her computer. ‘How about our own Mel? She’s local and often does the Saturday morning slot. What do you think?’

  Bea looked across the room to an unoccupied desk in the corner, and imagined the girl who usually sat there. Straight fair hair in a ponytail, big-boned, conservative dress sense. Mid-twenties? She’d been away to university but returned home to help when her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer, thankfully now in remission. Mel hadn’t been with them long but appeared to be hard-working and possessed – wow! – common sense.

  ‘Has she any experience of dealing with children?’

  Betty was busy scrolling up and down. ‘Siblings, older and younger. I can’t think of anyone else who’s local and might be free at short notice. Also, Mel’s young enough to know what fashions youngsters are wearing nowadays.’

  ‘You’ve sold me. See if she’ll come in. Now, what have I got on this morning?’

  Betty switched files. ‘Nothing I can’t handle till noon when we have that super-nanny coming in, the one whose CV reads like a list from Who’s Who. You said you’d see her, and I don’t think she’ll be willing to see anyone else.’