The Hull Home Fire

by Linda Abbott

  “She needs oxygen to help her breathe,” Mrs. Norris said quietly, repeating the doctor’s exact words. “She’s suffering from smoke inhalation.” Mrs. Norris sighed and reached for her daughter’s hand. “Her lungs may be permanently scarred.”

  Henry took a step forward. Mary’s face was lost in shadow. Tubes coiled around the bed, snaking up her arm to her face. She didn’t move.

  “The roof collapsed on her. She has a broken shoulder and a severe concussion.” Mrs. Norris kissed her daughter’s hand. “My sweet girl may have brain damage.”

  The world’s gone crazy, Henry thought. His chest tightened. “When will they know anything ?”

  Mrs. Norris let go of Mary’s hand and slumped back in the chair. Her arms drooped by her side. “She has to wake up before they can do any tests.”

  Henry held his breath and moved closer to the bed. He said a silent prayer, then gazed down at Mary. Soot and perspiration streaked her face. A bandage encircled her head. Clotted blood smeared her forehead and matted her long hair.

  “I don’t want Dougie to see her like this,” Mrs. Norris said. She covered her mouth to hold back a sob.

  Henry touched Mary’s cold cheek. “Please, Mary,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

  Chapter 10

  MIKE CLOSED THE BOOK HE hadn’tbeenabletoconcentrate on and tugged the straps of the seat belt around his waist. The flight had been long, with too much time to weigh out the possible outcomes of his visit. He hadn’t allowed himself to do that before. The closer the plane cruised toward Newfoundland, the more his resolve faltered. Too late to turn back now. Restless, he sighed, knowing he couldn’t give up, even if it were possible.

  Tall and broad-shouldered like his younger brother, he had been cramped in a space not meant for a man his size. The metal lock clicked into place. The same sound echoed throughout the compartment. All seat belts secured, the plane tilted to the right on its approach to the airport. Mike looked out the window at the birthplace he hadn’t seen in forty years. He felt something wet on his cheek. He brushed it away. The plane passed over The Narrows and the harbour lined with the Portuguese White Fleet, the group of fishing vessels so named because they were all painted white. A huge cargo ship was in the process of being unloaded. Tom was probably one of the longshoremen unloading the merchandise.

  Mike leaned his head back against the seat. Tom had been a mere boy of ten when he left. Would he recognize the man he had grown into ? A sense of loss overpowered him, a physical ache in the pit of his stomach.

  “You’ve gone rather pale,” the elderly man next to him said. “Are you all right ?”

  “Yes,” Mike said. “Just a lot of regrets floating around in my head.”

  “I left Newfoundland sixty years ago,” the old man said. “And come back for a visit every chance I get.” He smiled. “It’s best to leave regrets in the past and focus on happy memories.”

  Mike closed his eyes. How many happy memories had he missed out on ? He had missed Tom’s graduation from school, his marriage. Missed the birth of his only nephew. Missed time together as brothers.

  “SIR ?”

  Mike’s eyes flew open.

  The stewardess leaned over him. “All the passengers have disembarked,” she said. “Do you require assistance ?”

  “No, thank you,” Mike said. He put on his coat and followed the young woman to the front of the plane.

  “Have a pleasant stay,” she said.

  “Goodbye,” Mike said, and descended the steps to the asphalt. The winter air nipped at his skin like a pickaxe. Inside the terminal he collected his luggage and called a taxi.

  “Home for a visit, are ya ?” the driver said when Mike gave him the address.

  Mike sat forward. “What makes you think I’m from here ?”

  “Well, now, buddy.” The taxi man glanced in the rear-view mirror at his passenger. “The way you talk is a dead giveaway.”

  “That’s one less thing Tom will have to criticize,” Mike murmured.

  “What was that, buddy ?”

  Mike took off his hat and laid it on the seat. “I’ve been away for forty years.”

  “You still have family here ?”

  “A younger brother and his family.”

  “He must’ve been a youngster when you left.”

  “Tommy was ten.”

  They passed alongside Quidi Vidi Lake. Mike looked at the ice-covered water. “I rowed in the Regatta three years in a row,” he said. “They were good times.”

  “The record’s still not broken.”

  Mike heard a hint of pride in the man’s voice.

  “My father was the skip of the winning crew,” the driver continued. “I rowed myself for a while. The body’s not up for it anymore.”

  A grey haze hung over the city. “As the plane was coming in for a landing,” Mike said, “I saw clouds of smoke in the downtown area. Know anything about that ?”

  The taxi man gave a shrill whistle. “An awful fire first thing this morning. Never seen anything like it before in all my days. Water from the hoses froze into monstrous icicles the second it touched the building. Some of the firemen were treated for frostbite.” He paused. Mike waited for the driver to continue. When he did, his voice vibrated with a touch of sadness. “That wasn’t the worst part.” He shoved his hat back from his eyes. “Thirty-four people died. I still can’t fathom it.”

  “What caused the fire ?”

  “Don’t know as yet.”

  “Where was the fire ?”

  The driver pulled up in front of Dr. Kennedy’s house and the question was lost in the sound of the brakes. “Here we are,” he said in a livelier tone.

  Mike paid the fare and stepped onto the sidewalk with two suitcases.

  “Need help with the luggage, buddy ?’

  “Thanks. I’ll manage.”

  “The sidewalk’s like glass. Mind you don’t fall down.”

  Dr. Kennedy hurried out, having thrown his coat on when he saw the taxi stop. He pulled Mike into an embrace. “I meant to meet you at the airport, but I’m not long home myself.”

  Mike smelled smoke on his clothes. “That’s a doctor’s lot in life for you.” He noticed the doctor’s drawn expression.

  Dr. Kennedy lifted the larger suitcase from the ground. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm and cozy. It must feel strange to be back.”

  “You can’t imagine.” Mike looked around at the homes painted red, green, and yellow. Signs of uniqueness and character, as far as he was concerned.

  The doctor looked his friend up and down. “You look good, considering...”

  Mike smiled. “Considering we’re old men.” He retrieved the remaining suitcase from the ground and trod with caution across the shiny snow.

  SEATED IN FRONT OF A roaring fire in the library, the two enjoyed hot tea. “We’ll have something a bit stronger later,” the doctor said. He shivered, even though the room was stuffy with heat. “Right now I need a clear head to get my thoughts in order.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you after all these years, Frankie,” Mike said. “You’ve hardly changed.”

  “No one’s called me that since my Charlotte passed.” He stared at nothing in particular. “Medical school was quite a while ago.” He looked at Mike with a whimsical spark in his eyes. “And I had a full head of hair then.” The fire crackled. “Life twists and turns us into places we should never have to go.”

  “Sometimes we aren’t given a choice,” Mike said.

  Dr. Kennedy laid his mug down and pulled on a bushy eyebrow. “We have a lot to talk about, Mike.”

  “I see old habits never die. It’s a wonder you have any eyebrows left.”

  Mrs. Simms, the housekeeper and cook, stuck her head in the door. “Dinner’s ready, Dr. Kennedy. Salt fish with drawn butter, like you asked. Would you be wanting me to serve it now ?”

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Simms.”

  “Mmmm,” Mike said. “Haven’t had that since I le
ft.”

  The doctor stood up, his stooped shoulders now more pronounced, and led the way to the dining room. They sat at the long, dark table decked out with a linen cloth, china dishes, and silver cutlery. Carnations set in a white porcelain vase graced the centre. Dr. Kennedy chuckled. “Mrs. Simms has gone all out for you.” A Persian rug covered most of the hardwood floor. A wedding portrait of Dr. Kennedy and his wife hung over the marble mantel. Candles glowed from either end.

  “Charlotte was quite beautiful,” Mike said, taking note of her auburn curls and rosy complexion.

  “Indeed she was.” Dr. Kennedy sighed.

  Dinner conversation was sparse, confined to the weather and how much the city had developed over the years. Dr. Kennedy wolfed down the food while Mike picked at his.

  “Which is it ?” the doctor asked.

  Mike looked up, startled, as if surprised to find he wasn’t alone. “What ?”

  “You’re not hungry or you don’t like Mrs. Simms’s cooking ?”

  “This is more delicious than I remember.”

  “Then eat up. Mrs. Simms expects you to clean the plate.” The doctor lowered his voice as if to inform his friend of a possible conspiracy. “She won’t let you have any homemade coconut cream pie if you don’t.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Mike said, and proceeded to eat every morsel.

  The meal over, the doctor showed him to his room. “Come down to the library for a drink when you’re ready.”

  Dr. Kennedy sat, elbows on the armrests of the chair, and swished brandy around in a glass when Mike joined him. A bottle of brandy and another glass stood on the table next to him. Mike half filled the glass, sat in the same armchair as before, threw back his head, and downed the drink in one swallow.

  “It’s been one hell of a day,” Dr. Kennedy began without looking at his guest. “A most regrettable couple of days, to tell the truth.”

  “I heard about the fire. Where was it ?”

  “Hull Home, a combination boarding and nursing home.”

  “Isn’t that where Henry works ?”

  “The blaze began a few hours before he started work. I knew all the residents, Mike, administered to their medical needs, listened when they cried.” The doctor fell back into his chair. “I’ve never felt so useless, so unnecessary, as I did today.”

  “The darker side of our practice,” Mike said.

  “Tom’s mother-in-law died in the fire. He thought the world of her. She risked her life helping others make it to safety.” The doctor paused when the flames in the grate sputtered. “Henry’s girl, Mary Norris, is in serious condition.”

  Mike poured another drink from the bottle of brandy.

  Dr. Kennedy held out his glass for a refill. “There’s something else I haven’t told you.” He took a swig of the drink. “Tom had an accident at work.”

  Mike’s glass rolled across the hardware floor to the fireplace. The spilled brandy crawled after it.

  “I didn’t mean to be so blunt,” Dr. Kennedy said. “He’s alive and doing quite well, considering what happened.”

  Mike held his breath during the details of the accident. “I find stubborn patients often do very well,” he said. “Tom’s a prime example of that.”

  The grandfather clock in the front hall chimed nine times. “I didn’t think it was that late,” Dr. Kennedy said. “I have an early day tomorrow.”

  “It’s only seven-thirty in Toronto,” Mike said. “I’d be in the middle of dinner with my wife.”

  “You must be tired from the trip. I suggest you get a good night’s rest before you deal with Tom.”

  Mike stared into the fireplace. “I hadn’t given any thought as to how I would approach him. With what you’ve told me, it’s going to be even more difficult.”

  Dr. Kennedy stretched. “All I can do is wish you good luck.” He stretched again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mike lingered in the library, gazing into the fire until the flames became dying embers. Two drinks dispensed in rapid succession, he plucked a novel from the many shelves, one in the Sherlock Holmes detective series.

  Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight. And it didn’t. He rose at six. On an impulse, he took a taxi to his brother’s house, not at all sure what he would do once he arrived. As the car turned the corner, three men headed to the door and knocked. Dressed for outside work, he assumed they were longshoremen, Tom’s co-workers.

  “Stop here,” Mike said to the driver, and watched the men take off their hats to greet the slender woman dressed in black who answered the door. Mike stared at her. Elegant was the word that sprang to mind. This must be Alice. He had come to know her through years of letters. She was more than words on paper now, and his heart throbbed with sorrow for her loss. The bags under her eyes, and reddened nose, indicated she had cried most of the night. Her face was grey, marked with grief, yet still revealed the pretty girl she must have been in her youth. A tall, handsome young man appeared behind her.

  “Oh, my,” Mike whispered.

  “Are you all right, buddy ?” the taxi man asked.

  Mikes couldn’t tear his eyes from Henry. “Yes. Yes,” he said.

  The young man resembled his own son, could have been an identical twin except for the hair colour. His youngest son was blond like his mother’s family.

  “Take me back,” Mike said when the three men went inside.

  “WE’RE SOME SORRY ABOU T YOUR mother, missus,” Bill said. The other men mumbled agreement.

  Alice smiled her thanks. “Would you like a cup of tea to warm up ?”

  Bill stood with his hat in hand. “No, thank you, missus,” he said. “Me and the boys got together at work and took up a collection for you.” He withdrew a large manila envelope from his coat pocket. “It should keep you going for a while.”

  Henry opened his mouth to speak.

  Bill cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say. We know you have some money saved up for medical school.” He held up the envelope and continued. “The men agreed you need every penny you’ve saved for that. Son, times will be hard for your family, and you’re out of work as well, with the Hull Home gone.”

  A dockworker next to Bill spoke to Alice. “Missus, it’s not a handout. Tom dug deep into his pockets whenever one of us was laid up.”

  Alice accepted the envelope and laid it on the table. “I appreciate your generosity,” she said. “So will Tom.”

  Bill turned to leave with the others and was partway out of the kitchen when he hesitated. “Missus, I’m some sorry I couldn’t help Tom out on the ship.”

  “That’s the third accident this month,” Henry said. “The ones responsible for the equipment’s safety are to blame, not you.”

  Alice sat at the table while Henry escorted the men out. She dried her eyes when he returned. “A fine bunch of men,” she said. “Especially Bill. Mom really liked him.” Alice sobbed into her hands. “If only she’d moved in here last night like we wanted.”

  Henry didn’t know how to console her, or if anything could.

  THE EVENING CLOSED IN ON St. John’s. The stars flickered like crystal chips in a clear, black sky. People hurried home from work. Women cooked supper. Children played in the snow. The last autopsy concluded in the basement at the General Hospital. Thirty-four bodies. Some burned beyond recognition. Others without a single mark. They shared two common features. All perished at Hull Home. All died from smoke inhalation.

  Dr. Kennedy stood next to the man who had signed every death certificate. Dr. Sharpe pulled the sheet over Dot’s face. “This lady was in excellent health for her age.” He sighed, his voice barely audible. “She didn’t suffer, Frank. Maybe that’ll bring some small comfort to the family.”

  Dr. Kennedy wheeled the body into the freezer. “God bless you, Dot,” he whispered before shutting the heavy metal door on her. He took off the white hospital coat and hung it up. “The judicial inquiry into the fire begins the week after next. I’m not looking forward t
o that.”

  Dr. Sharpe scrubbed his hands. “I want to get my testimony over with as soon as possible.” He looked at his colleague. “And to think Valentine’s Day is just around the corner.”

  “A time to honour loved ones.” Dr. Kennedy shook his head as if trying to shed himself of unwanted thoughts. “I heard Sir Edward Emerson will head the inquiry.”

  “That’s right. He’s a no-nonsense man who’ll cut through the bull and get to the truth.” Dr. Sharpe turned off the morgue light switch and shut the door. The two men walked down the long, dimly lit corridor. There was no one to hear the echo of their footsteps. They came to the elevator, slowed, looked at each other, then moved on to the stairs. Neither one wished to be confined to the limited space of the elevator. They parted on the main floor, Dr. Sharpe to his office, Dr. Kennedy to the parking lot.

  Mrs. Simms had supper on the table when he arrived home. “Stew with dumplings and tea buns,” she said. “Dr. Gibbs gave me a hand with the buns.” She flushed a dark pink. “He’s some handy in the kitchen.”

  Dr. Kennedy smiled despite the chill in his heart.

  “All autopsies completed ?” Mike asked when the housekeeper left to bring in dessert.

  “I’ve witnessed plenty of terrible sights in my experience as a doctor. This was the worst.”

  “Frankie, do you think I should go home and forget about confronting Tom ? He and Alice have enough to contend with.”

  “Alice needs some peace of mind more than ever right now.” The doctor tore off a huge piece of bun. “So, no. You do what you came here to do.”

  Mrs. Simms brought in an apple crumble fresh from the oven and a second pot of tea. “There’s another meeting about Confederation at seven,” she said, cutting out two portions of the apple crumble. “I don’t want to be late. The dishes can wait till I get back.”

  Dr. Kennedy looked at Mike. “I don’t ever recall the woman asking my permission for anything,” he said, as if she had already departed.

  Mrs. Simms peered sideways at her employer. “Now, sir,” she said. “You know darn well there’s not a single word of truth in that.”