by Pam Howes
Jack chucked a lit match into the nearest box by the door and dashed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He stopped for a brief second when he thought he heard a noise, but decided it would be pigeons on the upstairs floor. They often came inside through a broken window, making a racket with their billing and cooing, and were probably sheltering from the cold. Well, there was no way he was shooing them out now and pigeon shit on fabric bales that would never be used was not his problem. He ran lightly down the stairs and hurried outside, locking the big double front doors.
His motorbike was standing by the wall. With legs that felt like jelly and his stomach churning, feeling sick with nerves, he kick-started the bike to life and roared off down the lane towards his home, without so much as a backward glance at his place of work. It was only as he pulled onto the road leading to his house that he realised he’d left the empty lighter fuel cans standing on one of the machines. Well, it was too late now, he wasn’t turning back. Hopefully they’d be destroyed beyond recognition in the inferno he was certain would now be well underway.
During their recent meeting, Kane had told Jack that when the girls came in to work today they’d be feeling despondent as it was their next to last day, and may be careless about dropping cigarette ends. It would be easy to blame a fire on a worker having a sneaky ciggie on the factory floor. Kane had promised him money if he agreed to start the fire; he’d received the equivalent of six weeks’ wages already, with promise of more when the insurance company paid out on the subsequent claim for the damaged building and fixtures. All the paperwork showing the business was in dire straits would go up in flames, and Mr Kane had assured him that his accountant, who was also an acquaintance at the golf club, would be easily persuaded with a back-hander to keep quiet if necessary. When Jack voiced his worries that the girls might speak up if questioned, Mr Kane told him it was unlikely they’d even be asked. With money from the claim it might be possible to start another business, he’d said, with new jobs for all. Once that rumour reached their ears they’d be unlikely to jeopardise the possibility, even though Jack knew it would never happen. Kane just wanted out of this mess. Jack wasn’t in a position financially to think twice about Kane’s offer. With four kids to keep, and a wife who didn’t know the meaning of getting off her fat arse to work, his wages were all that had kept the wolf and the tally-man from the door.
Joanie snipped the final thread and shook out the dress. It hadn’t taken too long to do all three. She’d had a bit of a delay when the cotton got tangled under the foot of the machine and she’d had to cut and pull out all the knots from below the shuttle area. Jack would still be around and there would be lights on as she made a dash back to the floor below. It was getting really dark now and hard to see what she was doing. She switched off the power to the over-locker, carefully folded the dresses and put them back in the bag. The door was shut but she could see from the glow through the dirty glass panels that a light was on outside on the landing, which meant Jack was on the premises. She pulled on her coat, picked up her handbag and the dress bag and hurried out of the room. A wall of smoke hit her as she ran down the first few stairs and she could hear the crackle and popping of fire that sounded like wood burning in a stove. She realised with horror that the glow she had seen wasn’t a light, but was coming from a fire on the floor below, and the flames were now licking up the wooden staircase. The heat was immense.
She sank back against the wall, choking on the smoke and feeling more frightened than she’d ever felt in her life. Where was Jack Carter? She yelled his name, and then ran back up the stairs to the top, looking down at the grounds below through the window. She could see by the pale moonlight where Jack usually parked his motorbike by the wall, but he must have left, because the bike had gone. That meant the doors would be locked and she was trapped alone in the burning building. She was gasping for breath now and ran back into the workroom, slamming the door closed behind her.
The smoke had followed her. Although it wasn’t as dense in here, she could still taste it and it caught the back of her throat. She ran to the window, picked up a metal box and hurled it at the glass. The window shattered and the cold night air rushed in. She broke each of the four large windows in turn and screamed for help at the top of her voice, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Shivering and terrified, Joanie slid to the floor and wept. Frank would be here soon, she told herself; he’d see what was happening and call the fire brigade. She could hear roaring now and the crash and explosion of glass as the flames shattered the windows on the floor below.
Had the other girls got out safely? She huddled into a tight ball and stuffed her fists into her mouth, trying not to breathe in the acrid fumes. She’d never felt so frightened, even in the war when the bombs were dropping on Liverpool during the Blitz. Somehow she’d known they’d all be fine in the little Anderson shelter down at the bottom of the garden.
She thought about her mam and all her brothers, but most of all she thought about Frank. He’d be here soon, she thought again; he’d rescue her. The smoke was stinging her eyes now and as she looked across the room she could see the flames licking the wooden frame of the doors; then the glass panels made a loud cracking sound as they broke and the flames leapt in, hot and fierce. She gently rubbed her tummy and thought of her precious baby growing in there and hoped that inhaling smoke wouldn’t do it any lasting damage.
Bales of fabric piled up near the door caught fire and all around her the floorboards were hot and fingers of smoke crept up through the gaps from the floor below. Joanie pulled herself to her feet and pressed as close to the window frame as she could, trying to take deep breaths, but nothing entered her lungs except the smoke. As she stared at the road she saw a bright light coming towards the factory and it turned in at the gates. Frank, on his motorbike? It had to be. Thank goodness for that, he’d come to rescue her. ‘Daddy’s come to take us home,’ she whispered to her unborn child. She tried to take in a lungful of air to call Frank’s name as the bike engine stopped. But her legs gave way and she collapsed onto her knees as the flames and thick, choking smoke enveloped her and robbed her of her last breath.
Frank dismounted his motorbike and looked up at the factory building in disbelief. Flames leapt from each broken window and smoke was billowing from the roof in places. He’d spotted the thick smoke as he’d roared up the lane and an inner fear told him it was coming from Palmer’s. There was no sign of the fire brigade – or anyone for that matter. Jesus, what if Joanie was still in there? He couldn’t see her anywhere on the lane or near the bus shelter.
On shaking legs he ran to the phone box down the lane and dialled 999. ‘There’s a fire at Palmer’s factory on Old Mill Lane,’ he yelled at the telephonist.
‘Just putting you through, caller,’ she said. Someone from the fire brigade answered his call. He gasped out his tale and said that his wife might be in the building. He was told an ambulance, the fire brigade and police were on their way. He dashed back to the factory and hammered on the door; he tried the handle, but it was locked. Thankfully it looked like everyone had left early and he relaxed slightly, wondering what he should do while he waited.
A man walking his dog shouted from the lane. ‘You all right, mate? Have you phoned for help?’ He walked across to Frank. ‘Is everybody out?’
‘I think so. The doors are locked. There are no bikes or cars on the car park. I’ve come to meet my wife, but she must have finished early and caught the bus. I bet she’s at my sister’s place now, cursing me for missing her.’
The man nodded and pulled his dog back towards the lane as the clanging bells of a fire engine sounded in the distance.
By the time the man came back with half a dozen of his neighbours, the firemen were uncoiling hoses from two red machines and an ambulance had parked by the factory wall. A police car screeched to a halt and two uniformed officers jumped out. Frank ran over to them and shook his head. ‘I think it’s empty,’ he said. ‘I thought my wife might be
in there, but the front door was locked when I tried it.’
‘So the factory has been open today?’ the first officer asked.
Frank nodded. ‘Yeah. They close down tomorrow for good. They must have finished early. I’ve come to pick my wife up, saw the place was ablaze and rang 999.’
‘And you’re absolutely certain no one is in there?’ As the officer spoke a loud cracking and roaring above them saw part of the roof give way and flames leaping skywards. ‘Bloody hell! They wouldn’t stand a chance in that,’ he muttered. ‘We need to get all the people that have come to gawp back behind the wall while the fire brigade try to bring this under control. If that’s your bike, sir, can you move it to a place of safety?’ He shepherded the gathering crowd out of the grounds as the fire blazed out of control and the firemen fought a losing battle.
‘I’m going to ride to my sister’s to make sure my wife is safe,’ Frank told the officer. ‘It’s only a short distance away.’ He could ring, but he might see Joanie walking along the lane. It was possible he’d missed her on his way here.
‘Thank you, sir. Would you mind coming back and letting us know she’s okay, and then we can be certain the building is definitely empty.’
‘Be back as soon as I can,’ Frank said and set off to Dora’s place.
Dora looked up as she heard the motorbike pull up outside. ‘They’re here, Joe. Good, I’m starving. Looking forward to a big bowl of Scouse.’ She got up to open the door, but only Frank dashed in, looking dishevelled and frantic.
‘Is Joanie here with you?’ he asked, a catch in his voice.
‘No, I thought you were meeting her from work. Wasn’t she waiting for you as planned? Maybe she got the bus to Mam’s to get changed.’
‘She’s not at Mam’s; I called in quick on my way here.’
Dora frowned. Frank looked like he was about to collapse and she grabbed his arm and sat him on the sofa. ‘Well where is she then?’ Frank’s face was white; all his colour had drained away. ‘Frank, what is it? What’s happened?’
‘The bloody factory’s on fire. It’s an absolute inferno,’ he cried. ‘Oh my God, Joanie must still be in there. The door was locked, I tried the handle. If she’s not in there, where the hell is she?’
Dora clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘No, she can’t be in there. She should have been out long before Jack Carter locked up. She must have stopped off somewhere and you just missed her.’
‘Well where? Tell me where to look?’ Frank got to his feet, tearing at his hair in an agitated way.
Joe grabbed his jacket and bike keys. ‘Come on; get on the back of my bike. We’ll go to the factory and you can look out for her on the way.’ He bundled Frank outside as Dora stood and watched them pull away.
‘Be careful,’ she called after them. She closed the door and stood at the front room window, staring out at the cold dark night. There had to be somewhere Joanie might have gone on her way home, but she couldn’t think where. She sat down on the sofa, praying that Joe and Frank would come across her friend happily strolling along the road. She couldn’t believe that Jack Carter would lock up and go with Joanie unaware that she’d been left behind. There was a phone in Mr Kane’s office, but the door was usually locked before the main doors. Joanie would have been unable to summon help if she’d been accidentally locked in. ‘It’s an absolute inferno,’ Frank had said. She felt sick. What if Joanie was trapped on the top floor? Loud sobs burst from her and tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t be. It didn’t bear thinking about.
CHAPTER 23
Joe pulled up on the lane by the factory wall and he and Frank ran towards the police officers, who were trying to keep people back. Frank grabbed the arm of the officer he’d spoken to earlier.
‘My wife’s not at my sister’s,’ he cried. ‘She must be still in there.’
The officer ran towards the fire fighters who were struggling to contain the blaze. He yelled at one of them and pointed to Frank. Frank saw the fireman shake his head and speak to another man who was directing the hose, but to no avail; the fire burned fiercely, out of control. More engines screamed up the lane and swung into the factory yard. Hoses were unfurled, extension ladders on top of the vehicles were unfolded and the firemen climbed up and aimed gallons of water at the top of the building. The officer came back to Frank and Joe.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no way in until the fire is under control. It’s too dangerous. An officer has gone to get the foreman.’
‘No,’ Frank screamed. ‘Please try and get her out. Joanie! My Joanie. She’s pregnant. You have to get her out, please.’ He dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably and calling her name, as the officer shook his head at Joe and mouthed ‘I’m so sorry.’
Joe dropped down beside Frank. He took him in his arms and held him while Frank sobbed heartbrokenly against his shoulder. Joe swallowed hard and fought to control his own tears. There was no way Joanie could possibly still be alive in that inferno. Another police car pulled into the yard and a man Joe recognised as Jack Carter got out alongside two other officers.
He ran across the yard and pulled on Jack’s arm. Jack turned and frowned, but then recognised him as Dora’s husband.
‘Joe? What are you doing here? Dora hasn’t been in today to see us.’
‘I know. She and the baby are safely at home.’ He pointed at what remained of the factory. ‘But Joanie’s still in there.’
Jack’s face drained of colour and he shook his head. ‘She can’t be. There was no one on the premises when I locked up. They all left a good half an hour before me.’
‘Everyone except Joanie,’ Joe said. ‘She stayed behind to use an over-locker for a private job. She was presumably on the top floor when you locked up.’
‘Sir, did you check the whole of the building before you locked up, including the top floor?’ one of the accompanying officers asked.
Jack shook his head; sweat beaded on his top lip. ‘There was no need to check the top floor. We’d only used the first floor and canteen today, and the boss’s office for a bit of paperwork. Everything was ship-shape when I turned all the lights off and locked up. I’d have seen lights on in the stairwell if someone had been upstairs. It was dark – if Joanie was up there she’d have put a light on. And there were definitely no lights on. She’s not in there, I’m telling you.’ He nodded towards the factory as the front doors caved in. ‘Well, you’ll not need the keys now, officer.’
Joe raised his hands in agitation. ‘This is wasting time. There’s nowhere Joanie can be other than in there.’ As he spoke the rest of the roof caved in, sending sparks flying up into the night sky. He was aware of howling and turned to look at Frank. The officer summoned one of the ambulance attendants over and Frank was helped to his feet and taken to sit on the back steps of the open ambulance. Joe followed, along with a police officer. A neighbour from the nearby cottages was handing out hot sweet tea and she gave two cups to Joe, telling him she’d put a drop of brandy in them both. Joe thanked her and placed a cup in Frank’s trembling hands.
‘As soon as they can they’ll enter the building and search for your wife,’ the officer told Frank, ‘but at the moment it’s not possible.’
Joe looked across to where Jack Carter was standing with another officer. The man’s face was a white mask of horror, his mouth a wide O, as parts of the sandstone walls that had stood for decades fell inwards. Joe walked across and pulled Jack round to face him. ‘If Joanie is in there, we’ll want answers. A fire like this doesn’t start from nowhere. You must have seen something.’
‘I’m telling you I didn’t,’ Jack protested. ‘I did my usual checks, turned off the lights and locked up. You can bet your life one of the workers chucked a fag end down without making sure it was out properly. They’ve been told not to smoke on the factory floor hundreds of times with all that fabric lying around. I might as well talk to a bloody brick wall.’
Joe raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘But no one knows how or whe
re it started until they can get in there to look. So why would you think it was one of the workers chucking a fag end away on the factory floor?’
‘I, er, I don’t, I didn’t mean that,’ Jack blustered, his face regaining a bit of colour, his cheeks flushing red. ‘I’m just making assumptions.’
Joe shrugged and stared at the man, who turned his eyes away from Joe’s steely gaze. ‘So where’s your boss tonight? Why isn’t Kane here?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It’s my bloody business if my sister-in-law is trapped in his blazing factory,’ Joe yelled, clenching his fists.
‘Sir, let’s try and keep things civilised and remember that a lady is still unaccounted for,’ one of the officers said. ‘This isn’t the time for arguing. Rest assured we’ll get to the bottom of what’s happened here tonight and we’ll be questioning Mr Kane on his return from London.’
‘London?’ Joe exploded. ‘He can afford to go swanning off to fucking London while his workers get laid off? I’ll swing for that arsehole if our Joanie is in there, so help me God, I will,’ he yelled as the officer took his arm and led him back to Frank. ‘Something’s not right here, officer,’ he went on. ‘A fire like that doesn’t get going with just a fag end. It would take a while, and he’d have seen smouldering or summat as he was leaving, smelt the smoke, or seen the flames, like.’
