by Helen Lowrie
My stride faltered with relief the moment I spotted her standing chatting to Lil and Max. Kat’s gaze connected with mine immediately, her face paling as she took an automatic step towards me in alarm.
I pointed. ‘Does anyone know what that’s about?’ I shouted to the trio as I started to sprint towards the nursery gate. By the time I’d yanked it open and reached the source of the smoke, Kat and Max were close behind me. The fire was coming from the potting shed.
‘I don’t understand,’ Kat said, ‘no one’s been working down here today. I left it all locked up.’
‘Max, call the fire brigade,’ I said over my shoulder, ‘and then get Frank and help me get some hoses over here quickly.’ Max nodded, turned on his heel and ran off. I was about to run to the nearest polytunnel to retrieve a hose when Kat’s anguish stopped me.
‘Jamie! The kittens!’ The raw pain in her expression almost stopped my heart. Flames were licking up the timber of the locked gable doors and flickering out through the small cat-flap Kat had installed to enable Socks to come and go. Even at a distance of several metres the heat from the fire was intense. Behind me Lil, Barb and Leah were dragging a heavy water hose out of a polytunnel and across the gravel towards us, but the length of rubber was cumbersome and awkward to manoeuvre and would not reach us immediately. Kat took a panicked step closer to the inferno and I seized her arm.
‘Stop! Don’t even think about it,’ I said. ‘I’ll get them – just stay here.’
Without pausing I grabbed an axe from where Frank had been chopping wood, moved around to the side of the shed and pulled the hem of my shirt up over my mouth and nose. The heat was too fierce for me to get anywhere near the front doors so I waded into the thick tangle of undergrowth that surrounded the other three walls.
‘Wait, don’t!’ Kat cried out behind me.
‘Just stay back,’ I shouted over my shoulder.
The twisted mass of hawthorn saplings was threaded with brambles, creating a vicious, almost impenetrable mass of barbs and thorns that reached up to my shoulders. Ignoring the smarting as my skin was snagged, scratched and punctured, I wrestled to get close enough to the rear of the building, the smoke stinging my eyes. With some indiscriminate hacking I was able to get close enough to thrust the blade of the axe through a window but, as the glass smashed, the flames swelled and a billow of black smoke engulfed me making me choke. Pressing my face into my sleeve I coughed and wiped my eyes in an effort to regain my vision.
But now, at last, the others had brought water and I gasped in relief as it rained down on my skin, blissfully cool. By training one jet of water on the front doors and the other over my head and through the broken window before me, my staff provided me with space to breathe. Without further hesitation, I forced my way closer to the window, leaning in and calling to Socks in a rasping voice. To my surprise she appeared on the bench top right in front of me, her fur damp and bristling, her eyes wide with fear, and one of her kittens dangling from her mouth. I stretched a cupped palm out towards her and after only a few seconds hesitation she relinquished the kitten to my care. Quickly I passed the kitten backwards into Kat’s waiting hands while Socks disappeared to retrieve her other offspring. The fire was still burning, the water pressure of our hoses too weak to combat the flames and as the seconds ticked by I started to worry that Socks wasn’t coming back. But then she reappeared, the second kitten in her jaws. Without ceremony, I snatched them up, mother and baby both, and beat a hasty retreat. As I finally staggered free of the heat, smoke and undergrowth, and handed the animals to safety, it was to the wailing approach of sirens and a round of cheers and applause from the small crowd of customers who had gathered at the gate to watch.
Within ten minutes of the fire brigade’s arrival the fire had been put out. Kat, her face streaked with soot and tears, would not leave my side as two paramedics checked me over. My clothes were ripped to shreds and I was covered in bloody gouges and scratches but it was my level of smoke inhalation that had them concerned. It was embarrassing being the focus of so much attention and after repeatedly insisting that I’d only had limited exposure they eventually agreed to let me go, on the strict proviso that I check myself into hospital should any untoward symptoms arise.
By the time we’d closed for the day and everyone, including the emergency services, had departed, the adrenalin in my system had well and truly drained away. I got as far as the living room before collapsing onto the settee with an almighty sigh, my head back and my eyes shut.
‘Can I run you a bath?’ Kat said quietly.
I reopened my eyes to find her hovering in the doorway as if preparing for flight, her eyes wide. ‘That would be great, thank you, but sit down first; take a load off,’ I said hoarsely, patting the space beside me. Her gaze darted from my face to my hand and back again before she slipped fluidly into the room and perched gingerly on the armchair opposite. ‘Are you all right? Are the kittens OK?’ As she returned my look I noticed she was trembling. ‘Kat?’
‘They’re fine – they’re settled in a box in the corner of the kitchen with Socks,’ she said, disregarding the first part of my question. ‘What did that fireman say to you? Does he know what caused the fire?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ I sighed. ‘He thought it was probably just an accident; a stray fag butt – though who’d been smoking down there I couldn’t say. Max and Leah are regular smokers but they don’t do it down on the nursery.’ The intent look in Kat’s expression surprised me and I leaned forward towards her. ‘What? What is it, Kat?’
‘It’s my fault. He’s found me – he knows I’m here.’ For a moment I had no clue what she was talking about. ‘He must know I work in that potting shed and he obviously tried to –’
‘No, Kat, that’s crazy!’ I said, cutting her off, shocked. Standing up I moved over to her but she sprang up and stepped away from me. ‘It was an accident, Kat. Nothing to do with Vic – you weren’t even in the shed today, thank God –’
‘It might’ve been a warning – a threat.’
‘No, Kat,’ I said, reaching out for her hand. ‘You’re being paranoid – it was just a silly accident.’
Shrugging away from me and avoiding my touch, she shook her head. Weary frustration spiked inside me. She was the most unbelievably stubborn woman I’d ever known; I loved that about her but right now it was maddening. Heavily I sank into the seat she’d vacated.
‘Please don’t let this worry you. The Fire Crew Manager I spoke to knows his stuff and he’s confident it wasn’t arson.’
‘Why?’
‘Well for one thing there was only one point of origin; just outside the door – usually when someone starts a fire deliberately they do it in several places to make sure the flames take. And there were no signs of chemical accelerant, no petrol or anything. If someone had really wanted to cause some damage they would have set fire to the chemical store surely? God knows there are all kinds of flammable liquids in there!’
Kat sighed and bowed her head, gazing down at her hands. I could tell she wanted to believe me and I hoped I’d said enough to convince her. Even in our filthy, sweaty, bedraggled state I wanted to hold her.
‘Please, Kat, just forget about it,’ I said gently.
‘I’ll go run your bath.’ Straightening up she disappeared out of the door.
Chapter Forty-five
Despite the sultry weather and the intense heat of the fire I’d just experienced, I now felt chilled to the bone. My hands shook with delayed shock as I set the bath taps running, returned to the kitchen and plundered the fridge for leftovers. As cold as I was I didn’t feel much like cooking. Having found half a goat’s cheese and red pepper quiche, some vegetarian sausage rolls, potato salad, cherry tomatoes, houmous, breadsticks and olives I set them all out on the table so that Jamie could help himself. Now that the adrenalin was wearing off, a whole host of disturbing implications were elbowing their way into my mind. Was the fire really just an accident like Jamie had said? Vic’s cold
eyes and mocking smile sliced through my mind and I fought the urge to vomit.
As soon as Jamie had finished in the bathroom I nipped in, re-filled the bath halfway, stripped off and washed myself briskly. He could have died! Jamie could have been burnt to death and it would have been all my fault – why the hell had I let him go after those kittens?
Everything had happened so quickly and once he’d made his mind up to rescue them there’d been no stopping him; he was so damn calm and fearless, intently focused on getting those animals out alive. And, yes, they were adorable but not worth Jamie’s life! Another shiver raked through me and I bit my lip. Thank God he wasn’t badly hurt; I’d never have forgiven myself.
Socks and her two kittens were still in their box, sleeping soundly, when I came back downstairs but Jamie was not in the kitchen and the food lay on the table untouched. Stepping through the open back door on to the terrace I scanned the plant area but couldn’t see him. Over to the west, the dense clouds were finally breaking up and dazzling chinks of light burst dramatically through the gaps as the sun sank towards the hills. With a pang of unease I wondered if Jamie had gone back down to the nursery to survey the damaged remains of the potting shed. I hoped not.
‘Jamie?’ I called out.
‘Over here, Kat.’ His voice came from beyond the temporary fence that closed off the new coffee shop extension. ‘Come round and have a look; I’d value your opinion.’
Beyond the fence lay a large, smooth, rectangular concrete foundation, which glowed apricot in the fiery evening light. A new, sturdy, timber frame had recently been erected above it, outlining the new room, but, without walls or a roof, it currently lay open, exposed to the elements. In the centre of the space solid stacks of paving slabs had been bridged with a section of vinyl-covered worktop, providing a makeshift table. Jamie was standing perusing the architectural plans and drawings spread out across its surface. We were both familiar with the design but it was different – amazing – actually seeing the place taking shape in situ.
‘These walls will be mostly glass,’ he explained, pointing through the gaps in the timber frame to the view of the plant area and the countryside beyond. Then he paced back and forth to show me where the kitchen would go; where the counter would be positioned; and how the tables and chairs would allow for flexible seating arrangements, as per my suggestion. Jamie’s face was animated with enthusiasm as he talked, the sunlight glinting off his glasses, and yet I could tell he was exhausted. Even before his firefighting heroics he had been sleep deprived. Four nights of broken sleep was taking its toll on both of us and that was my fault too. One stupid moment of weakness – one innocuous little razor blade – had got Jamie worrying unnecessarily and frustratingly it was within my power to soothe away his concerns – if only I could explain it to him; if only.
While Jamie spoke I handled the laminated plans, ostensibly to re-acquaint myself with them but mainly to give myself more time to think. Jamie’s optimism, his hopes and dreams for me, for us, were intoxicating. And I loved him. The bittersweet knowledge of that fact taunted my every waking moment, making it hard to think of anything else. But mine was a selfish and secretive love – I was concealing my past to protect myself.
Jamie stepped away to the outer edge of the concrete floor, surveying the view with his back to me, his solid, athletic silhouette outlined in orange sunlight. ‘And over here, through the doors, this will be the outdoor seating area,’ he said.
I didn’t go over to him, didn’t comment on the extension; I held back. I thought of the countless times I’d stood in the shade of a sycamore tree and observed Jamie from afar as he mingled effortlessly with his customers and put them at their ease. Even from a distance it was obvious just how popular he was with the staff and customers: adults, teenagers and children alike. He genuinely enjoyed motivating people, making them laugh. With a pang of intense sorrow I reminded myself that Jamie would make a wonderful father. We hadn’t discussed Jasmine since leaving her behind at the hospital. Clearly Jamie was relieved that she was not about to have his child but he had been mentally preparing himself for fatherhood. A part of him had been looking forward to being a dad and that same part of him was now sad to have had that opportunity taken away.
He turned back to me, his face in shadow. ‘You OK, Kat?’
I didn’t reply. Once Jamie knew everything I would lose him. But he could have been killed today. I hated myself – I was sick of feeling like an imposter and a fraud and tired of being held hostage by my own secrets. The other night when he’d caught me with that razor he’d said that he needed me – and that was bad. I could not be relied upon. I couldn’t go on hurting him any more – I had to set him free.
‘Kat?’
It was now or never. ‘You’ve been so honest with me,’ I began. ‘And I – you deserve to know the truth about me: who I am, what I am, so that you can tell me to leave.’
‘I’ll never want you to leave, Kat,’ he said, moving towards me.
‘No, stop.’ I held a hand up to stay him, my determination sounding desperate. ‘Don’t say that; you can’t know that.’
Jamie shook his head but stayed where he was. ‘I just need to get this out, OK?’
‘OK, I won’t say another word.’
Closing my eyes I braced myself, resolving to keep my voice steady. ‘A few months after you left the Plumleys a boy called Daniel moved in to take your place. He was thirteen, a year older than me. He tried to rape me in the middle of the night so I broke his nose with my forehead and kneed him in the balls. It was enough to stop him. In the morning he told the Plumleys I’d beaten him up without provocation and they believed him; he was very convincing. My case worker transferred me to a different foster home but, before I left, Daniel cornered me, held me down, and gave me this to remember him by.’ Opening my eyes I tugged down the neckline of my T-shirt to reveal the round cigarette burn visible on my right breast, just inside the cup of my bra. I was grateful that I couldn’t see Jamie’s face and that he remained mercifully mute as promised.
‘There were other people I didn’t get on with over the years – sometimes it was another kid or a foster parents’ own child. Occasionally it was the carers themselves – one woman resolutely refused to feed me and another guy kept walking in on me in the bathroom. He tried to touch me; it made me feel sick and I knew it was wrong. But whatever the situation I knew how to escape – to get myself evicted and moved on, usually by fighting, breaking something or stealing. Of course I was my own worst enemy; all my bad behaviour went on my record and I became completely ineligible for adoption.’
I pulled the neckline of my T-shirt to the side, but it wouldn’t stretch far enough so I grabbed it by the hem and brazenly yanked it off over my head. Raising my arm high above my head, I turned the left side of my body towards Jamie and into the warm spotlight of the sun.
‘This is where I used to cut myself,’ I said evenly, indicating the neat row of parallel linear scars, like a barcode, on the underside of my upper arm. ‘Not to kill myself but to release some pain. I’m not proud of it but it was something to do, something to focus on when things became too much. That’s what I was considering doing the other night.’ Jamie’s legs had given way and he had sunk to his knees on the concrete floor but I knew he was still listening and I couldn’t stop now; I was on a roll, stripping away the layers and baring my soul.
Lowering my arm, I let my T-shirt drop away, turning to expose the right side of my body and pointing to the long diagonal scar at the edge of my ribs. ‘This is where the hospital removed my kidney. I’ve mentioned it before but I didn’t mention that it was my own fault. I wasn’t looking after myself properly. I got ill from sleeping in doorways, not washing, eating out of bins – and all because I was too proud to sell my body, beg for money or stay in hostels with strangers.’
Jamie radiated tension and I could tell he was shaking his head but ignoring him I turned so that he would have a clear view of my stomach. ‘And Vic
– marrying him was preferable to prostitution. He’s only violent when he’s drunk or upset. Most of the injuries he’s given me over the years haven’t left marks at all. He has broken this wrist before but it always heals again. I’m not making excuses for him; it’s true. I could have fought back, maybe I should have, but it was easier not to.’
Glancing down, I traced the three scars on my belly with my fingers. ‘A year into our marriage I fell pregnant. I had no idea at the time, I didn’t recognise the signs, but it was an ectopic pregnancy – the baby was growing in my fallopian tube – and one day I was rushed into hospital in agony. These two small, crescent-shaped scars are from the laparoscopy and this larger one is where they removed my tube with the dead foetus inside.’ I swallowed, unwilling to crumble at this late stage. ‘I, after that, they said I was unlikely to conceive again; they found scarring on both ovaries. I wanted you to know that – to know that I’m infertile – that I’ll never be a mother. Not that you –’ My throat finally seized up. My body had begun to shake and my eyes ached with unshed tears.
Wordlessly Jamie reached out, his upturned palms imploring. As my legs buckled he caught me, gently drawing me onto his lap and wrapping his arms around my body. The shock of ripping myself open at last was overwhelming and I curled into him, burying my face in his chest and crying like a child. While I fell apart the silent acceptance in Jamie’s embrace was deafening. As the sun set below the horizon he sat and rocked me, pressing kisses to the top of my head.
Eventually I struggled to pull myself together, amazed that Jamie was still there; that he hadn’t shrunk away from me or walked off in disgust. But then I should have known – Jamie was too polite; too kind, to react that way.
‘I’m so proud of you, Kat,’ he said into my hair, his warm voice rumbling deep inside his chest. ‘You are the strongest, bravest, most beautiful woman I have ever known.’
