Should Have Known Better

by A J McDine

  Somewhere outside the room a floorboard creaked.

  ‘Grandpa, is that you?’ she called out sleepily. But there was no reply. She turned onto her side and succumbed to her dreams.

  Hiss and crackle. Crackle and hiss. The scent of woodsmoke in her nostrils.

  Her lungs tightened as if she’d just run a 100-metre sprint, which was silly, because she hated running. It was suffocatingly hot, and she tugged at the neck of her dressing gown. Someone was coughing. Loud, wracking coughs that reverberated around the room.

  And someone was calling her name. No, not calling. Shouting.

  ‘Chloe! Chloe!’

  A hand gripped her upper arm, pulling her up.

  ‘Go away!’ she mumbled.

  ‘Chloe, you need to wake up. Now!’

  A man’s voice. Not Grandpa. She prised her eyes open.

  It was Adam.

  She felt herself being lifted and looked down to see his hands on the lapels of her dressing gown as he pulled her up.

  ‘There’s a fire,’ he cried hoarsely. ‘I need to get you out.’

  Chloe looked over his shoulder, and her eyes widened. Billows of smoke hung in the air like storm clouds and flames danced between the legs of the coffee table.

  ‘I d-don’t understand.’

  ‘Come on, quickly!’

  Chloe’s gaze fell on the cheap synthetic rug in front of the hearth. It was smouldering red, embers as angry as lava. Her eyes snapped back to Adam as a wracking cough gripped her diaphragm.

  ‘A log must have rolled out of the grate and set the rug on fire,’ Adam panted. ‘You’ve breathed in a lot of smoke. You need some fresh air. Come on.’

  She nodded and forced her legs to move as Adam’s hand snaked under her arms, and he pulled her close.

  ‘OK?’ he said into her hair.

  She nodded again and sank against him. He half-lifted, half-dragged her out of the snug, along the hallway, through the kitchen and out of the back door. He led her over to a bench, and she sank onto it, sucking air into her burning lungs.

  Adam wrapped his coat around her shoulders and gently tipped her chin up to him. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ she croaked.

  He touched the end of her nose. ‘Thank goodness for that. You stay here. I’m going back in to put the fire out.’

  ‘Be careful!’ she called. He turned briefly by the back door and raised a hand in a salute before disappearing into the house.

  Time stretched like elastic as Chloe tried to slow her breathing. Her head was pounding and her eyes, trained on the back door, felt gritty and sore.

  She ought to call the fire brigade. Maybe Adam had called them already, and they were on their way. What if he hadn’t? Her phone was still in the house, but the thought of going back into the smoke-filled snug filled her with horror. Instead, she staggered to the back door and called Adam as loudly as her lungs would allow.

  She cocked her head. All she could hear was a roaring noise, but whether it was the fire or the whooshing of her own heart, she couldn’t be sure. There was a moment when he didn’t answer, and she panicked. Making up her mind, she held the bottom of her dressing gown over her mouth and nose and stepped into the kitchen.

  At that moment, Adam appeared from the hallway with the smoking rug rolled up under his arm and a triumphant look on his face.

  ‘I thought I told you to stay where you were,’ he said, throwing the rug onto the patio and stamping on it, sending a cloud of acrid smoke into the air.

  Chloe dropped her makeshift mask and coughed. ‘I was coming to look for you.’

  Adam guided her back to the bench and sat beside her. ‘No need. I had everything under control.’

  ‘Is the fire out?’

  He nodded. ‘Luckily it’s only damaged the rug and scorched the table. But any longer and the whole house could have gone up.’

  ‘With me in it.’ Chloe shivered. ‘Thank goodness you were here.’ She paused. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘I popped over to see your mum, and when there was no answer at the door, I came around the back to check she wasn’t in the garden.’

  ‘She’s at work.’

  ‘But her car’s in the driveway.’

  ‘She walks unless it’s raining.’

  ‘And your grandfather?’

  ‘He’s gone fishing with Max. I was here on my own.’

  ‘Just as well I did pop round then.’

  Chloe frowned. ‘But how did you get in? The back door was locked.’

  ‘I’m afraid I had to smash a window.’ Chloe followed his gaze to the back door. The small pane of glass closest to the handle was broken, leaving a jagged edge like shark’s teeth. ‘I’ll call someone out to fix it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said as her eyes drifted down to the crazy paving by the doorstep. It was littered with fragments of broken glass. She was lucky not to have cut her feet to pieces.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  CHLOE

  Chloe stood under the hot shower, letting the water rinse the smell of smoke from her hair. She still had a headache, and when she blew her nose, the tissue had been black, but her lungs felt clear, and her breathing was back to normal. She’d had a lucky escape.

  Adam had wanted to take her to A&E to have her checked over as a precaution, but she’d convinced him she was fine. He’d offered to call her mum to ask her to leave work early. He’d even volunteered to fetch Grandpa from his fishing trip. But Chloe wasn’t having any of it. She couldn’t bear the fuss.

  As the water ran down her body in comforting torrents, she wondered again how the fire could have started. She’d been lighting their open fires for years. Grandpa had taught her when she was about twelve. He’d said it was an essential life skill, like being able to gut a fish or skin a rabbit. Not that she’d ever seen him skin a rabbit, but apparently he had during the war.

  She’d drawn the line at rabbits, though had been happy to master the art of starting a fire. But she was super careful and always used the fireguard, especially if the logs were damp and likely to spit. She pictured the fireplace in her mind’s eye. Had the guard been there when Adam had pulled her to safety? She couldn’t remember.

  Her mum had bought the rug at a knockdown price from a stall at the local market. It was probably acrylic or nylon or something equally flammable. Chloe turned off the shower, squeezed the water out of her hair and wrapped herself in a towel. She’d been lucky this time. Smoke inhalation caused more than half of all fire-related deaths, according to Google. She’d looked it up as Adam had swept up the broken glass and called an emergency glazier. What if he hadn’t been there to drag her to safety? She pushed the thought from her mind.

  Drying herself quickly, she padded onto the landing and found clean clothes in the airing cupboard. When she was dressed, she headed back down to the snug to investigate the damage.

  The caustic smell of smoke still clung to the sofa and curtains even though Adam had thrown open every window in the room. It was arctic-cold. Chloe stood in the doorway and hugged herself warm. Her schoolbooks and laptop were exactly where she’d left them on the coffee table. The fireguard was folded into four at the side of the brick chimney breast. How could she have been so stupid not to have put it in place after she’d lit the fire?

  Chloe went in search of Adam, who was pacing around the garden, his hands thrust in his pockets.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  Chloe nodded.

  ‘The glazier’s promised to be here in half an hour. I’ll wait until he’s finished then leave you in peace. Are you sure you don’t want me to phone your mum?’

  ‘She’ll only make a fuss. Thanks anyway. I’ll stick the kettle on.’

  Adam followed her back into the kitchen and watched as she busied herself making a cafetière of coffee. Her hands were still trembling as she placed his cup and saucer on the table.

  ‘I think you probably saved my life,’ she said.

  ‘I happened to be
in the right place at the right time, that’s all. How’s the revision going?’

  Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Slowly. I’ve found it hard to keep focussed, what with that photo business and waitressing and everything. I’m so going to bomb my exams.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re not. Remind me what you need for Kingsgate?’

  She grimaced. ‘Three As.’

  ‘And one of your kidneys?’ Adam joked.

  Chloe grinned. ‘Not one of my smoke-damaged lungs, anyway. Ben’s so lucky to have had an unconditional offer.’

  Adam tilted his head and regarded her intently. ‘It doesn’t seem fair, does it? But my offer to set up a meeting with Jan Steel still stands. If she met you, saw how keen you were to get into the law school, she’d make you an unconditional offer, I know she would. Say the word, and I’ll fix it.’

  There was a rap at the front door, and Adam drained his coffee. ‘That’ll be the glazier. I’ll let him in.’

  Chloe flashed him a grateful smile and curled her fingers around her cup as she considered his offer. She was so bloody tempted. After all, life hadn’t exactly been good to her recently. Ben’s infatuation, him almost totalling his dad’s car, the party, creepy Patrick and his terrible job, the photo on Snapchat, her panic attack and now the fire. It was no wonder she was finding it impossible to revise. She was stressed to the max. The way she was going, it would be a bloody miracle if she came away with three Bs, which wouldn’t even get her into her second choice. She’d end up in clearing, under pressure to choose a crap course at an even crapper university and her life would basically be over.

  And yet Adam was offering her the one thing she coveted most for no other reason than the fact he wanted the best for her. Chloe was pretty sure privately-educated kids had little compunction when it came to using their parents’ network of contacts to give them a leg-up. And could she blame them?

  One thing was for sure. She didn’t want to end up like her mum, bowing and scraping to a tosser like Patrick all her life.

  Adam wanted to help her. Chloe needed his help.

  What would be so wrong in accepting a little help for once in her life?

  Chapter Forty-Three

  KATE

  Kate felt the colour drain from her cheeks as she stared at her daughter.

  ‘A fire?’

  Chloe flicked her hair off her face. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s fine. Adam put it out.’

  ‘What was he doing here?’

  ‘He’d come to see you.’

  ‘But I told him I was working today.’

  ‘He said he was driving past and saw your car in the drive. Luckily, he came around the back to see if you were in the garden and saw smoke coming out of the window of the snug.’

  Kate was finding it all rather hard to take in. ‘But you’re all right?’

  ‘I told you, I’m fine. I had a bit of a headache, but it’s gone now. So you can stop fussing.’

  ‘And what about the house?’ Kate said, pushing past her into the kitchen.

  ‘Your hearth rug is toast, the coffee table is a bit singed, and there’s a burn on the floorboards, but no other damage. It’s a good job Adam turned up when he did.’

  ‘A very good job,’ Kate said faintly. ‘Where was Grandpa when all this was going on?’

  ‘Fishing with Max.’

  Kate glanced at the line of boots by the back door. There was a space where her father’s boots should have been. ‘He’s not back?’

  ‘How should I know? I’ve been revising upstairs.’ For the first time since Kate had arrived home, a flicker of doubt crossed Chloe’s features. ‘Come to mention it, I haven’t heard him.’

  ‘But it’s almost dark.’ Kate gazed out of the window. A tired-looking woman with deep frown lines glared back at her. With a start, she realised she was staring at her reflection. Christ, she looked knackered. She sighed. ‘I’d better go and fetch him.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. I could do with some fresh air.’ Chloe pulled on her boots and coat and wound a scarf around her neck.

  ‘I hope he’s OK,’ Kate said, as they marched across the garden into the woods behind the house.

  ‘He’ll be fine. He’s got Max with him.’

  For once it was Chloe who was struggling to keep up as Kate strode through the woods towards the river. It was that bleak time between dusk and full-on darkness when the birds had stopped singing and the trees cast unearthly shadows in their path. At least as they drew closer to the river, the sound of rushing water filled the silence.

  ‘He’s probably up by the footbridge,’ Chloe said. ‘That’s where the trout are biting at the moment.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Kate said, surprised.

  ‘Because I take the time to talk to him?’

  ‘And you’re saying I don’t?’

  ‘You’re too busy telling him off for leaving crumbs on the table and nagging him about his maggots. So yes, since you’re asking, I am.’

  Stung, Kate plunged her hands deep into her pockets and peered into the gloom. She could just about make out the ebony arch of the old wooden structure against the indigo sky.

  ‘Pa?’ she called. ‘Are you there?’

  At once, there was a loud bark as Max came crashing through the undergrowth, almost knocking Kate over. She grabbed his collar, and he licked her hand. ‘Pa,’ she shouted again, trying to suppress the sense of unease that was settling like heartburn deep inside her chest. ‘It’s almost six. Time to call it a night.’

  Chloe switched on the torch app on her phone. They both stopped while she waved it in the direction of the river. ‘There he is,’ she said, as the beam jerked and twitched over a chair-shaped shadow. ‘Grandpa!’ There was no answer.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ Kate said, quickening her pace until she was almost running. Max, clearly thinking it was a game, capered beside her, his tail quivering in excitement. As she stumbled over a tree root, he broke free of her grip and bounded over to his master, but the old man didn’t bend down to pat his head or tweak his ear. He didn’t move at all. Kate’s sense of unease deepened.

  She took out her own phone, turned on the torch and shone it in her father’s face. He was sitting in his fishing chair, his shoulders rounded, his eyes closed and his head slumped forwards. Chloe gasped.

  ‘Oh, Christ.’ Kate dropped to her knees in front of the chair and took his hand. ‘Pa? It’s me, Katie.’

  ‘Is he asleep?’ Chloe said in a small voice.

  Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ She dropped his hand and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. ‘Pa, wake up. You’re scaring us.’

  But her father didn’t move.

  ‘Oh my God, is he dead?’

  ‘I don’t know, Chlo,’ Kate said again. ‘Phone for an ambulance. Tell them he might have had a heart attack. Or a stroke. I’m going to see if I can find a pulse.’

  Chloe let out a small sob and stepped away, her phone pressed to her ear. Kate turned back to her father and tried to remember her first aid training. ‘ABC,’ she muttered. ‘Airway, breathing, circulation.’ She tilted his head back and leant towards him to see if she could feel his breath on her cheek, watching his chest all the time to see if it moved.

  At first, she dismissed the faint flutter of air as the wind blowing across from the river. But when she saw his old Barbour jacket rise and fall, she rocked back on her heels and shouted to Chloe, ‘He's breathing!’

  ‘He’s breathing,’ Chloe relayed to the call taker in a shaky voice. ‘But it’s still an emergency so please, please come as quickly as you can.’

  The next thirty minutes were the longest of Kate’s life. She and Chloe draped their coats over the old man’s shoulders, and they sat at his feet trying to rub warmth into his hands. His breathing was so slow and so shallow that Kate had to keep checking it hadn’t stopped altogether. When she lost all feeling in her feet, she stood up and began collecting his things. The Tupperware box of maggots, his rod and
landing net. The little wooden tackle box he’d had since he was a boy. The coffee in his flask was stone cold, so she tipped it onto the grass and screwed the lid up tight. She found the cup below the right arm of the chair.

  ‘D’you think he’s had a stroke?’ Chloe asked quietly.

  Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. His face hasn’t dropped.’

  ‘A heart attack, then?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Tears were streaming down Chloe’s face. Kate squeezed her shoulder and smiled. ‘He’ll be all right, Chlo. You know Grandpa, he’s as strong as an ox.’ She cocked her head, picking up the faint wail of a siren. ‘Thank God, they’re here at last.’

  Within minutes, the ambulance had pulled up in the small gravel car park on the other side of the river, and two cheerily efficient paramedics loped over the footbridge.

  ‘It’s my father,’ Kate said. ‘Anthony Kennedy. We found him about half an hour ago. He’d been fishing,’ she added unnecessarily.

  The elder of the two paramedics took her father’s hand and felt for a pulse. He nodded to his colleague. ‘Stretcher please, Keith. And we’re going to need some oxygen.’

  ‘Is he going to be all right?’ Chloe asked, hopping from foot to foot.

  ‘He’s still breathing, but he’s unconscious, and his heart rate is very low, so we’re going to blue light him to hospital. Would one of you like to travel with him?’

  ‘I will,’ Chloe said at once.

  Kate shook her head, ready to protest, but Chloe put up a hand to silence her. ‘You take the car, Mum. We’ll need it to bring Grandpa home. And he’s going to need his pyjamas and toothbrush and stuff if they keep him in for the night. I’ll phone you when we get there to let you know how he is.’ Chloe took her grandfather’s hand. ‘I’ll stay with him,’ she said again, broking no argument.