False fire Read online

  ‘Not us, honest!’ The girls shook their heads, wide-eyed.

  Faye wasn’t listening. ‘Ninette was useless as usual, weeping and wailing because her husband wanted to see that Daphne was properly looked after and Gideon said … Honestly! He thinks far more of his father than he does of me!’

  Who was Ninette? Oh, the anorexic blonde opposite, married to … someone else at the table. Married to Daphne’s first husband? Is that right?

  ‘And no sooner had they all cleared off and I started to look for my pearls, than the lights went out and—’

  ‘Everyone went with them?’ The man wanted to be sure he’d understood.

  ‘—I said, how was I supposed to get back home, and Gideon said I could get a taxi, couldn’t I?’

  Bea surveyed the room. ‘What happened to the waitresses?’

  ‘They refused to deal with broken glass and blood and left.’

  The man said, ‘Faye, which hospital?’

  Faye pounced. ‘There’s another of my pearls. And two more. Hospitals. Plural. The old man wanted private treatment and Daphne’s going to need cosmetic surgery by the look of it. Ah,’ she swooped, ‘there’s another one.’

  Bea’s phone rang. Leon, again. ‘Bea, where have you got to? Why didn’t you answer your phone?’

  ‘Leon, I’m still at the house, looking after the girls—’

  He broke in, ‘Steve needs help looking after Daphne. She’s in a terrible state. She won’t let them sedate her or stitch her up till they’ve produced a plastic surgeon. At this time of night! She’s lost so much blood that … She needs someone to calm her down. Steve’s hopeless. I said you’d do it. She’s got two ex-husbands in tow … no, one of them’s current, isn’t he? Worse than useless, both of them.’

  ‘Leon, listen! We rescued the children, but—’

  ‘I really can’t deal with hysterical women. You know how to treat—’

  ‘Leon, I’ve got to ring off. I’m worried about the fire here. It may be out, but I’d like to be sure. I’ll ring you back.’

  The man was holding on to his temper, just. ‘Faye, leave your treasure hunt for the moment. Who went with whom? They did take the housekeeper to hospital with the others, didn’t they?’

  Bernice started for the hall, calling out, ‘Mrs Frost?’

  Alicia followed her. They stood in the doorway, hand in hand and wide eyed, looking up into the darkness.

  Faye shrugged. ‘What a waste of space that woman is, letting the children set off fireworks inside the house. She’ll be lucky to have a job in the morning. I’m sure she’s perfectly all right. Her kind always are. I’ve got to get all my pearls. If it hadn’t been for the lights going off …’

  The man pushed the children gently aside, and started across the hall. Bea caught up with them. She held up her phone to light the space.

  He peered into the darkness, head cocked to listen. The light in Bea’s phone hardly made any difference.

  He said, almost to himself, ‘There was a fire, we saw it. Not just on the landing – which I hope to God I managed to stamp out – but in the children’s room. I didn’t see any flames. But something set off those clouds of smoke. Maybe it was just smoke? But …’

  Bea confirmed, ‘We have to check.’

  Was that a faint cry from upstairs?

  Bea clutched her phone tightly. She didn’t want to let go of it. If she gave it to him, she’d be left in the dark with the two children. But, he needed it more than she did. Be brave, Bea. She handed it over to him.

  ‘Take it.’ She wanted to add, ‘Be careful!’ but shut her lips firmly on the words. He was no fool. He’d take care. He wouldn’t play the hero without assessing the risks. Probably.

  He took her phone, holding it high as he started up the stairs. Bea stayed where she was. The children clung to her, watching him turn the corner and start up the next flight. Bea wondered if she ought to have summoned an ambulance before he went upstairs. She wondered if they were making too much of the housekeeper’s non-appearance. She thought that this was a nightmare and she’d wake up soon. Shadows lengthened and hovered as he turned another corner and the light retreated with him.

  Faye stood in the doorway. Indignant. Sharp-voiced. ‘What are you doing! I’m still short of some pearls. I don’t know why the housekeeper’s not here to look after them. It’s not my business to look after naughty children who set fireworks off for a joke. And I am not going to be held responsible if the old man dies, or Daphne—’

  A wail from Alicia. Josh was her grandfather and Daphne her mother.

  Bernice made no sound, but tightened her grip on Bea. Bea knelt, holding the children to her. The stairs were uncarpeted. They could hear the man’s footfall continuing up through the house. He was possibly not moving as fast as earlier in the evening.

  Don’t try to be a hero! If there really is a fire, you should wait for the firemen!

  Faye said, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! What is it with this family? And isn’t it more than time those two naughty children were in bed?’

  Bernice appealed to Bea. ‘We did phone for the fire brigade, we did! Mrs Frost said we could watch the telly while she went down for a hot drink for us. She said she’d help us light our indoor fireworks when she got back and not to touch the box till then—’

  Fay pounced on that. ‘So of course you disobeyed her, you little horrors!’

  ‘We didn’t open the box, honest we didn’t!’

  ‘It went bang—’

  ‘It frighted us!’

  Faye snorted. ‘As if I believe that! It went on fire all by itself, did it? Pull the other one!’

  ‘Something whizzed and then there was black smoke and we screamed—’

  ‘And Bernice rang for the fire brigade, and they said we were playing silly games—’

  ‘And I tried to ring Mummy to tell her, and we thought Mrs Frost would come to get us out but the smoke choked me and I couldn’t breathe, so I laid down and did a little pray.’

  Two dirty little faces. Two tired, white faces.

  Faye snapped, ‘Serve you right if you’d fried to death!’

  ‘They nearly did,’ said Bea as, to her enormous relief, the man came down the stairs, treading one at a time, tiredly, with Mrs Frost over his shoulder. He knelt and let his burden slide down on to the hall floor. He wheezed. ‘She’s still alive, I think. I found her against the wall on the next flight up. Looks as if she took a tumble and knocked herself out. When we were coming down, we kept close to the banisters. We must have passed her in the dark. The smoke is gradually sinking down through the house. It’s thick up where she was.’ He coughed, but had the presence of mind to hand Bea back her phone. ‘Will you …?’

  Alicia whimpered, ‘Is Mrs Frost going to be all right?’

  The woman didn’t stir; eyes shut, hair flopping over her face, sensible clothing disarranged, one shoe off and one shoe on. Out for the count. Not dead, hopefully.

  Bea pressed the emergency number on her phone. Tried to think what address they were at. Gave it. ‘Yes, that’s right. Fire brigade and ambulance, please. As quick as you can. Yes, someone has been hurt.’

  The man drew a difficult breath. ‘Is there another fire extinguisher in the house? Not that I think one will do much good.’

  Faye said, ‘What’s wrong with the woman? I suppose she’s been at the drink!’

  Bea freed herself from the clinging children to kneel beside the unconscious woman and touch her throat. ‘There is a pulse. She’s warm. We ought to get her out into the fresh air, but it’s such a cold night … Perhaps we could find something to cover her? A coat, perhaps?’

  Bernice knelt, too. And touched. Bernice was a bright child, and brave. She looked up at Bea with a question in her eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bea, ‘the sooner we get her to hospital, the better.’

  Alicia whimpered. She was not as brave as Bernice, was she? Both children were in shock, but thankfully not coughing as much as they had been.
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  The man said, ‘We can’t fight the fire. You’re right. We’d best get out. Now, if we open the front door, it may accelerate the flames, but it’s the quickest way.’

  Faye screamed, ‘You can’t leave me! I haven’t got all my pearls yet!’

  Bea was sharp with her. ‘Lose your life, or lose a pearl or two. Claim it on insurance.’ She gathered the two girls to her. ‘Come on, my darlings. Have you got a coat or some sort of wraps down here? No? Well, I’ve left my pashmina somewhere and we’ll—’

  The man said, ‘I can’t see how … can you unbolt the door for us, Faye?’

  Faye screamed, ‘You can’t leave me!’

  Alicia’s face screwed into a frightened mask. Bernice put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. Bernice was frightened, too, but just about holding on to her sanity. In a moment the two of them would lose control and be more difficult to handle.

  Bea ran back into the dining room, lit by Faye’s torch. It was in disarray, but still recognizable as a room in which moneyed people had eaten well. She grabbed her pashmina and swept the two little girls to the front door. The man had got the top bolt undone, but was struggling with the bottom one.

  Alicia’s eyes were fixed on the stairs. She yelped and pointed. Black smoke was rolling around on the landing … or was that a trick of the light?

  The man stood back, panting. He’d finally managed to wrestle the bottom bolt open. He opened the door. Fresh, cold air flew in.

  ‘Out!’ Bea thrust the girls outside.

  The man picked up the housekeeper and followed them.

  Faye, in the doorway to the dining room, screamed, ‘You can’t leave me!’

  Bea hesitated.

  ‘Swoosh!’ Fed by an intake of air from the outside world, flames ignited under the pall of smoke on the landing.

  Bea grabbed Faye by the wrist and towed her out into the night, scattering pearls as they left.

  THREE

  ‘Quick!’ Bea slammed the door shut behind them.

  Oh, baby, it’s cold outside!

  Street lights! What a relief!

  Two warm bodies pressed against her. The children, shivering.

  ‘My pearls!’ Sobbing, Faye sank to her knees, beating at the closed door.

  Bernice gave a little hiccup. ‘She really isn’t very sensible, is she?’ Her voice wobbled.

  ‘You are wonderful children,’ said Bea, shepherding them on to the gravelled driveway. ‘Brave beyond belief! I am so proud of you!’

  Traffic moved on the road outside. It was a tree-lined street of expensive houses lit by the very latest in heritage lamps. Here were mansions individually designed for wealthy nineteenth-century merchants; solid houses, three or four storeys high – sometimes higher – plus a basement. Some had been left in red brick, others were finished in cream-painted stucco, some had coach houses and walled gardens, some had been adapted into flats. All were smugly conscious of their proximity to the world-famous Kew Gardens.

  Give or take ten million or so, such houses would be worth the attention of an oil millionaire. Hopefully they were insured.

  Bea told herself she was rambling. Disorientated.

  A bus rumbled past. A silver moon, high in the sky, could be glimpsed through the bare branches on lime trees that had been planted when the world was a lot younger.

  Ordinary, everyday traffic noises. Wonderful!

  Faye was still beating at the closed door. Idiot!

  The man’s breathing sounded harsh. He laid the housekeeper down on the gravelled surface of the drive, took off his jacket and laid it over her. She was as limp as a rag doll. He stood over her, feet well apart, hands on thighs, bent over, taking deep breaths. Recovering.

  A spit of rain.

  Bea shivered. She had her pashmina over her shoulders, and round the children, too. It wasn’t enough to protect them.

  As for Faye, her black silk shift started halfway down her fake boobs – pardon the term, but! – and finished just below her apology for a bottom. She was too bony to have a proper, rounded bottom. That shift wasn’t going to keep her warm, was it?

  The man said, ‘How … long … ambulance?’

  Bea tried them again. ‘Fireworks parties mean more accidents.’ Ring-ring, ring-ring. They were supposed to answer within so many seconds, weren’t they? Or was it minutes?

  It was beginning to rain. A nasty, cold, penetrating rain. They’d all catch their deaths if they stayed here.

  Another bus passed.

  If they caught a bus … but where would they go?

  Faye walked down the steps, slowly, as if on the catwalk. ‘You, Mrs Abbot, or whatever your name is! I’m going to sue the pants off you. You’ve not only caused me to lose my pearls, but you’ve assaulted me and exposed the children to the elements without a thought for anyone but yourself.’

  Bea blinked. Was that how it looked to Faye? She looked down at the children, who looked up at her with identical, enquiring, tearful faces. ‘Let’s find a neighbour to give us shelter, shall we? Alicia, do you know who lives next door?’

  A shrug. In a neighbourhood of detached houses, you might well not know your neighbour.

  Prompt on cue, an elderly man appeared from the house next door. He was holding up an umbrella with a spoke missing. He wore an overcoat which flapped around pyjama-clad legs and carpet slippers. He was holding up a mobile phone.

  An elderly retired academic? ‘Are you all right? Have you all got out safely? We saw the smoke when we went to let the cat out and the wife said she’d heard all the cars go out earlier, so we thought there might be no one left at home to ring the fire brigade, so she did, just in case. Oh, come in, do, or you’ll catch your death!’

  ‘About time!’ said Faye, stalking up the steps to the open front door of the tall, brick-built house next door.

  The neighbour spotted the housekeeper lying on the ground and tried to hold his umbrella over her. ‘Dear me. She doesn’t look too good, does she? I don’t know if my wife phoned for an ambulance as well.’

  ‘I did,’ said Bea. ‘Children, why don’t you go inside? I’ll wait here till the ambulance comes.’

  The man adjusted his jacket around Mrs Frost. ‘I’ll stay with her, and you see to the kids. Be good, Lissy!’

  This was only common sense. Bea didn’t like leaving him, but it was true that the children needed to be under cover. Both were shivering with the cold and from shock.

  She handed her phone to the man. ‘Take it. Just in case.’ Sweeping the children before her, Bea followed in Faye’s footsteps.

  Oh, warmth! A tiled hallway, an all-purpose living room with old-fashioned, sagging chairs and china ornaments on the mantelpiece. Somewhere to sit down!

  A bright-eyed little woman in a maroon velvet housecoat over a flannelette nightie welcomed them. Her husband darted back outside to the pavement, looking this way and that for the ambulance and fire brigade. He was high on adrenaline, having the time of his life.

  Within a few minutes Bea and the children were provided with hot drinks and swathed in coats and cardigans … which, Bea noted with concern, would all have to be cleaned before they could be used again, for of all the dirty, soot-encrusted ragamuffins, you’d find none worse on the streets of London that night! Bea had been wearing a brand-new dress in gold silk, with a softly folded bodice and a long skirt which she’d tied into a knot at the waistline after it had got torn. It was past repair. Tough. Worse things happen at sea.

  Only Faye looked almost as bandbox perfect as she had at the dinner table. True, she complained that the bodice of her dress had been saturated with blood, and there were some red blotches on her arms, but she got on to her phone straight away. ‘Giddy, where are you? You’ve got to come and get me, you’ve no idea! And my pearls …!’ A choking cry, a realistic sniff. ‘I’ve never been so frightened in my life …’

  Bea tuned the girl’s voice out, until she heard Faye cut off that conversation and start another, saying, ‘Can you come and
get me …? Yes, I told you where I had to be tonight. I couldn’t very well refuse. It was those naughty children’s birthday party, a three-line whip, Giddy needed me there, but it’s all gone wrong!’ Gulp, gulp! ‘The children set the house on fire! Yes, they did! I only just got out with my life, manhandled by some harridan, one of the guests, who … Yes, it’s true! And my fabulous pearls lost! So can you come and … No? A fine friend you are!’

  The girls turned their faces up to Bea and whispered that they hadn’t done it, honest! Bea believed them and said so, but there was no stopping Faye from giving her version of the story to her friends. No sooner had she finished one phone call than she made another, trying to get someone to collect her. Each time her lost pearls seemed to increase in value, as did the terror of the assault by ‘that harridan, the Abbot woman!’

  Faye only came off the phone to request something stronger to drink than the sugared tea which their kind hostess had provided for them. She was served with a tumbler of whisky, somewhat to Bea’s disgust, as she wouldn’t have minded something stronger herself … but not with two little girls at her knee, one of whom – Bernice – was still trembling, and the other – Alicia – weeping gently.

  The householder irrupted into the room to announce that the fire brigade had arrived at last, but there was no sign of an ambulance, which he was in the process of hurrying up, he didn’t know what the world was coming to, did he! And then, even in their sanctuary they heard the wail of a fire engine. Still talking on her phone, Faye drew back the curtains so that they could all see the lights flash, flash, flash …

  Not one, but two fire engines. Their host bobbed back in. ‘The paramedic’s come, and is working on your friend.’

  A third fire engine arrived. Alicia yawned and fell asleep on the floor at Bea’s feet. Bernice leaned across Bea’s lap; not properly asleep, but drifting in and out of consciousness.

  Back came their helpful neighbour. ‘It’s raining worse than ever. That poor woman hasn’t come round yet, so they’re taking her straight off to hospital!’ The neighbour was enjoying this in a way. Not so his elderly wife, who remarked that it was long past the children’s bedtime, wasn’t it? Meaning it was also past hers? Yes, probably. Bea tried to think what to do with the children. Didn’t she need to talk to someone official about the fire, and the children?