He looks at her questioningly, a trace of doubt passing his features.
‘What makes you say that?’
There is a hint of accusation in his voice and she lowers her eyes, searching for flip-flops, which she shoves her feet into urgently.
And that’s when they hear it, poised on the threshold of this argument, facing up to each other. Another siren. The sound is distant, but approaching, if they listen hard enough. Tim and Lottie lock eyes, searching each other’s faces, reading recognition, comprehension and finally fear. Wordlessly, they move towards the bedroom door and then out onto the landing and through to the back of the house. As they cross the lounge, Lottie registers the change in temperature; the air is hotter, thicker, dirtier – as though something silent and insidious is permeating the walls.
‘God, look at the view,’ says Tim, his voice filled with awe and dread as he casts a glance at the wide panoramic window. Normally it boasts the most perfect vista; boats rocking gently in the water, a sailor-blue sky or a clear twinkly night. But right now the bay is illuminated in an unnatural light that renders it alive in an awful, menacing way. The water below looks to be aflame, reflecting a fiery glow, and the sky itself is filling with smoke, almost clouding over before their eyes.
Quickly now, they move into the kitchen, struggle with the latches and bolts of the back door. Just as they are about to open it and step outside, their footsteps are stalled, their bodies frozen to the spot in paralysis. It is as though they have been struck by lightning, electrocuted. The whole house shakes, its foundations seem to tremble, the roof quivering. An unholy sound; the collapsing of metal and wood, slowly and yet all at once. Lottie can only imagine that this must be what an earthquake might feel like or perhaps an exploding bomb.
Instinctively, they drop to their knees, crouching down, Tim covering Lottie and Josh with his body like a protective carapace. She can feel Josh cling to her, clawing at her T-shirt with grasping hands as he begins to wail.
‘Shh,’ she says, rubbing his back, laying a hand over his head, smothering his ears as though she might insulate him entirely. She hopes to soothe herself at the same time, console them all with her innate maternal hushing, the only way she can control her breathing, slow her heart rate.
‘What the fuck was that?’ says Tim, his voice abnormally high and shaky.
Somewhere in her subconscious, Lottie acknowledges that he must be really frightened. She can feel his body sending small tremors through her skin. Slowly, he stands up but in a cautious way, as one who expects the roof to fall in, the whole world to come crashing down around their ears.
‘We need to get out of here,’ she hears herself say in some small, dislocated voice that doesn’t sound like her own. Her body floods with adrenaline now, the instinct to protect her son, save herself, it courses through her and she stands, wrenches open the door.
‘Lottie, be careful. Wait,’ she hears Tim call out to her.
Her arms feel tired, her legs like jelly, but she pulls Josh into a closer bear hug and runs out into the garden and up the steps. Her thighs protest, her breath catching on the hot smoke anddust. She shucks off her flip-flops, toes craving purchase on the ground. The wail of sirens is close and insistent now, coming and going from all directions. She does not look back, will not think about the house next door, which she knows now is an inferno, precarious. The fire is an animal that has been let loose and runs amok, out of control. She doesn’t even look to see if Tim is following them. Her only priority is her child, her son, his safety. Later, sometime in the future, this fact will return to her, surprise her even, as the cuts and blisters on her feet continue to heal, her throat still sore and burned.
40
Tobias is making his way back down to the hotel lobby, hoping to find someone on night duty who could be persuaded to make him some coffee, maybe shed some light on what’s occurring down in the town, when he feels his phone vibrating in his trouser pocket.
He expects to see Olivia’s name flash up on the screen, hoping that she will have a good explanation for where she’s been, when he sees it is an unknown mobile number. He is about to ignore it as he usually does – he gets so many scam callers these days – but then, given the peculiar turn of the evening, the unsociable hour, he decides to answer.
‘Dad?’ says the voice at the other end. It is Bella and he can hear the stuttering lilt of fear in her voice. ‘Dad, it’s me. There’s been an accident.’
‘Where are you?’ he demands to know. ‘Is this something to do with the fire? I heard sirens.’
‘What? No, I don’t know. Daddy, it’s Drew. We’re at the beach. Further along, you know that cove? We drove past it on the way here. Can you come? Quickly.’
She has started to cry now. He can hear noises in the background. Young people, shouting, swearing, their voices high with panic.
‘Whose phone is this?’ asks Tobias, ‘Who are you with?’
‘A friend’s. One of Drew’s. It doesn’t matter. Just come.’
‘Calm down,’ says Tobias. He never could stand the sound of a woman crying. ‘What’s wrong with your brother? What’s happened?’
She starts up another laboured wail, hiccupping and sobbing, so that the words are unintelligible.
‘Slow down. I can’t hear you. Say again.’
‘He was swimming,’ blurts Bella. ‘In the water. But he’s disappeared, gone. We can’t see him anymore.’
‘Christ, what do you mean?’
Tobias pats down his trousers again and is relieved to find his car keys in the back pocket as he strides out of the foyer and towards the car park.
‘Get help, Belle. Do it now. Ask for the police, coastguard.’
‘We can’t.’
