Page 59 of From LA to London, With Love

I stopped, frozen with fear, when I reached the living room. A curtain was ablaze, white-gold flames shooting up, licking the ceiling, a haze of smoke surrounding it. A candle must have toppled off the mantelpiece, setting the curtain alight. One of the candles I had placed there. Crap.

“Oh god!” Josh exclaimed behind me.

I turned to see that Mum, Dad, Chris, and Josh had just arrived, their eyes wide as they registered the situation.

“I’ll call the fire brigade.” Dad pulled out his phone.

“My painting!” Mum’s voice choked as she stared in horror at the flames dancing only inches from the frame.

“Water!” I yelled, racing back toward the kitchen, Josh following behind. As I ran past the dining room, I yelled to my grandparents to take Elliot and Alfie outside. I didn’t want to risk them inhaling the smoke or being stuck in here if the fire got worse.

I looked around the kitchen for the biggest receptacle I could find. A large pot on the stove, remnants of curry in the bottom, caught my eye. I shoved it under the tap and began filling it with water.

Josh started pulling the trash bag, which was overflowing, out of the bin.

“I don’t think now is the time to take out the trash, Josh!” I said, staring at him in disbelief as he dumped the bag on the ground.

“I’m going to fill this with water, you duffer!” Josh lifted the empty bin.

“Oh right. Sorry.” The pot full, I raced back to the living room.

I’d been wondering why Chris and Mum weren’t helping with the water, and as soon I entered, it became clear. They were on a rescue mission to save Mum’s painting.

Chris stood on a chair, reaching over the mantle to lift the painting off the hook. He was far too close to the blaze for my liking. Mum stood under him, giving him instructions.

“Be careful of your hands! If you have a good grip on it, lift it up and pass it down to me. Don’t put your head too close to the flames!”

I raced in and threw the water at the bottom of the curtain, careful not to splash the painting. My heart sank. It didn’t make an iota of difference. I stood back to see how the painting retrieval operation was going.

Coughing, Chris carefully lifted the painting up and passed it down to Mum, who rushed out of the room with it. As Mum left, Josh ran in with the bin of water and threw it at the curtain. The flames dulled for a moment, before jumping back to their spirited dance. My heart thumped in my ears, my chest tight. Would the entire house go up in smoke, thanks to my poor candle placement?

Dad, coughing as he pulled furniture as far away from the flames as possible, looked up at me. “The fire brigade should be here soon. I think we should get out of here. The smoke is getting thicker.”

We grabbed what we could carry: a side table, lamp, books, and Mum’s reading glasses. I took a long look around the room as I shut the door, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time I saw it, the last time I stood in this house as I knew it, and then I walked out the front door. Mum, Dada, and Dadi were standing on the front footpath, Elliot in Dadi’s arms, the precious painting in Mum’s. Chris and Dad were by my side, but Josh was nowhere to be seen.

Panic rose in my throat. “Where’s Josh?”

I turned back around, looking down the smoky hallway. Should I go back in to find him?

I breathed out as Josh’s silhouette emerged. He ran down the hall, holding something. I blinked twice as my eyes, stinging from the smoke, focused on what was in his hands.

It was the plate of thepla.

I looked up at Josh, making no effort to hide my disbelief. Food was the last thing on my mind at a time like this. At a time when my home was at risk of being engulfed in flames.

“What? I’m hungry, and who knows when we’ll get back inside,” Josh said, sounding defensive.

I shook my head as we walked down the front steps.

Josh, munching on a piece, offered the thepla to my family and Chris, who stood in silence, watching the house. Unsurprisingly, there were no other takers.

Dad and Mum went to tell our neighbors what had happened, encouraging them to evacuate just in case the fire spread to their houses, which shared walls with ours. Suddenly, the window closest to the flames shattered, and flames and smoke started billowing out of it.

I flinched. “Oh god!”

“They should be here any minute,” Chris said, rubbing my back as sirens sounded in the distance.

I looked up at him and noticed his eyebrow and hair were slightly singed, presumably as a result of the painting retrieval mission. Fingers crossed the hair and makeup department would be able to fix it so it didn’t cause any continuity problems for the film. A vision of the director, shaking her head and cursing Chris, popped into my head.