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‘Don’t blame it all on me.’ Tom swung around to face her. ‘You don’t need me. Don’t pretend you do, just to make me feel bad.’
‘I don’t believe this. What’s happened to you?’
Tom shook his head. ‘Maybe we jumped in too soon. Didn’t get to know each other. You’re not the same person that you were when you were seventeen.’
‘Of course, I’m not. We all have to grow up at some point. Clearly you’ve regressed.’ Holly sighed. Where was the guy that cracked jokes every five minutes? Who made her feel really beautiful? ‘It was you who proposed to me, remember? I hardly forced you into it. You wanted the quick wedding. Said … you said I was …’ Holly stopped as her throat tightened.
‘I made a mistake.’
Holly clenched her fists by her side. ‘Who are you, Tom? I don’t even recognise you.’ She shook her head. ‘You never complained about our relationship. How many times did you call me your soul mate? Your everything?’
Tom stopped pacing and stared at her. ‘Look, it’s over. All over. Grace needs me.’
‘Spare me the details.’ Holly’s legs shook under the table.
Tom’s mobile phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. ‘Hi, babe, I won’t be long I –’
Lowering his arm, he scowled at the screen. ‘Battery’s dead. Can I borrow a charger?’
‘No, you can’t.’ Holly’s heart pounded.Is this really happening?The kitchen appeared to turn red before her eyes. Rising, she pointed to the door. ‘Get your stuff. And go.’ Holly’s hand shook at the end of her extended arm.
Tom left the room. Slumping back to the table, Holly folded her arms, placing her head onto them as she sobbed silently, feeling a cold chill fill her veins.
Still at the kitchen table,Holly heard Tom’s car engine as he drove off. She was unaware of the time but it was now dark. Standing up she pulled a bottle of red from the wine rack and took it upstairs. Opening the door to her bedroom she saw the wardrobe, half empty, where Tom had removed his clothes. She slammed its doors shut, before lying on her bed fully clothed. A picture flashed in her mind of when they’d arrived home from their wedding party. Tom had whispered in her ear, ‘Welcome home, Mrs. Stone.’ Even though she had not changed her name; Loveland women never did for it was the name of the nursery. It had been a small ceremony at a hotel in Wells with a champagne toast, then back to the Eversley Arms for drinks and a buffet. Tom had said he did not want to save for a big ceremony – ‘Let’s do it now. I know you’re the one.’ And she had believed him, trusted him.
Breathing in the pleasant scent of her freshly-laundered bed linen, she planned to scrub the cottage through from one end to the other, to get rid of every trace of Tom. Sitting up, she unscrewed the wine, pouring some into the glass at her bedside, usually reserved for water. The cold liquid, nowhere near room temperature, tasted unpleasantly bitter. Pulling a face, she refilled the glass. Holly ached to call Jaz, to hear a friendly voice but she had left her mobile, along with the painting, in the van. She had missed the competition deadline.
Downing the last of the wine she placed the empty glass on the bedside table and fell into a restless sleep, with the empty bottle at her side.
Holly dreamed she was in a cave with Tom and Grace. Laughing at her, they pointed, throwing back their heads, holding their sides. Searing siren noise rang in her ears like the soundtrack of a horror movie as she was sucked forward towards a furnace. Feeling the heat of the flames lashing at her, the Devil appeared, his red-tipped, spindly fingers beckoned her. Lost souls wailed; grey, naked bodies covered the floors, writhing as if in pain. A sickening smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils. Then came violins playing a two-beat march in the distance. She turned towards a light, her legs felt heavy as she dragged them along – her mind raced towards the brightness – willing herself to get closer. There was an explosion.
Holly woke in a sweat, her clothes felt soggy against her skin. Finding it hard to drag herself out of the dream, the smell of burning remained in her nostrils and her ears filled with the noise of sirens. Her eyes took time to adjust, her head still muzzy from wine. Then she saw it – smoke snaking into the room from under her bedroom door.
Holly launched off the bed, hearing the wine bottle fall then roll across the floor. She spluttered as rising smoke gushed up her nose and into her mouth. Rubbing her stinging eyes, she moved her head from side to side trying to focus on something, to get her bearings. The room seemed to be spinning. She reached out and felt for the wardrobe and steadied herself – shocked at how quickly the smoke filled the room. Thinking she was going to vomit, she bent over spluttering as charcoal air puffed into the back of her throat.
Moving forward, she gingerly touched the door handle and screamed as metal burnt her fingertips. The fire was too close.Shutting her eyes, she realised the need for calm – now was not the time to take deep breaths.Knowing the only way out was through the window, she took small steps towards the curtains then stopped, wondering whether there would be a backdraft.Sliding across the floor she made for the bed, her legs shook. Her head was dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Ripping the eiderdown off her bed, she dragged it to the door plugging the gap where the smoke plumed. Sitting down on the soft material, she looked towards her escape route.I haven’t much time,she thought as shepulled herself up to standing.She staggered over to the window and lifted the latch as blue lights flashed in the customer car park. Gulping in fresh air, she sat on the windowsill swinging her legs over so they dangled off the ledge. She observed the ground below. A ladder rose up and she heard taps on the metal from the fireman’s boots as he raced up and grabbed her hand. Another explosion ripped through the nursery.Holly wobbled as she clutched onto the rungs of the ladder.
With teeth chattering and body vibrating, she scanned her studio, nursery and home. Fire flickered in the windows and flames shot up through the roof. A flutter of ferocious orange and yellow embers danced like birds to a deafening tune as they pecked away at her life, her history, her world.
‘Come on, we need to be quick,’ the fireman shouted.
As she descended the ladder, the heat came in waves, mixed with a whipping wind, which fed the furnace as mist from water-jets basted her cheeks.
‘Is anyone else inside?’ called the fireman supporting her on the ladder.
Without taking her eyes off the burning buildings she shouted above the din. ‘No. I live alone.’ Holly breathed in sharply then wailed until her lungs were empty.
Holly satin the ambulance with an oxygen mask on her face, wrapped in a foil blanket, feeling like left-over food from a barbecue. The paramedic held her hand, speaking to her gently. She found it calming, even though she could not make out what he was saying.
‘Holly isn’t it?’ A woman’s high-pitched voice cut through the blur.
Before her, she saw a police officer had entered the ambulance with a pen poised over her notebook. Removing the oxygen mask Holly opened her mouth but no words came out. Hot tears stung her cheeks. Nodding, she wiped her face with the back of her hand.
‘My name is P.C. Erin Bartlett. Do you know how the fire started?’
Holly shook her head. ‘No. I was asleep.’ She felt cold, even with the foil blanket. Cold inside, right inside her bones, staring at the flames flickering in the distance.
‘Do you remember anything? It seems to have started in the middle building.’
