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‘There’s a fire in one of the flats.’
A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.No.I can’t tell which direction the smoke is coming from. The police have cordoned off the area and I can’t tell where the fire is either. There is commotion everywhere.
I gulp. ‘Do you know which building?’
‘They’ve been trying to contain the fire. It started in that one over there, the furthest one, on the opposite side.’
No this can’t be true.It can’t be my building.
‘Have they got everyone out? Has... Has anyone been hurt?’
‘No idea, love. What a tragedy... They never do maintenance on these old buildings. Tenants have been complaining for years.’ She stands there shaking her head, arms folded across her chest to keep the cold out.
Both of us look on at the tragedy unfolding before us in a state of shock and trauma. I feel like I had just left one battlefield of carnage to walk right into another.
All I can think about are my paintings in the spare room. Years and years of collecting. Saving up. I didn’t care about any other material things. But those paintings were my life’s work. That’s what got me through the tough times at Oxford. When I felt like I didn’t fit in. Like I’d never fit in with my accent and my upbringing. Those paintings were a form of life support for me. I would cling to the idea that those paintings would save me one day. They would resuscitate me. My career. They kept my dreams alive. They gave me hope.
And now they were gone.
Tears stream down my face as the full impact of what I’m looking at starts to hit me.My paintings, I want to scream. Who knows what they could have been, and I certainly will never get to find out.
I cannot stand here any longer watching my life, all of my hopes and dreams go up in flames. I just don’t have the strength to deal with this.
I wander off and sit in my car for a long time, the support of the seat a welcomed comfort. Where can I go to hide from the misery of the world?
I need to get away from here. I need out of this town, out of this county. I need to get as far away as possible.
I wipe the tears away and blow my nose. I turn on the ignition and I drive.
Chapter 43
Jack
Over the course ofthe next two days, I get what feels like hundreds of text messages of support from Gerik, Dalton, Bruno, Anders, Dom and others, but I am yet to hear from the one person I need to hear from. I’ve had no contact from Leyna whatsoever since the evening at the vice-chancellor’s house.
This is the longest I’ve been away from Leyna in ages and I miss everything about her—her touch, her smell, the feel of her skin. I never once thought I’d find someone like her, not in a million years. Everyone, including myself, thought I’d be a perennial bachelor. It’s been difficult for me to trust, to commit to anything longer than a fling. But I’ve finally found something good, someone I could trust, and I’ve gone and fucked it all up.
