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“How long will you be gone?”
“A couple of hours, but I could come back earlier if you want. You have my number, just in case…”
I relent. I’d love a bit of Daddy time with my daughter. “It’ll be fine. Take as long as you like.” I bounce Morgan on my knee and juggle a twirl of pasta on my fork. I’m becoming quite adept at eating one-handed. “We’ll have fun, just the two of us.”
“How much longer are you going to be away? I have shit that needs doing.”
“I don’t know, boss. Not much longer, I hope.” Ethan’s been patient, but it’s been nearly two weeks, and Ruth still refuses to consider coming back to Scotland with me. “Call it paternity leave.”
“I call it fucking around. I need you heading up the acquisition of the Sapphire Club. And Charlie Edwards has been nicked again, so the Dundee line needs new management.”
“Can’t Tony manage it? Or Aaron?”
He sighs. “Probably. Right, I can give you another couple of days, then I need you back here. Okay?”
“Sure,” I promise.
I’ll need to step up my campaign, or charm offensive as I prefer to think of it. Ethan won’t be kept waiting, and I’m sure as hell not leaving without Ruth and Morgan.
I wake with a start. It’s pitch-dark, and I judge the time to be around three in the morning. There’s an acrid smell in my nostrils. I take a moment to process, then leap out of bed.
Burning. Smoke.
The fucking house is on fire!
I grab my jeans and drag them on without fastening them, then a sweatshirt. I open the bedroom door. I’m immediately choking on smoke billowing across the landing.
Coughing, I make my way the few paces through the dense fog to the room where Ruth and Morgan are sleeping. I burst in and shut the door behind me.
Ruth is still asleep. I shake her by the shoulder. “Wake up. Fire!”
She opens her eyes. “What…?” Realisation dawns at once. She bolts up, her eyes wide. “Oh God…”
I snatch Morgan from her cot beside the bed. “What’s the best way out?”
“I…I don’t know. The front door…?”
“Right. Follow me.” I cradle the baby against my chest and open the door to the landing again. The smoke is thicker, and there’s the orange, flickering glow of flames somewhere by the stairs. The crackling sound is near deafening.
“We can’t get out that way,” I yell. “Go back.”
The bedroom is fast filling with smoke, but we stumble over to the window. I hand Morgan to Ruth and fumble with the catch. It seems to take forever because my eyes are streaming and I can barely breathe, but I eventually manage to open it and lean out, gasping.
The narrow roof over the bay window in the lounge is directly below us. It looks as if it might take a bit of weight, but in any case, we’re short on choices here.
“We can climb out this way,” I take Ruth’s ashen face between my hands. “You go first. I’ll follow, with Morgan.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Can you manage the climb, with a baby in your arms?”
She lets out a sob and drags a chair over to the windowsill. “I have to.”
I stand my ground. On this, she has to do it my way. “No. You’ll fall. Or drop her. Best if you go first, and I’ll lower her down to you.”
She starts to protest, but mercifully she sees the logic. And we’re fast running out of time so we can’t waste it arguing.
She nods. “Right.”
