Page 1 of Summer at Harbour View House
1
A Fiery Night and an Overcast Morning
The flames lickedat the walls above the broken windows of the three-storey terrace. Natasha Bright stood across the street, behind a hastily erected police ticker tape line, while a tall fireman stood on the other side, arms spread wide as though expecting any of the dozen former residents to suddenly make a rush for the front door.
‘I managed to get my phone, my purse, and my gymnastics medals,’ said Hannah Lucas, who lived in Flat 2A, on the middle floor, across the hall from Natasha. As though to emphasise the joy these saves brought, she did a quick stretch of her lithe arms. ‘What about you?’
Natasha gave a frustrated flap at her dressing gown and slippers. ‘I’d just got out of the shower,’ she said, eyes glazing over as she stared at the flames licking up the side of the building, seemingly unperturbed by the fire hoses attempting to put them out. ‘I was just choosing a book to read before bed when the alarm went off.’
‘Oh, did you think it was a drill? I always grab my phone and purse, just in case. You never know when the bad luck god might point his finger at you.’
Natasha sighed. ‘I didn’t even know the building had an alarm,’ she said.
‘But you wrote down all your important contacts, didn’t you?’
Natasha felt her frustration boiling over. ‘Yeah, but not on a piece of paper I keep in my dressing gown pocket.’
Hannah just gave a nervous laugh, as though Natasha had been attempting a joke. ‘Well, at least no one was hurt. What do you think caused it?’
‘Probably Mrs. Williams and her heaters,’ Natasha said. ‘The floor was always so warm I didn’t need to use mine.’
‘Oh. Maybe that saved you a little money. Heating’s not cheap these days, is it?’
Natasha wasn’t quite sure what to say, so thought it best to say nothing. She stared at the flames flickering inside her own windows now, having eaten their way through the floor, then winced as a fireman smashed the window with a rock thrown from below, in order to angle a hose inside. Everything, gone. She had work in the morning and she could neither dress for it nor call in sick.
‘I imagine you’ll miss your little pencil flat,’ Hannah said.
Don’t slap her. Stare at the flames and watch your life burn.
‘2B,’ Hannah said, in case Natasha didn’t get it.
Please don’t say it.
‘I suppose it’s more like 2B or not to be,’ Hannah said, and Natasha stuffed her hands into her dressing gown pockets to stop herself from wrapping them around Hannah’s neck. Hannah didn’t appear to notice, as she chuckled suddenly and said, ‘So … you’re an evening shower person, are you? I’m more of a morning one, myself.’
There was a hatchet lying on the ground near one of the fire engines. Natasha purposely turned away and started walking up the street in her slippers, to resist the temptation to run and grab it.
‘I think it’s going to rain,’ Hannah said from behind her. ‘That would be convenient, wouldn’t it?’
An hour later, Natasha found herself in a police station sitting on a plastic chair, clutching a paper cup of scalding coffee. A young secretary barely older than the teenagers Natasha taught seemed more interested in the gum she was chewing than writing down Natasha’s answers to her questions.
‘So, did you smell any smoke?’
‘Of course I did.’
Chew, chew. Scribble, scribble.
‘And was it hot?’
‘It’s always hot, because the woman downstairs is some kind of desert dweller who cranks her heating to maximum even in midsummer.’
‘Do you have any injuries?’
‘No because I went outside when the alarm sounded.’
‘Right.’ Chew, chew. Scribble, scribble.
‘Have you notified anyone?’
