Page 4 of Summer at Harbour View House
‘Well, it must be expensive.’
‘He has rich parents.’
‘That’s lucky. Another reason to marry him, isn’t it?’
Hannah’s titter was like that of an innocent little bird, and Natasha couldn’t help but wish she was a cat. Instead, she downed what was left of her vodka and slammed the glass against the hard tabletop.
‘Another? One for the road.’
‘I haven’t started my second one yet. Are you sure you don’t drink too much?’
2
An Unexpected Event and a Surprise Visitor
The hangover was sobad that she would have called in sick if it weren’t for a stubborn refusal to give Tina Jones the satisfaction. Instead, she crawled into work with a plan to play DVDs in all her classes while sitting at the back of a dark classroom with a towel over her head. Unfortunately, she remembered that a fire drill had been scheduled for midmorning, requiring her to act sharp and dedicated in helping her pupils survive, while all the while wishing that Mrs. Williams and her heaters lived in the basement below the school rather than her own flat.
She was standing at the front of her class line in the playground, sweltering in a July heatwave, when the headmaster called her name.
‘Miss Bright, would you come here a moment?’
As she sidled over, the headmaster turned to the pupils lined up like fresh military recruits on their first parade, and lifted the megaphone to his lips.
‘You may or may not be aware—depending on how much time you spend in the real world compared to the virtual one—that two nights ago there was a fire on Campbell Street. A terraced house caught fire, and six flats were damaged. Luckily no one was hurt. Miss Bright here lived on the second floor and had a very lucky escape. Just so you understand the gravity of the situation, I’d like her to tell you about her experience.’
The whispers were in full flow before Natasha made it to where the headmaster was standing. Even as teachers tried in vain to stamp them out like players in a giant Hit-the-Frog game, she caught several:
‘I bet she was smoking puff.’
‘Not so bright now.’
‘Boiling a bunny and left the stove on.’
‘Banging her boyfriend and he dropped a cig.’
‘I bet she started that fire in the community centre last year.’
‘Always had her down as a pyro.’
She tapped the megaphone because that’s what she thought she was supposed to do, then lifted it to her mouth and sighed a little more dramatically than she had intended, a huge, depressing drone that bled out of the speaker like a poisoned gas.
‘Mr. Andrews is right,’ she said, looking around the assembled pupils, about half of whom were listening while the other half looked like they’d rather be somewhere else. ‘There was a fire in the flat below mine, and by the time it was discovered, it was too late. I was in the shower at the time, and had to escape in my dressing gown.’
‘Told you she was banging her boyfriend.’
‘I bet she was drinking.’
‘Browsing retired guys on Tinder.’
Natasha gave a loud cough into the megaphone which resulted in a jarring, discordant crackle. It did nothing to stop the mutterings from further back, but at least the kids near the front looked suitably discomforted enough to make her feel better.
‘I thought it was a drill, otherwise I would have grabbed my—’
Lifting a hand, Mr. Andrews quickly said, ‘But you followed correct procedure, didn’t you? You left everything behind, and walked but didn’t run—’
‘I was in my slippers—’
‘And you didn’t talk or panic—’
