Chained in Time

by David Waine

CHAPTER 22

  Ambulances took them all to hospital as forensic teams moved into the steaming, smoking ruins of the Kelly house, and their next door neighbour's, once the blaze was doused, to begin the lengthy process of sifting through whatever was left. The house, itself, was damaged beyond repair, both by the fire bomb and the collapsing tree.

  “I'll be glad to see the back of it,” remarked a surprisingly jaunty Mr. Kelly as he waited in turn to be checked over by the doctor. “After the way Sid upped sticks and effectively opened the door for that animal, I'm not so inclined to live next door to him any more.” He did not mention it, but he was also unimpressed by the cowardly attitudes of many of their neighbours who would have left Marie to her fate rather than lift a finger to help. “I want to live in a place where people care about other people, instead of just themselves,” he remarked, “and the insurance money should help us buy one.”

  “Sid won't be living there either,” pointed out Mr. Burnett. “If your house comes down, so does his. It looks ready to fall down as it is. Don't suppose you know where he went?”

  Mr. Kelly shrugged. “Somewhere in Wales apparently. No idea where.”

  Mr. Burnett burst out laughing. “Well, he's in for a shock when he gets back.”

  “Serves him right,” said Mr. Kelly with a chuckle. “Well, I suppose I'll have my lawn mower back, assuming it survived. Just need a new lawn to mow now.”

  “At least we'll be going back,” added a downcast Mrs. Kelly. She was not thinking particularly of her lost possessions, the most precious of which, Marie, she had retained, but of PC Dawson, who had given his all to protect them and who would never return to his family again. The Ripper had, indeed claimed his fifth victim that night. He had been right by the front door, checking for sounds, when the fire bomb was detonated. After being cleared by the doctors, it had been Abberline's painful duty to inform Dawson's devastated widow and teenage daughters of their loss. The jollity of both men was sobered in an instant.

  A large television set on the wall of the waiting room was displaying a late news item. An emotional-looking Sally stood before the burning remains of their home. They could not hear what she was saying, but all took in the recorded footage of the house going up in flames and people running.

  It was past three in the morning when they returned to their street to find what was left of their house floodlit and crawling with scientific types in protective clothing. Groups of neighbours still stood about in their dressing gowns despite the cold. All averted their eyes when the cars drew up and the occupants ignored them completely. “Ghouls,” muttered Mrs. Kelly under her breath. “They weren't so keen to show their faces when we were waiting for the worst to happen.”

  The Burnetts, devoted friends that they were, took them in without question, Joe unconsciously imitating the action of his near namesake of a century earlier by giving up his bed to Marie while he slept on the sofa. The entire family insisted that the Kellys should remain there until they could find a new house. With the three of them, plus Joe, due to fly off to Spain for a couple of weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Burnett promised to do a bit of house hunting for them and draw up a short-list of properties to consider on their return. They would also make use of the same list themselves, for they were not impressed with their neighbours' showing either and would rather move to be close to their real friends, the Kellys.

  None of them got more than an hour or two of sleep that night, especially Marie. She had been through too much over the past weeks to suddenly revert to the carefree girl that she had once been. She slept fitfully and woke up frequently. When she did finally succumb, though, she slept freely, undisturbed by stalking horrors, her face clear and peaceful at last. Rutter came in and stayed with her — she had yet to be stood down from duty — sitting by the window watching what she could see of the remaining operation outside while Marie thrashed about. Turning her head to look at the figure in the bed, she smiled softly. Marie Kelly had not simply been her charge during the crisis, but she had also become her friend. There was a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. She did not sleep at all that night, but nor did she care. She would be formally stood down in the morning, and promptly sent on leave to recover. She was content. For the first time in her life she had been called on to employ her firearms training in a real situation, and she had done so. More important — immeasurably more important — she had played a part in saving the life of an innocent young girl. Nothing more need be said.

  It was a haggard, red-eyed company that met around the breakfast table in the Burnett's kitchen the following morning, exhausted but glad. A strange calm seemed to have settled on the street since the tumultuous events of the night before and they knew that there would be many questions to answer before the day was out. The news was on the television again. There was Sally, keeping her promise that Marie would be the lead item. There was the shocking image of her house going up in flames, followed by more comforting ones of herself and Joe being helped into the waiting ambulance.

  The neighbours, possibly sensible of the rather ignoble role they had played in the affair, stayed away, although nothing could stop the media vans from circling like vultures and the crowds of photographers and reporters from massing to launch themselves on whoever emerged. Sally had promised to keep the worst of them at bay, and proved it by going out and telling them that nobody would be giving any interviews or posing for pictures today. “Not even for me,” she added with a smile.

  Marie had been used to a cold breakfast of a bowl of cereal from long habit, but even that had gone by the board in recent days as her appetite deserted her altogether. She had demonstrated a vague inclination to turn vegetarian prior to her personal crisis. Now, however, the smell of grilling bacon and frying eggs was overwhelming. For the first time in as long as she could recall, she was desperately hungry and devoured a whole plateful ravenously, only apologising for her lack of decorum when it dawned on her afterwards. A beaming Mrs. Burnett happily served up a second helping forthwith and pushed a brand new bottle of ketchup across the table towards her.