Caim

by T. S. Simons

  Flinging open the bedroom door, we were struck full in the face by billowing black smoke, choking and blinding us temporarily and the roar of flames. Cam grabbed two heavy wool blankets from the bed, threw one over me and another draped over himself as he called for the children. Xanthe's shrill screams cut through the still night air, trapped in her room. We felt our way through the blinding, acrid smoke and opened her door. As the faint light filtered through her window, I could just make out her silhouette, sitting on her bed, arms around her knees, screaming hysterically.

  Cam bellowed at me over the roaring of the flames. 'Get out!' I watched him scoop her up, and she clung to him, petrified.

  I started for the door but turned back to bang on Louis' door. Since she had arrived, Ceri had only been able to sleep in Louis' room. We had put two single beds in there, but knew it was temporary. Coming from a dormitory, she preferred not to sleep alone, telling us she had been scared for the months she had slept alone living with Angus. Baby steps, Illy had suggested. Slow and steady.

  'Louis! Go out the window!' I screamed between coughs, the ash burning my gullet. 'Smash it, get out now!'

  I heard the thumping on the wooden floor and a few bangs.

  'I can't!' he called, panicked.

  'Get a boot. A chair. Something heavy. Throw it through!' I spluttered. 'Use a blanket to protect yourself as you climb through. Look after Ceri. Stay safe!'

  A few seconds later and I heard the shattering of glass. Katrin appeared at my side, clutching my hand, as I fought to see through the haze. Coughing and choking, I dragged Kat out the kitchen door into the night, and we gasped for breath as the night sky was illuminated with the glowing orange of our home. My lungs singed from the acrid smoke. Kat doubled over, choking. Louis and Ceri appeared beside me in the dark, looking petrified.

  'Are you okay?' I croaked, and I checked them both over, my throat burning from the ashes.

  They nodded, and I pushed them away.

  'Go around the other side of the greenhouse,' I urged. 'Stay out of the smoke. Take Kat. Help her. She has inhaled a lot of smoke.'

  Watching the three of them dart around the greenhouse, I saw Sorcha and Di, Illy, Jamie and Jacinda appear from their homes, horror on their faces illuminated by the glow of our home. Their children behind them, baby Alasdair screeching in Illy's arms. Our houses were so close. If our roof caught fire, there was a good chance it would ignite Illy's even though there was no wind here. I felt the movement of the air from the turbines in the distance.

  'Please don't be blowing this way,' I prayed.

  'Come on!' Sorcha yelled and started filling buckets, pots, and anything they could with water from the tap outside the shed, tackling the base of the fire but making little impact. As I grabbed a bucket, I saw Jamie disappear into the greenhouse, making me cross. Couldn't he help? Were his precious plants more important? It isn't like the local fire brigade were on their way. We had no way of controlling this if it reached the roof. The roof frame would burn, and the entire building collapse. Between bucket loads, I bellowed for Cam as the grey-black smoke billowed out, making me cough. Soon there would be nothing of our home left.

  Cam's silhouette appeared in the doorway, staggering with a child in each arm. I rushed forward and took them from him as he doubled over, coughing like he would die.

  Jamie appeared with the greenhouse hose and rushed into the house, the hose spraying everywhere. Years ago, Cam had hooked up a hose from the nearby loch to his beloved greenhouse to supplement the watering system. I issued a mental apology to Jamie as I watched him tackle the heart of the blaze as the rest put out spot fires with buckets.

  When dawn arrived, we surveyed the damage. Half our home gutted. Our children sat on the small rock retaining wall near the greenhouse, tears streaking their soot smeared faces. I turned to Cam to say something but noticed him looking at his feet.

  'Your feet are charred!' I exclaimed, attracting Sorcha's attention. 'You have burns up your legs and arms!'

  'I'm okay. I can't feel them.'

  'Fuck. That is bad, Campbell. Full-thickness burns kill the nerves and will need grafting. Come with me. Now!'

  I watched as Cam trailed behind her, the blanket still wrapped around him. For the first time in my life, I wished we both slept in full pyjamas. At least we may have something left, I thought as I looked down at the long t-shirt I wore, pulling it self-consciously past my hips. A cry from Xanthe pulled my attention away from my state of undress.

  'It's okay,' I soothed. 'It is only things. You are all alive. Everything else can be replaced,' I choked, remembering the items, the photos we could never replace.

  Illy's spare arm slipped around me as emotion took hold, calming me. Not since I had left Melbourne had I held such attachment for a place, for possessions. Suddenly it was all too much. 'We've lost everything!' I sobbed. 'And it's Christmas!'

  'No, you have lost nothing,' she soothed. 'Everyone you care about is fine.'

  'Cam's photos of Laetitia, of his family. My family. They are all gone,' I cried, feeling foolish. After all, she had lost her husband. Here I was, crying over objects. Cam's burns may be severe, but he would live.

  Illy stiffened, and I pulled back to look at her. But she wasn't watching me. She was watching Ceridwen, sitting stony-faced on the wall.

  'Is there something you would like to tell us?' Illy asked firmly.

  Ceri looked away.

  'Ceridwen!' Illy barked, and we all jumped. 'Why did you do this?'

  'I… I don't know…' the tiny voice, barely above a squeak, came from the angelic-looking child with the soot smeared face.

  Louis rounded on her. 'You did this? To my home? To my family? You burned down our home! You nearly killed us! Do you not know how dangerous it is to light fires under the dome?'

  Ceridwen shrugged and looked away.

  'They are not my family,' she mumbled.

  Louis' face broke, shooting pain into my heart. He felt responsible for her, I knew. He had asked her to come here, be his sister. He turned away, unable to look at her. Illy purposefully handed me the sleeping bundle, and firmly gripping her shoulder, marched Ceridwen off to her house as the other children fired off angry questions.

  Leaving Di with the children, I followed Cam into the vet shed and, waiting until Sorcha went to collect medical supplies, told him what Illy suspected.

  'What are we going to do?' I asked over the sleeping baby in my arms.

  'Oh honey, only you can answer that. She is your family. Do we ask her if she wants to live with Jorja and the other girls?'

  'I don't think Jorja would trust her after she broke Ruby's arm last week, then lied about it. Sorcha and I needed to pin the bone; the break was so nasty. That has put an end to that relationship for a little while. Bridget was seething when she brought Ceri back. I've never seen her so angry.'

  Silence rose between us as he sat on the stainless table wrapped in the singed blanket.

  'What do we do? She tried to kill us, Frey. All of us. I get that she is traumatised. Had a difficult life before she came here. I am prepared to forgive most things. But in the months she has been here, she has hurt children, lied and stolen. Now we find out she is homicidal? I can't let her put our children in danger. She could have killed them. Us too. If Xanthe hadn't woken us when she did…'

  'I know. I'll speak with Illy.'

  Leaving Cam and avoiding the children who were fossicking through the charred remains, I carried baby Alasdair home.

  'Where is she?'

  'I sent her to clean out the chook pen.'

  I smiled through the exhaustion and distress. Illy firmly believed in children doing chores in consequence for poor behaviour choices.

  'Why did she do it?

  'She can't explain it. She has no words to describe this complicated cocktail of emotions raging through her. Honestly, I suspect it is several things. Wanting to destroy what belongs to others. Confusion ab
out this new life, one that encourages what she sees as idleness and imperfection. A fascination with fire. Resentment that she is now part of a family, one among a group. She doesn't feel special. And jealousy, an incredible amount of jealousy, particularly towards your girls. She knows they are yours, and she isn't.'

  'How did she even do it? We have no matches here.'

  'She read in a book about starting a fire with flint. She found some and practised. Then she waited until you were all asleep and set fire to the gifts under the tree.'

  'The tree? That is what she set fire to?'

  'The gifts specifically. If you think about it, they are the symbol of her not belonging.'

  'But there were gifts there for her!'

  'I know, but she sees Christmas as a lie. The songs, the stories. "They are all lies", she kept telling me. She saw all the gifts, and two were for her. She is used to being treated as an individual, not one of a group. She doesn't see herself as an equal. She is a challenging child,' Illy admitted. 'I'm no paediatric specialist, but she is likely permanently affected by the lack of love she was shown for the first years of her life. There are studies of children in orphanages who fail to thrive because of a lack of physical contact. I am not saying she is evil, but she has no compassion. She doesn't know how to be part of a family. She can't see what she did was malicious and dangerous. I'm sorry to say Freyja, but I think the best option is to ask her if she wants to go back to Clava. It is all she knows. Likely she will be happier there.'

  'But she is my niece. She is Kat's baby.'

  'I know that. But she nearly killed you and your family. Can you really ever trust her again? Had the fire taken hold, she could have killed my children, Frey. Can you forgive that? Because I can't. After everything I have lost, I can't lose them too.'

  Silently I wandered outside to find Cam, his arms and feet wrapped in bandages, poking around the rubble to see what was left of our life.

  'I wish Laetitia were here,' I mused aloud, making Cam's eyes pop. 'Well, you said she was a paediatric psychologist.'

  'She was training to be.'

  'Would she know what to do with Ceridwen?'

  'Possibly. She did volunteer work with challenging children. But you don't think that would be a tough situation? "Hi honey, here is my first wife. Her niece is displaying some challenging behaviours. What do you recommend we do?'

  'Perhaps a little awkward.'

  'She would have helped, though. What did Illy say?'

  'Illy readily admits that she is no paediatric expert, but her professional and personal opinion is that we send Ceri back to Clava. She is likely to get the support she needs, and it is a lifestyle she is used to. Being here is stressful for her too.'

  Seeing Thorsten crying, I rushed to comfort him. 'It's alright,' I soothed. 'We are all alive. We have each other. We can build a new house.'

  'But it's Christmas!' he howled. 'Everything is gone.'

  'Not everything.' Kat smiled at him. 'Look over here. Most of your toys are okay. We need to wash them and fix a couple, but most are okay.'

  I looked where she stood. She was right. The heart of our home, the living room and kitchen were burned beyond recognition. But being a converted barn, the walls were solid and still stood, blackened. The bedrooms were newer and further away, and although parts were a little charred, wet, and smoky, most things would be salvageable. Tears filled my eyes as I watched Cam pull the wooden boxes and bags, slightly damp, from under our bed. Our photos. The one thing we had that we couldn't replace.

  'Mummy, I don't want to be a fireman anymore!' Thorsten wailed.

  'Duly noted,' said Cam seriously.

  By mid-morning, all of our friends had visited after learning what had befallen us. There had never been a fire on Lewis, and many people expressed concern about the long-term impact on the dome's fabric. Everyone brought food, but many brought empty boxes and bags to package up what could be salvaged. Isla oversaw the removal of the equipment from the vet shed and taken up to the other clinic in town. What furniture could be saved was aired, cleaned, and moved into the shed. 'You can live there until they build you a new house,' she announced. 'Mitchell has already rallied the crews. They start next week.'

  'Thank you.' I threw my arms around her, and she froze, not used to me showing affection. But her arms came around me and squeezed me tight.

  'We'd have you with us, but this might take a few months. I'd likely kill ye.'

  Cam and I hadn't had time to talk about what we would do while we rebuilt, but we couldn't cram our family of six, seven if you counted Ceri, into anyone else's home. Homes here were deliberately small—partly as they were easier to heat and clean, but mostly as no one needed a large home. Knowing that a new house would be built soon, not waiting for spring, was an enormous relief. We could survive almost anything for the short term, even living in the vet shed. One solid wall was constructed of mud-brick, but the remaining walls were metal with no insulation to keep us warm.

  'Xan, how did you even know?' I asked her gently as we sifted through the charred remains of the kitchen, placing salvageable items in a box.

  She looked at me guiltily. Katrin could lie bald-faced, but Xanthe hadn't yet mastered the art.

  'What?' I ordered.

  Xanthe looked down at her soot-covered feet, and tears started to fall. 'I was bringing Lambie inside,' she whispered, waiting for the lecture about how animals don't sleep in bedrooms, especially now that Lambie was a full-sized sheep. 'It was cold, and it is Christmas, and…'

  'It's okay,' I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. 'That sheep of yours may have saved all of our lives. That doesn't mean she can live with us in the shed, though,' I warned. 'It will be hard enough with all of us in there, without a sheep as well.'

  'Mum, Jam got out when I went looking for Lambie. I looked and looked, and I can't find her anywhere. I'm so sorry!'

  'That's okay, sweetheart. You likely saved her life too.' Now that Jam was old, she enjoyed living inside more but occasionally liked an overnight stroll. I hadn't thought about her during the fire or aftermath. But she would turn up when she was ready.

  By midday, we had moved our undamaged belongings into the shed, partitioning off a sleeping area and a small section for cooking. Bodhi had brought us a new biogas cooker, and Sorcha and Di had spent the afternoon moving our old algal tanks that had survived the blaze. Jam, much to everyone's relief, came strolling out of the woods like nothing had happened, demanding food.

  'I'm so sorry for ruining your Christmas,' I kept telling people, genuinely remorseful. This was one day people spent with their families. Celebrating. Instead, they were all here helping us.

  Finally, Sorcha stopped dead in her tracks and barked at me. 'Will you just stop it! You would help anyone else in the same situation, and you know it. Besides, what did you do to be sorry for? Nearly dying? It is that little bitch who needs to apologise.'

  Di glared at her warningly, and Sorcha scowled and returned to her work, hooking up the biogas to the bioreactor.

  'I think Illy is right,' Cam admitted as we ambled through the forest later that evening, seeking solitude from the craziness of the day. Cam's feet had been singed but not severely burned. Illy had donated a pair of Luca's boots, which several sizes too big, fit over all the bandaging. Even the injuries to his arms were superficial. If kept clean, there was little risk of permanent damage. Running on adrenaline the likely reason for not noticing the pain sooner.

  'I don't think I can sleep with her in the house. She nearly killed our children, Frey. We can't turn her back on her. Besides, they know what she did. They won't forgive her in a hurry. If ever.'

  'Let me see if there is somewhere she can stay. Let's see Bridget. Get her to radio Clava. Can you walk that far?'

  'Tell me about her.'

  Ashton flinched slightly at the brusqueness of my tone. I was in no mood for small talk. Bridget had been sent to greet him as he a
rrived at Stornoway Harbour, a place I rarely visited with flashbacks of Luca and Cam still tormenting me. I hadn't seen Ashton since he had released us, and I was surprised at how much seeing him made my skin crawl.

  Bridget had brought him to Sorcha's home as a neutral space. Sitting in what was previously Illy and Luca's home, on Sorcha's lounge, made me feel sick, fighting the flashbacks that threatened to overwhelm me. As Ashton settled and Di served him tea, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Shuffling and mumbling filled the space as we braced ourselves, fearful of what we might learn.

  'The child…' Ashton quickly corrected himself as he saw the colour rise in my face, 'Ceridwen,' he said pointedly, 'was born to a surrogate and raised by the community on Clava.'

  'She was born on Clava?' I asked, surprised. That wasn't what Angus had told me.

  'No. She was born on Auckland. She was raised on Clava.'

  'Did my sister give birth to her?'

  Ashton paused, assessing the risk, but responded. 'She did.'

  'Were there others? Kat's children, I mean.'

  'Yes.'

  I sniffed, desperately wanting to know more, but knowing that he had spoken the truth. Right now, Ceri's welfare was the most crucial factor. Information about Katrin could wait.

  'When did she get taken to Clava?'

  'She was a few weeks old.'

  'You seriously put a baby through that!'

  'We have refined the process over the past few years. It is far smoother now.'

  'It would want to be. But why on earth would you do that to a baby?'

  'She was one of the first. The chosen ones. We had a clearly defined program for her.'