As soon as we’d located the electricity circuit board, Charlie had set about fitting a timer to the switch that controlled all the house lights, so at 7.45 p.m. the house would be plunged into complete darkness. We figured this was when most of the guests would be arriving for the party. Our hope was that it would cause as little disruption as possible, but would have the desired effect of forcing the cancellation of the party.
Everything had gone swimmingly until, on our way out, one of the caterers had mistaken us for staff and asked us to carry some trays of food from his van down to the kitchen. So we’d done as he asked, desperately hoping no one would notice us. Luckily everyone was so busy they hadn’t noticed a couple of extra helpers, so we’d delivered our trays and managed to sneak away immediately afterwards, once again following the shortcut that led through the woods and back out on to the beach. Then we’d run along the sand together, laughing and smiling like we had as children.
‘Do I want people to know we broke into someone’s house and messed with their electrics?’ Charlie whispers now as he gazes furtively around the pub. ‘No, I don’t thank you very much. All I want to know is why we did it!’
He wasn’t going to let it go, and probably quite rightly so. If it had been the other way around, and Charlie had asked me to do something but wouldn’t tell me why, I’d have gone on and on until he told me.
‘I have a hunch something bad is going to happen there tonight,’ I reply as honestly as I can.
‘A hunch!’
I hush Charlie again.
‘Yes, I get them sometimes. Sort of like a premonition.’
‘What?’
‘A premonition. It’s like when —’
‘Yes, I know what it is. But when did you start getting them?
‘A few years ago,’ I reply truthfully. ‘It comes and goes but…’ I hesitate, ‘it’s usually right in the end.’
Charlie thinks about this. ‘You’re not winding me up, are you?’
I shake my head.
‘You really think something bad is going to happen at Sandybridge Hall tonight?’
I nod. ‘I don’t know what specifically. I just think people will be in danger.’
‘Hey up, drinking buds!’ Danny says, leaning over our hunched shoulders. ‘How’s it hanging?’ He lifts my glass and sniffs it, then he takes a sip. He pulls a face. Then he does the same to Charlie’s Coke. ‘And why, pray tell, are you two not drinking? It’s New Year’s Eve!’
‘We’re waiting for you, of course!’ I say, springing to my feet. ‘My round, what ya having, Danny?’
I get the drinks in, and when I return to our table, I find Charlie and Danny in deep discussion about something.
Pleased to see them getting on at last, I linger a few steps away from the table to enjoy the moment.
‘Hurry up, Gracie!’ Danny glances over and sees me dithering with his drink. ‘I’ve got some catching up to do!’
‘Danny was just telling me about the party up at Sandybridge Hall,’ Charlie says quite deliberately as I arrive at the table. As Danny turns to take his drink from me, Charlie raises his eyebrows at me behind Danny’s back. ‘How he’s glad we didn’t go now.’
‘Oh, why’s that?’ I ask, putting the other two drinks on the table and sitting down again.
‘Sounds like it’s only for the elderly and ancient,’ Danny says, rolling his eyes. He takes a sip from his pint of lager. ‘I thought it was going to be some fantastic rave, with bands and stuff, but it turns out it’s a formal dinner-dance bore.’
‘Tell Gracie how you know this,’ Charlie says, leading him.
‘My parents have gone to it.’ Danny pulls a face. ‘Can you imagine how humiliating it would have been, being there with them strutting their stuff on the dance floor!’
This is not what I want to hear. I know Danny’s parents well, from when we’d dated. They’re a lovely couple and couldn’t do enough for me when I was Danny’s girlfriend.
I look at Charlie. He shrugs.
‘I did hear the party was almost cancelled,’ Danny says, taking another slug of his beer.
‘Why?’ I ask, meeting Charlie’s eyes again.
‘Apparently someone had been messing with the electrics at the hall, nearly started a fire. If it hadn’t been for some lighting guy they’d hired, who was checking out the circuits or something to see if the old place could provide the power he required, the whole hall could have gone up in flames.’
I swallow hard. That was us. We’d caused that. By trying to prevent something happening, we could have caused a disaster. It was happening again; that blasted typewriter, why couldn’t it get it right!
‘So the party’s gone ahead as planned?’ I ask as evenly as I can.
I glance at Charlie, he doesn’t look happy.
Danny nods. ‘Spose so. Why wouldn’t it? At least I know my parents aren’t going to turn up in here tonight and embarrass me, so that’s something.’
‘Danny, do you believe in intuition?’ I suddenly ask.
‘What?’
‘Intuition, like a hunch, your gut instinct, that kind of thing.’
‘Do you mean like premonitions? I’ve been reading this really cool book about how the ancient tribes used to rely on wise men to predict what was going to happen to them – you know, when they should go into battle, when they should move their herds, when —’
‘Yes, exactly like that,’ I say, interrupting him. ‘The thing is, I’ve had one.’
Danny looks at me. ‘You’re having me on, right?’
I shake my head. ‘No, I’ve had a premonition that something bad will happen at Sandybridge Hall tonight.’
‘What sort of something?’
‘That’s just it, I don’t know. But I know people are going to get hurt.’
Danny stares at me. Then he grins. ‘Ah, nice one, you two!’ He looks at Charlie now too. ‘You really had me going there for a moment.’ Still grinning, he lifts his pint glass and begins drinking from it.
‘No, I’m deadly serious. Look.’ I rummage in my bag and pull my parents’ party tickets from the bottom of it. ‘If I wasn’t sure something was going to happen, why would I have stolen these from my mum and dad?’
Danny takes the tickets from me and examines them.
‘I didn’t want them to go to the party, Danny, any more than I wouldn’t want your parents being there either. It was Charlie and I that messed with the electrics at the hall. We were trying to prevent the party going ahead.’ I take the tickets back from Danny. ‘I’m sure something is going to happen up there tonight, Danny, and we need to get everyone out of the hall before it does; including your mum and dad. We don’t know how though. We tried our only idea earlier, and that’s failed.’
Danny, his mind obviously working overtime, looks between Charlie and me. Eventually he nods slowly. ‘You two may not know how to evacuate a large building. But I know just the thing.’
Nineteen
‘Are you sure about this, Danny?’ Charlie asks as we all crouch down behind a bush in the Sandybridge Hall gardens. ‘It seems a bit dangerous.’
‘Not at all, mate. The smoke is fairly harmless, and people aren’t going to hang around breathing it in once the room is filled with it, are they? They’ll head for those great glass doors. It’ll be fine.’
‘I’m still not sure…’ Charlie says, sounding worried. ‘Throwing flares into a room filled with people seems like a recipe for disaster to me.’
After Danny had told us his idea, we’d all left the pub and headed for the sailing equipment shop that Danny’s dad ran. Charlie and I had waited outside while Danny ran to his house to fetch a key for the shop, then we watched while Danny unlocked the door and disabled the intruder alarm. We’d all crept inside, and Danny had quickly found what he was looking for – marine smoke flares of the sort carried in boats’ emergency kits for use in a crisis.
Now we were hiding in the gardens at Sandybridge Hall like criminals, trying to work out
how to get into the house to throw the smoke-filled canisters into the party, so the house would evacuate.
‘Not as much of a disaster as will befall them if they don’t leave,’ I point out.
‘You don’t know that for sure, Grace,’ Charlie maintains. ‘This is all in your mind at the moment.’
‘It’s not in my mind!’ I cry, then I slap my hand over my mouth when the other two glare at me. ‘I have proof,’ I whisper.
‘What proof?’ Charlie asks suspiciously.
The last letter from Remy was not where I usually kept his notes, safely locked up in my chest of drawers. This time I’d folded it carefully and put it in the side pocket of my bag. I didn’t know why; maybe I suspected I’d need it as evidence tonight.
As I hesitate with my hand over my bag, wondering whether I should tell Charlie and Danny about Remy, I hear it.
We all hear it.
A noise that sounds like a hundred cannons going off at once. A boom so loud we automatically cover our ears. Then we slowly release them to allow ourselves the opportunity to look around the bush to see what’s happened.
In front of us is Sandybridge Hall, but instead of seeing people enjoying themselves chatting, laughing and dancing through the windows of the ballroom, all we now see are dancing flames. The cosy glow of the yellow-red brickwork has become even warmer, as those same flames flicker ominously through the broken glass of the windows.
I look with horror at Charlie, who looks as terrified as I feel.
‘Run down to the phone box and dial 999, Grace,’ he instructs.
‘Who shall I ask for?’ I stupidly ask.
‘Everyone,’ is Charlie’s chilly reply. ‘We’ll need everyone.’
As I stand up and stumble around the front of the bush, I see a few people beginning to stagger through the shattered French windows, looking for a way across the moat to safety. Up until a few moments ago the windows had protected the partygoers from the chilly December evening, but now, all that’s left are the shards of glass that lie at the bottom of the moat and strewn all over the grass.
The people fleeing from the building have grey, terror-filled faces, and most of them are either covered in blood, more shards of glass, or both as they emerge stunned from the ballroom and make for the narrow bridge at the back of the house.
‘Go, Grace!’ Charlie shouts, seeing me frozen to the spot. ‘Run as fast as you can.’
I look at Danny, who is silently staring at the unfolding drama in front of us.
‘I’ll take care of Danny,’ Charlie says, waving me on. ‘You have to go!’
Without another backward glance at the house I run as fast as I can down the drive of Sandybridge Hall. As I race for the gate, the thought occurs to me that I’ve never actually used the correct entrance and exit before, only the shortcut that Charlie and I knew. I pray that the big black iron gates at the end of the drive will be open when I get there; I don’t think I’d be able to clamber over the top of them in daylight, let alone in the dark. But as I approach the gates, I notice a light coming from the gatekeeper’s lodge at the entrance.
I don’t stop to think, there’s no time. I simply pound as hard as I can on the door, then when no one appears, I start banging equally hard on the window.
I’m turning away in search of the nearest phone box when I hear an old man’s voice coming from the doorway.
‘What is it, love?’ he asks.
‘There’s… been… an explosion… up at the hall.’ I’m so out of breath it’s all I can do to get the words out. ‘We need… ambulances… fire brigade – everyone!’
The old man, who’s wearing a long nightshirt and a nightcap, looks like Wee Willy Winkie from the nursery rhyme. He stares at me for a moment, probably wondering whether I’m high or drunk. Deciding I’m neither, he steps out of his house, on to the drive, and looks up towards the hall. Already I can see flickering flames in some of the upstairs windows, and a nasty grey plume of smoke beginning to cover the previously moonlit sky.
‘Right, dear,’ he says smartly, pulling his nightcap off. ‘Leave it with me.’
He hobbles back inside his house as fast as he can with his stick, and I follow him to make sure.
‘I need the fire brigade, and some ambulances, and probably the police too…’ the old man says into his telephone as I stand there watching helplessly. ‘Yes, that’s right… There’s been some sort of explosion up at Sandybridge Hall. I suspect gas. There may be a lot of casualties, there was a party on up there tonight, see.’
The man finishes his phone call and turns to me. ‘I don’t know what use they’ll be, but there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom, and some blankets in the cupboard in the hall. You’ll get up there much faster than I can if you take them, dear.’
I run and fetch what he says, then with the man waving his stick at me in encouragement from the lodge, I carry them as fast as I can up to the hall.
What I find as I reach the house resembles a scene from a disaster movie. People lying on the grass covered with gashes and wounds, while other less injured people, some still covered in glass, are trying to help them.
I look around for Charlie and Danny, but I can’t see them anywhere. So I begin handing out the blankets to those in shock. I end up giving my first aid kit to my old maths teacher, Mr Johnson, who seems to have survived the blast quite well. He glances at me briefly in recognition before he moves to help someone less fortunate than himself.
Then at last I see Charlie. I barely recognise him, his face is so blackened by the smoke. The white shirt that he’d looked so smart in earlier this evening is ripped, and I can see the muscles of his torso tighten and relax as he half carries, half drags a man from the house. The man is hanging off Charlie’s shoulder, and they both limp along to where Charlie places him safely down on the grass. Then without a break he wipes his forehead and stumbles back towards the house.
‘Charlie!’ I call. ‘Charlie, wait!’
Charlie turns and sees me running towards him.
‘Did you call 999?’ he asks desperately, his blackened hands gripping my upper arms.
‘Yes… well, I didn’t but… oh that doesn’t matter – they’re on their way, that’s all that counts.’
Charlie nods. ‘Good.’ Then he turns and starts to head towards the hall again, but I grab his arm.
‘Wait, you can’t go in there!’
‘Already have – several times. There’s still people in there, Grace. Trapped by the burnt beams that have fallen. I have to go.’
‘No! Not if you’re putting yourself at risk you don’t.’
‘Have you seen Danny?’ Charlie asks, looking around at the carnage.
‘No. Why, is he doing the same as you?’
Charlie sighs and rubs his eyes where the smoke is getting to them. ‘He ran into the house shortly after you left when he realised his parents were still in there. Haven’t seen him since.’
‘But I’ve seen Kathleen and Lionel, they’re sitting over there by the tree. I gave them a blanket.’
Charlie looks towards the house again. The flames look even bigger and more aggressive now.
‘You don’t think…’ I gasp. ‘Oh God, he’s not still in there, is he?’
We both look towards the burning building. I grab Charlie’s arm as he tries to leave again. ‘Charlie, no! You’ll die if you go in there.’
‘But what about the people still trapped?’ he cries, staring wildly at me through blackened eyes. ‘What about Danny?’
I’ve never been so relieved to hear the sirens of the emergency services as I am at this moment. We turn to see the flashing lights of their vehicles tearing up the drive of Sandybridge Hall. ‘Let the experts deal with it now, Charlie. You’ve done your bit.’
But as I stare up at the flame-filled house, I know Charlie is wondering exactly the same thing as me:
Where is Danny?
Dear Grace
Things aren’t always what they seem.
I know you think you failed in stopping the tragedy in Sandybridge, but you didn’t. In fact you did just as I asked: you prevented more people from being hurt than needed to be.
Yes, your friend was injured, and I know once again you are blaming yourself for that. But please remember, Grace, life isn’t always as clear-cut as it seems. Sometimes good comes from bad.
I know it will be a while before we speak again. But I’m always here if you need me.
Love, Me x
Summer 2016
I leave the station, after a kind man has helped me lift my package safely into the boot of my car, and I drive slowly towards Sandybridge High Street. Lobster Pot Alley, where our shop is situated, has been pedestrianised, so these days you can’t easily park outside the door the way my parents used to in their van. I pull up as close as I can in the Range Rover, then I set off on foot, weaving as fast as I can through the throng of holidaymakers meandering about in the sunshine, to where I know Olivia and Josh will be waiting for me.
As I walk the short distance to the shop, I pass by several other shops and businesses, some of which have been in Sandybridge almost as long as we have. We’ve been luckier than many small towns: Sandybridge shopkeepers seem to have survived the credit crunch and the recession, and are still trading happily and profitably alongside the bigger chains that have now joined them.
‘Afternoon, Grace,’ several people call from their open shop doorways as I pass by. ‘Lovely day!’
‘Good afternoon,’ I call back. But I’m not so sure it is a lovely day or a good afternoon. I know what’s coming later.
As I’d hoped, Olivia and Josh are there to greet me at the antiques shop.
‘Hello, Grace,’ Olivia says. ‘Thank you so much for doing this, I couldn’t bear to risk leaving it at the station. We did that once before with a vase, and it ended up in pieces.’
Letters from Lighthouse Cottage Page 14