“Heavens, I shouldn’t be here,” Vanessa said, jumping to her feet. “I meant to be gone before he came back.”
“Calm down. It’s probably for the best,” Freda told her. “But he’s certainly home sooner than I expected.” Vanessa met him in the hall. Her heart contracted painfully. She thought how tired and strained he looked.
“Hello, Vanessa,” he said. “I thought that was your car outside.”
“I’m just going, actually,” she told him.
“You don’t have to on my account,” he said stiffly. “I shall probably go directly upstairs anyway.”
With difficulty Vanessa let hurt feelings bounce straight off her.
She reiterated her intention of leaving. “Won’t you—see me to my car, Ian?” she found herself saying. “There are one or two things I want to say to you.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “What sort of things?”
“Please, Ian.”
Freda looked from one to the other uncertainly. Then she said quickly, “I’ll put some coffee on, Ian, and make some sandwiches.”
She disappeared hurriedly into the kitchen. Silently Vanessa blessed her. She was determined now to use and to take advantage of every possible opportunity to fight for her love. She called goodnight to Freda, then moved toward the door. Ian had little option but to follow her. Outside, he opened her car door and held it open as if very anxious to be rid of her. But for the talk she had had with Freda, Vanessa’s pride would have prevailed and her courage wavered. Now, she smiled up at him.
“It’s nice to see you again. Ian. I’ve—missed you dropping in to see me and—sort of bullying me.”
He frowned and did not speak for a minute, then he said, “Are you trying to flirt with me, Vanessa?”
She met his gaze. The urge to put her arms around his neck was strong.
“No, Ian. I’m not,” she answered. “I’m serious. I’ve come to my senses at last.”
Taking a chance, she reached one hand up to his shoulder and raised her face to his.
His expression alerted. He gripped her arms fiercely. “Vanessa, what are you talking about? What are you trying to say?”
But suddenly the whole sky was lit with a red glow. Startled, they looked in the direction from which it came. Vanessa’s eyes dilated as a great tongue of flame seemed to rise from the trees.
“Ian—It’s Puck’s Hill! It’s on fire—and Nancy’s in there alone!”
CHAPTER NINE
Without thinking, Vanessa started running in the direction of the boundary fence; her one thought to free Nancy quickly.
“Vanessa—Vanessa, not that way!”
Ian caught her. He grasped hold of her and made her stop.
“Vanessa, it’s quicker by car, it really is. I’ll get to her. You go inside and call the fire department. They can’t have been sent for yet, or we’d have heard the siren.”
He gave her a push in the direction of the house, then ran toward his car. Distressed as she was, she realized the truth of what he had said. It quicker by car. As she rushed into the house, she heard Ian’s car start up with a roar.
“Freda—”
“What on earth—”
“Freda, quick, let me use the phone. Puck’s Hill is on fire!”
She dialled 999 and gave the address in a shaking voice, then clamped the receiver down again.
“Was that Ian’s car I heard going down the drive?” queried Freda.
Vanessa nodded and ran to the door. Freda followed her. Together they drove as quickly as possible to the house. As the car turned into the drive the fire siren wailed out on the night air like a monster suddenly released. The next moment the clang of the engine could be heard.
As soon as Vanessa was out of the car she rushed to the front door, but was driven back as the thick smoke billowed out.
Freda ran after her and took hold of her arm. “Vanessa, don’t go in. Ian must be there. He’ll get Nancy out.”
“But—but how?—Unless he got in at the back?”
She ran around to the back door, but that was locked. Through the window she could see fire licking up the legs of the tables and chairs. Vanessa picked up a brick to break open a window and get in that way, but Freda stopped her.
“If you introduce more air, you’ll make it worse. The only thing to do is wait for the fire department. They’ll know the right thing to do.”
As Freda spoke the urgent clanging became louder and louder. In a matter of minutes the fire engine rushed up the drive. But Vanessa’s fears were for Ian and Nancy. What was keeping them? Had they been overcome by the heat and smoke? Instinctively, she moved toward the house again, but Freda caught hold of her.
“Vanessa, you mustn’t. I know how you feel—Ian is my brother, but he’ll be all right, I—I’m sure.”
But Vanessa felt her panic rising. To go in after him and Nancy was an urge too strong to be fought down. She shook herself free of Freda’s restraining hand and rushed to the door. Again she was choked back by the volume of smoke and the fierce heat, but she braced herself and, head down, rushed blindly into the hall. Flames licked the stairs and banister. It would be impossible to get either up or down. Vanessa made an effort to call Ian’s name, but as she opened her mouth and inhaled, she was choked by the thick, billowing smoke. She coughed violently and tears streamed from her eyes. Her senses swam. A feeling of failure hit her forcibly. She made for the stairs again and tried to shout, Ian—Ian—
Now her tears were real and not simply caused by the smoke. She had failed. Ian was somewhere in the burning house, someone was holding her back, trying to stop her from reaching him.
“Ian—Ian—”
Then by some miracle she was in Ian’s arms. He was talking to her in a low, urgent, almost incoherent voice. She thought he called her “darling”, but couldn’t be sure. There was so much noise all around and other voices intruding. Cold night air struck her face. She opened her eyes to find Ian’s face within inches of her own.
“Vanessa! Vanessa, are you all right?” he queried anxiously.
She was so relieved to see him, she broke into a sob, repeating his name as she had in what she knew now was a dream of unconsciousness. Still in a half-dream, half-awake state her arms went around his neck.
“Ian! Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re safe!”
She sensed rather than felt him stiffen. Not until she felt her feet touch the ground did she realize that she had been held in his arms. Her brain rapidly clearing, she rubbed her eyes and looked about her.
“Nancy! Where’s Nancy? Is she all right?”
Ian took her arm. “Yes, she’s all right. Freda is with her in the station wagon. We escaped through a bedroom window in the time-honored fashion of knotting sheets together. I can understand your anxiety, but it was foolish of you to go inside. The best thing you can do now is to come back to our place; both you and Nancy, and stay the night. Freda will go with you. I’ll stay here until the fire’s out. The firemen will soon have it under control, I think. There’s damage, of course, particularly to the stairs and in the kitchen, but the place won’t be entirely burned out.”
He led her to the station wagon gently, but in a way which clearly expected no argument. Vanessa looked back at the house, reluctant to leave; Ian opened the door on the passenger side and pushed her firmly onto the seat, picking up her legs and planting them inside after her. Then he slammed the door. Nancy was on the rear seat. Freda was already at the wheel. Before Vanessa could begin to argue she had started the engine and was driving away.
Vanessa sighed, realizing the futility of protesting, and admitting to herself that Ian was right as usual.
“Don’t worry, Vanessa,’’ Freda said, guessing some of her thoughts. “Ian will see to everything. You can rely on him.’’
“Yes, I know.” Vanessa turned to Nancy and asked if she were all right. Mercifully, she was.
“It was just that I couldn’t get down the stairs,” she said. “I simply had to pra
y that sooner or later somebody would see the fire and call the fire department. I knew you weren’t far away.”
“You’d gone to bed then, when it started?”
“Yes, I read a bit and then fell asleep. I heard a noise and went onto the landing—but already flames were leaping upstairs and the whole place was filled with smoke. I can’t think how it started. Everything was all right when I went upstairs.”
“What about the heaters? Were they on high? Although, even if they were, I can’t see—”
But Nancy said she had turned them both low. It was a mystery and was likely to remain so unless the firemen had any explanations or theory to propose.
When they arrived at the Lodge, Freda insisted on both Vanessa and Nancy going straight upstairs to bed while she made hot drinks for them.
“You must both be in a state of shock, even though you might not realize it,” she said. “When Ian comes back I’ll let you know how things are, if you’re still awake.” Vanessa did not argue. After Nancy, she had a bath to remove the smell of smoke. As she slipped into bed Freda reported from her own bedroom window that the flames from Puck’s Hill had died down completely.
But Vanessa had more to keep her awake than the fire. Thoughts of Ian, her conversation with Freda, and everything she had said about Ian occupied her mind. Most of all, his murmured “darling” when he thought she was unconscious. Had she been dreaming or not? Freda had said that Ian would never ask her to marry him. Was it possible, was it remotely probable that Ian loved her, but the question of her inheritance was holding him back? She told herself that this was presuming a terrible lot. Suppose she were wrong? She tried to think back, to search her mind for any signs that Ian might feel the same about her as she did about him. They were only too rare. With few exceptions all she had to go on were Freda’s hints. But she decided that whatever the outcome she must make some effort to find out the truth of his regard, or lack of it for her, by subtle or direct means. Her own pride was a matter of no importance now. And Ian’s? Perhaps she should at least give him the opportunity of telling her how he felt first.
She was thinking about what she should say to him when she heard his car. A few minutes later, voices were downstairs, his own and Freda’s. Vanessa got out of bed quickly and put on a dressing gown she found behind the door. Ian and Freda were talking in the hall and looked up as she appeared.
“It’s all right, Vanessa,” Ian told her. “It’s out now. The firemen made sure of that. And I’ve locked the doors and windows.”
She walked slowly down the stairs. “Thanks for what you did, Ian. Is there much damage?”
“It could have been worse. But I would go back to bed, if I were you. We can talk about it in the morning. I’ll go over there with you first thing.”
She had reached the bottom stair and stood with her hand on the curved banister rail.
“I’m sorry if I made extra trouble for you by rushing inside,” she told him. “I was so worried—not only about Nancy, but about you.”
As she spoke she felt her cheeks coloring and her heartbeat quicken, but she stood her ground and waited for his reaction.
He gave her an unsmiling glance. “You—gave us all some anxious moments,” he said, “but it’s over now. I hope nothing like that ever happens again. Goodnight, Vanessa.”
Freda asked her if she’d like another drink, and Ian took the opportunity of disappearing into the kitchen. But with a heavy heart Vanessa went back to bed. It was not going to be easy to talk to Ian.
The house had been quiet for a very long time before she finally drifted off to sleep. As a consequence she slept late. When she went down to breakfast he had already eaten and was outside working. Nancy was having her breakfast in bed.
“She doesn’t seem any the worse,” Freda said. “What about you?”
Vanessa said she was fine and asked about Ian. Freda smiled.
“He put his coat over his head when he dashed up the stairs to Nancy—and later when he went in after you. So he hasn’t suffered any damage. Between ourselves,” she added, “he was pretty frantic when he knew you were inside.”
“Really?” asked Vanessa eagerly. “It’s so difficult to know what Ian is thinking.”
“That’s because he’s doing his best to hide his feelings. You’ll have to be very persistent, Vanessa,” Freda told her quietly.
After breakfast Ian left his work and drove Vanessa to Puck’s Hill. She thought he must be very adept indeed at hiding his feelings. It was difficult to believe that he had been remotely “frantic” for her safety the previous night.
After a brief inquiry as to how she was feeling after her ordeal, he was grim-faced and distant.
Vanessa was appalled at the damage to the staircase. The treads of the stairway were charred, the walls blackened, the banister burnt almost through.
“I’m afraid it won’t be safe for you to go upstairs, Vanessa,’’ Ian said. “You’ll have to stay with us for the time being. Nancy too, of course.”
To Vanessa, the way he put it made her feel she was being a nuisance. Some of her old pride asserted itself.
“There’s no ‘have to’ about it, Ian,” she answered. “I can stay somewhere in the village—the Stag, perhaps. Or maybe go home.”
“Home?” he echoed sharply. “But what about your business—and Nancy?”
“I can sell the stock and put an end to the business, or maybe get a manager in. And Nancy can have someone to live with her. Don’t worry about the house. I shall never sell Puck’s Hill,” she added swiftly.
He frowned. “You talk as if you intend leaving Barn Hill for good. Hadn’t you better wait until you hear from Mr. Oliver, the lawyer?”
There was not the slightest bit of regret in his voice that she might be leaving. She almost groaned aloud. She had not intended saying the kind of things to him that she had. An eternity seemed to pass in which Ian was being drawn farther and farther away from her until he was no more than a distant speck.
“Ian—” she said with swift, sharp urgency.
“Yes?” He looked at her oddly. “Is something wrong?”
She brought herself swiftly from her fantasy. But it was a fantasy which had served as a warning. If she did not take care, she would certainly lose Ian because of her own stupid pride.
“No, no, there’s nothing wrong. I—shall be glad to stay with you and Freda for a little while, thank you, if you’re sure I won’t be an inconvenience. But I’d like to talk to you some time, Ian.”
“What about?”
“Not now. Let’s go and look at the kitchen.”
Here the whole place was black—walls, ceiling, floor, the stove and sink unit. The table was burnt and charred; the curtains completely destroyed. Vanessa sniffed.
“Ian, I can smell paraffin.”
He nodded. “So could the firemen last night. And the two heating units were turned up as high as they could be.”
“Nancy says she turned them low; that everything was all right when she went to bed.”
“In any case—and I’ve been on the phone to Geoff—no matter how high the units had been they wouldn’t have caused fire to break out. And there’s no smell of paraffin ever with them.”
It was true. “Then how on earth could it have happened?” puzzled Vanessa.
“That’s probably what the police will find out.”
“The police?”
“Oh yes. They automatically investigate the cause of fires. If a cause can’t be found, then arson is suspected—and that’s a very serious matter.”
‘ “Arson?” Vanessa echoed again. “But who on earth—”
As she spoke there came a knock at the front door. Vanessa opened it to a police sergeant. He asked questions and took a good look around, then asked more questions.
“Who knew you’d had these heating units put in besides yourselves—and, of course, the heating engineer?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Very few people, I think,” she answered. �
��Mr. Hamilton and his sister, of course, and—yes, Miles Kendal.”
“Miles Kendal, the property developer?” the sergeant asked sharply.
“Why, yes, but—”
“Any of these people might have to be questioned,” he said. “But first of all, I must speak to Miss Gould. I understand she was in the house alone at the time.” The whole thing was now emerging as something quite alarming. Vanessa did not like it one bit. If only Nancy had left some clothes airing or something simple like that! But Vanessa knew that she hadn’t, nor would she ever. She was far too sensible and conscientious.
Vanessa opened her “shop” and Ian and the police sergeant went to the Lodge, the sergeant to interview Nancy. Later, Nancy joined her at Puck’s Hill and did her best to clean up the cooker and sink. The kitchen would need completely redecorating and the furniture replacing with new. Nancy wanted to pay for these herself, but Vanessa would not hear of it, though at present she could not see how she was going to be able to afford either a new kitchen or staircase which would include, also, hall and landing.
The whole affair was depressing beyond measure, particularly as the police decided that the fire was not an accident, but a result of arson. Someone was suspected of forcing open the lock of the front door by means of a picklock, and throwing paraffin over the stair carpet, banister, hall carpet and curtains—the same in the kitchen. Whoever it was had then turned up the heating units to make it appear like an accident—not knowing this would be impossible—then left open the front door and set a match to the paraffin. The police also interviewed Joe, the two men who had helped with the weed clearance, and Miles. The greatest suspect was Miles, but he denied being near the house on the night of the fire, as did the other men interviewed.
“I’d rather it were not proved,” Vanessa said to Ian that evening. “It’s too horrible to think about.”
To My Dear Niece Page 17