by C. J. Flood
T-Birds and Pink Ladies from the cast looked around for their families while the screech of the alarm cut through everything, hurting my ears and stressing everyone out. I thought of Dad, flapping his tea towel – I was due home; we had been on our way – but I couldn’t leave without knowing what was happening.
The spring air was icy, and no one was wearing enough clothes, except for me and Kiaru. I pulled Mum’s hat down further over my ears, grateful to him for suggesting it. Mums and dads and grandparents pulled spring coats round themselves, dipping heads into collars.
Kes had walked to the centre of the playground and was shouting orders, but we couldn’t hear him over the alarm and the calls of panicked parents and the wind. Beside him, Mr Miles waved his arms for people to make their way towards him, but nobody moved in his direction.
Petals from the crab-apple trees spun in the air all around us, and scanning the crowd for Alisha, Kiaru and I huddled together for warmth. A petal landed on the furry hood of his parka, and I imagined we were the centrepiece in a Fairfields snow dome as the pink fragments churned round us. Wind roared in my ears and pushed at my back, then my front, tunnelling under my coat and through my layers.
Two fire engines arrived, blasting their sirens. They drove straight from the car park into the playing fields, and we followed the flashing blue lights, in spite of Mr Miles’s orders not to. Word rippled through the crowd: this was no false alarm.
Charlie came up to us frothing with news, still in her Pink Ladies jacket. ‘It’s the Drama block,’ she said, round-eyed. ‘Chase is totally hysterical. Crying and everything. Don’t worry though, Kiaru, Alisha’s over there.’
‘Thank god,’ Kiaru said, and we ran over to hug her. At the same moment the whole crowd began running – parents, toddlers, grandparents. We all ran towards the fire. More sirens could be heard in the distance, and a police car drove through the crowd, then an ambulance. Kiaru’s face flashed blue and he grabbed for my hand.
‘Can you smell smoke?’ we asked each other, unsure if we were imagining it, but it was becoming undeniable: a thick poisonous cloud wafted over us, scorching our noses and throats.
Police pushed us back, ordering us to leave so they could do their job, but nobody listened. We couldn’t. There were too many of us needing to know what was going on. Parents clustered in small groups with their kids and their kids’ friends, watching in disbelief as tall men with shaved heads and dirty, yellow overalls pulled out rolls of hose, the textbook choreography of fire.
Water began trickling from the hose, then spraying, then a full gust shot into the Drama block, and the smoke began to blacken and thicken. Head prefects Katy Johnson and Ethan Crisp joined the police and firemen in shouting at everyone to stay back. Red and white safety tape appeared, and still the crowd pushed forward, determined to get a proper view of the school as it burned. We gasped together, as though at a fireworks display.
It was incomputable.
Flames raged out of the top of what had been the Drama block, as a stream of water arced into the building. Droplets sprayed onto our faces and the smoke glowed orange against the dark sky, the wind whipping sparks and ash to land in people’s hair and on their shoulders.
‘The rain,’ I said, and Kiaru nodded. It was coming. We’d seen it.
Kes must have run with the rest of us, because he now stood at the front of the opposite side of the crowd, watching with his hands over his mouth as the windows began to explode. Inside the building, something collapsed, and the crowd let out a wail. Charlie, who I hadn’t noticed was beside me, burst into noisy tears, and then I realized that the men who had gone inside a moment before, wearing safety helmets and fireproofs, had reappeared and that they were carrying something.
A stretcher with a person on it.
Charlie wailed again, and Alex put his arm round her, and I wondered vaguely where Will was, and my body thrilled with horror that someone was hurt.
Nobody was allowed anywhere near, but late-arriving parents who hadn’t found their kids yet rushed the police manning the boundary, clamouring to see who they were pulling from the building. Kiaru squeezed my hand, and I squeezed his back, half hypnotized, glad and then guilty that everyone I cared about was accounted for.
Kes’s hands moved from his mouth to cover his eyes, and people cried openly without seeming to know it. I didn’t have a single properly formed thought until Kiaru nudged my arm, and told me it was five past nine.
‘I have to get you back,’ he said, as though I were a child or Cinderella, and I was too bewildered to protest.
More windows popped like gunshots and glass rained gold with fire, and Alisha was transfixed, resting her head on her mum’s shoulder in the juddering firelight. She barely looked up as we said goodbye, and walking away from the heat, the way my and Kiaru’s fingers wrapped round each other was no longer to do with romance. My teeth chattered all the way home.
Thirty-one
Sunshine flooded my windows, last night’s storm forgotten, and Dad brought me a cup of tea, kissing my head like we were close again. It all came rushing back: the flames, the body, the firemen, ash from above.
‘Have you heard anything?’ I asked, and Dad held my hand.
‘I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m afraid it was your teacher that you saw last night. It was Ms Chase.’
‘What?’
‘She’s in hospital, apparently. I don’t know any more than that. There’s nothing concrete online yet. I’m going to walk down to get the paper. D’you want anything?’
I groaned into my pillow, nauseous. The day was going to be a difficult one, but I forced myself to sit up and face it. I needed to make friends with Ti, that was the first thing, and I wasn’t going to let anyone stop me. Not even her. All this calamity put things in perspective. I would talk to Dad, like Kiaru said, and then walk round there and apologize. Maybe I could take a present . . . or Joey! She wouldn’t be able to hate me if I had Joey with me. He was my secret weapon. The phone rang and then Dad shouted upstairs. ‘Rosie? It’s Fabio,’ and his voice sounded odd because what was Fab doing calling me? A shock through my body, like an anchor dropping, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears. Had something happened to Ti?
I ran to where Dad stood holding the phone in the hallway, with an anxious expression.
‘Rosie? Bella? That you?’ Fab’s frightened voice was like a pin in my neck.
‘It’s me.’
‘Have you seen Titania? She didn’t come home last night. She and her sister were meant to open up today but there’s still no sign of them.’
I swallowed without meaning to. They didn’t come home? What did he mean? They weren’t allowed out. ‘I haven’t seen them.’
‘No? Neither of them? Tell the truth, eh? We’re worried sick. You won’t get into trouble.’
‘I haven’t seen them.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m sorry, I wish I had. If Ti calls or anything I’ll let you know.’
I’d barely put the phone down when I began shouting.
‘Dad! I need my phone back right now! Ti’s missing, I need to check my emails!’
‘Keep your voice down!’ Dad hissed. ‘There’s no need to panic your mum.’
‘Phone and internet,’ I demanded. I was done hiding things from Mum. She didn’t get out of bed either way.
‘What’s happened?’ Joey called, running down the attic stairs in his Superman onesie.
Dad pulled my mobile from his back pocket, muttering about how he’d been planning to let me have it back today because I’d been so mature this week. I snatched it from him, turning it on, watching impatiently as the screen loaded up.
‘I’ll get your computer,’ he said, heading downstairs. ‘Just calm down a bit. I’m sure Titania is fine.’
‘Everything all right down there?’ Mum shouted, and I called up that no, it wasn’t, because Ti hadn’t returned home since last night, and where else did she have to sleep, since she wasn’t allowed to slee
p over here any more?
‘Do they think she’s with Ophelia?’ Dad said, returning with my laptop, but I didn’t answer, just took it from him, and headed to my bedroom.
‘They’ll be up to something somewhere,’ he said, and his voice was so unworried it enraged me. ‘They’ll be fine, I promise you.’
‘Oh, it’s fine for Ti to be out all night, is it? So long as I’m not involved it doesn’t matter?’
‘Rosie, come on,’ he pleaded, but I didn’t have time to make him feel better.
‘What’s going on? Is Ti okay?’ Joey asked, trailing me into my bedroom, his pyjamas so faded you could hardly tell which superhero he was supposed to be.
‘I just need to see if she’s been in touch,’ I said as neutrally as I could.
Fat raindrops slapped against the window and I imagined Dad walking down the drive, pulling up the collar of his shirt, off to get the paper. I hoped he got soaked.
Wherever Ti was, let it be warm and dry.
As my emails and messages loaded I felt I would die with suspense.
Finally the list flashed up.
Eleven missed calls. One voice message.
All from Ti.
Thirty-two
‘You have one, new, message. Received at eight, twenty-seven.’
Beeeeep.
‘Rosie? Where are you? Why won’t you answer? I really need you, Rose. Will your parents let me in if I come over? Ophelia’s lost it. Will said the whole thing was a mistake, and Ophelia’s blaming Dad, and I got in the way. I thought he was going to hit her again. He was – I can’t . . . I can’t believe what I’m saying . . . I’m so angry. I feel so . . . stupid, I never thought he’d do it to me. Oh my god, can you hear her? The police are going to be round in a minute . . . He’s locked her in, and she’s going crazy; she’s smashing everything up. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. Oh my god, can you hear her? Ophelia! Ophelia, stop it! Please stop it. Oh god, Rosie, she’s lost it. She’s really lost it; she’s broken in the head. Please answer your phone. I can’t stay here. I don’t know what to do. I can’t live here any more. I don’t know where to go. Rosie, where are you? I need you. Where are you, Rosie? I really need—’
Beeeeep.
Thirty-three
Ti’s mobile went straight to answerphone, and I guessed Fab and June still hadn’t let her have it back. Her missed calls were all within minutes of each other on Friday evening from the landline. Her voice, babbling and frightened, made me cry.
Where was she? I felt responsible, like I’d lost her myself. Like she was something precious I could have carried in my pocket, which I’d forgotten to take care of.
I stroked Joey’s hair for comfort as I played the message again. He had come in with his handheld computer, to sit beside me on the bed, and his thumbs clicked and clicked. He was the only one that hadn’t lost faith in her, and I loved him for it.
My phone beeped, sending my fingers shaking as I begged the world and fate and gods that it was Ti.
But it was from a number I didn’t have saved in my contacts.
NICE FRIENDS YOU’VE GOT. HIGH-FIVE TI FOR ME
The number ended 999, and I remembered: Charlie Fielding. Someone not to call in an emergency. I’d deleted her years ago, but she evidently hadn’t deleted me.
NOT JUST STALKERS BUT KILLERS NOW TOO
Chase had died!? What was she talking about? It couldn’t be true. I breathed in the clean, soapy smell of Joey’s hair, trying not to freak out, but my heartbeat was like something outside of my body, like being walloped with a stick every other second. Ti had started the fire? Is that what Charlie meant? It wasn’t possible. But Ophelia . . .
Last time Will had dumped her, she’d thrown a book he’d bought her through his bedroom window. It was the Philip Pullman trilogy, a thick dark green hardback, and it had smashed straight through. Ophelia had got her first caution from the police and was banned from ever going round there again, even though she’d been friends on-and-off with Charlie for years.
That whole cracked night Ti had followed her sister around, unable to talk her down or get her home, but unwilling to leave either. She’d been with her every second, witnessed every moment, and when I asked why she hadn’t stopped her, she’d got mad.
‘I couldn’t, obviously,’ she said. ‘Obviously I tried.’
But Charlie hadn’t said Ophelia. She’d said Ti. I wanted to call Fab back, but less than two minutes had passed since we had spoke and I was so angry with him for hurting Ti that I didn’t know what I’d say. My legs itched and my heart juddered. I had to do something.
I still knew Charlie’s home number off by heart.
There were a few rings, then someone answered; only it wasn’t someone answering, but a snooty recording asking me to leave my details.
‘I need a lift!’ I called out, putting my phone in my pocket, and dashing upstairs to where a damp Dad was whispering with Mum. ‘Dad? Please. I need a lift.’
I was half shouting, half crying, and Dad stood straight away, scooping his keys off the Flushing Packet, which lay open on the bed. FIRE AT FAIRFIELDS was the headline. Mum squeezed his hand, and he leant down to kiss her cheek.
‘Come on,’ I said, unable to appreciate the moment of affection between them in my panic.
Thirty-four
Will Fielding knew something. He had to. I bit at my lip, wishing Dad would go faster as we drove along Castle Road, noticing traces of the storm Kiaru and me had watched coming in. A tree had fallen near the castle car park, and there were leaves and twigs all over the road. At the top of the hill, where the cliff was too steep for houses, police tape covered a huge hole in the trees and hedgerow.
‘Jesus,’ Dad said.
A car had gone over the edge of the cliff. Black skids marked the road and splintered trunks showed their milky insides. Dad didn’t slow down, and I knew we were both thinking of Ti.
I avoided looking at Kiaru’s house as we approached Charlie and Will’s, tried not to remember his kiss and how I’d liquefied, because where had Ti been then? Calling my mobile again and again? I didn’t allow myself even a glance. Until I knew Ti was safe I wouldn’t think of him.
The Fieldings’ house was buttery yellow brick with huge feature windows and a balcony along the front, and Sophie was unpacking shopping from their gold Mitsubishi in the drive when we pulled in. Looking to see who had arrived, her expression fell, as though she had expected someone more important.
‘Rosie!’ she called, recovering fast. ‘How are you holding up? Dreadful news about Ms Chase this morning, isn’t it? Did you hear? She took a turn for the worse, and they’ve moved her into intensive care. She went in to try to save something, silly woman, and got trapped inside. It was touch and go for a moment there. Char is beside herself. She’s buying a card and flowers as we speak. We were there when the firemen pulled her out, you know. Unrecognizable. Poor woman.’
Dad gave Sophie a severe look, but she was oblivious. Relief flooded through me that Chase was alive, and I sent up thanks as Sophie shouted to Will.
‘Empty the boot of shopping please, as well, before you disappear upstairs again,’ she said coldly, as Will appeared, looking confused to see my face. ‘Mimi’s almost here.’
At the name I had a flash of Charlie’s grandmother: linen suits and backcombed hair. At one of Charlie’s sleepovers years ago she’d shouted ‘sex’ when taking our photo, and Charlie, Mia and me had fallen about laughing. I still had a copy of the picture somewhere, the three of us leaning on each other and hysterical in pastel pyjamas. A different me.
‘I won’t stand any more bother on account of you today, young man.’
Will closed his eyes slowly, as though one more word from his mother might make them burst from his head, and he seemed tense, unlike the way he was at school. He had a cut across his right cheek, and a fat lip, and his hair was more like a banana pancake than a Mr Whippy. He held himself very straight like he’d never met me, though we’d spen
t hours together as kids.
‘What’s up?’ he said, and I saw scratches on his neck too, as though he’d fallen from a tree, though you couldn’t imagine him climbing one. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he wanted me to leave.
‘Have you seen Ophelia?’ I said, and Will’s eyes flicked over my shoulder, spooked.
‘Christ’s sake,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t mention that name round here. Her dad only just left; he was up here shouting his mouth off again. Mum nearly had to call the police.’
Dad’s engine hummed at the end of the drive, and I could see him through the windshield, listening to Sophie with a grim expression.
‘So you haven’t seen her?’
‘Not since last night, no. Why does everyone keep asking me that? She was going off on one before the show. Usual craziness.’
He stepped out from the doorstep to begin unloading the boot, like he didn’t want me examining him too closely. I hadn’t talked to him one-on-one for years, and I might have been intimidated if I couldn’t remember him as a little boy. He was a total show-off like Charlie, always singing or dancing or clowning around. Once, when he was eight or nine, he’d shown us how a boy could hide his willy between his legs so it looked like he was a girl. Following him to the car now, I held that in my mind, refusing to be discouraged by his unfriendliness.
‘What happened to your face?’
‘I walked into a door.’
‘Pffff. What about the scratches on your neck?’
‘The cat did it; she never learned to put her claws in.’
‘Will, I know you were a couple.’
‘We were not a couple. The girl’s delusional.’
‘Well, you were something.’
‘What’s with all the amateur sleuthing all of a sudden? Is it the latest craze for teenage girls?’
‘Look, I don’t care about you and Ophelia, I’m worried about Ti.’
‘The whole family’s insane. Bloody Italians. Don’t know how I ever put up with her.’