"I'm gonna have a shower," I said, "And get these bloody clothes off. I'll be ten minutes."
"Okay darling," Mum said. "There's a towel in the airing cupboard."
"I know. Thanks."
I got up and walked to my old bedroom.
Everything looked the same, eerily so, as if nothing at all had happened. As I showered I wondered how long it would take for me to feel a part of it all again and whether a knock on the door would come before I even had the chance to try and make things right.
Having put on clean clothes for the first time in ages, I went back to join my family and ate my meal, devouring each mouthful far quicker than I knew was sensible. If indigestion was the only thing I'd have to worry about though, I'd be a lucky man.
"That was lovely, Mum. Boy, I've missed your cooking."
She smiled at me as I placed the cutlery in the middle of the empty plate.
"Do you mind if I crash? I'm so tired. I just need to lay on something comfortable…it's been a long, long day."
"Of course, it's late anyway," Mum said. "I have the day off tomorrow, so we'll talk then."
I pushed the dining room chair under the table and reached down to give Mum a hug. She held me tight as I kissed her goodnight, and again I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.
Pink stood up to leave too, walking towards me to hug me. I let go of Mum and held my sister, squeezing her tight.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, wiping her eyes. "Just having you here now…it's…" Her voice trailed off.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sue," I told her.
After kissing Mum and Dad goodbye, she closed the door behind her. I gave Dad a kiss and a hand shake, looking into his eyes, silently thanking him for all he'd done.
I left them and sank into bed wondering about the mess I'd left behind between them in the living room, but within a couple of minutes I was asleep.
There was a gentle tap on the door. "Dave, you awake?"
"Yes Mum, just resting."
I'd been woken up about ten minutes earlier by the sound of the morning rain hitting the window, surprised I'd slept for so long. I tried to put what had happened into some kind of perspective, but everything was still an ugly mess of disconnected thoughts.
Mum came in with a mug of coffee and some hot, buttered toast.
"Here you are, darling," she said placing it on the bedside table under the window.
"Thanks Mum," I said. "It sure beats oranges and water." I smiled — a thin smile — trying to make light of it.
"Dad told me everything," she said. "I just can't believe it."
I propped myself up on one elbow and took a mouthful of coffee, relishing the feeling of it sliding down my throat and warming me from the inside.
"You know how I heard about it, don't you?" she went on.
"Yes, Bob told me. I'm so sorry, Mum; I don't know what to say."
"I know you've been through a lot," she said, her voice firmer now. "But you've shamed us. You know that, don't you?"
I opened my mouth to speak but she carried on.
"Our name's been plastered all over the papers. People are still talking about it. First drink driving and getting arrested for that, then losing your job and your home…"
She was getting angrier; her voice rising to a level I wasn't used to. I let her continue, unable to say anything or defend myself, not even wanting to.
"And now this, Dave." Her fingers were twitching, softly clenching into her palms as she grabbed the material on her dressing gown and twisted it around. "Prison. Can you imagine what people at work, here, everywhere, have been saying? You — my son — in prison for arson and manslaughter. Dave, how could you get involved in all of this?"
Putting down the half empty mug of coffee on the bedside table, I slid under the duvet, ashamed. I was so full of complete and utter guilt.
"And Dad," she went on. "What he went through to get that ticket."
"I know Mum," I told her, the words catching in my throat and losing themselves in the thickness of the covers.
Dad had saved me, I knew that. And I knew exactly what he'd risked in doing so. He'd had every reason to turn his back on me and walk away — every reason to cast me from the family. But he hadn't. None of them had.
The tears flowed freely, streaming down my face, disappearing into the warmth of the sheets. Mum sat at the end of the bed, her silence speaking more words than if she'd opened her mouth. I felt her place her hand on my leg; a firm indication that she wasn't about to leave me. She never would; I knew that. And somehow it made me feel like that no matter what happened, I'd be ok.
It would be ok.
"Dad told me you saved two people's lives."
I waited for a moment, bringing alive the images in my mind. "Yes," I told her. "I did." My thoughts of them vanished and were immediately replaced with images of the charred, dead bodies, burnt in front of me on the floor, the ones I didn't save, the ones I couldn't.
"I've put your clothes in the bin. They're gone now."
"Mum…"
"They were ruined, Dave. They stank of smoke. You can get others."
I eased myself from under the covers and sat up, the duvet wrapped around my waist. Mum looked at me, tears beginning to show, trying to deal with her own guilt.
"I couldn't come to the airport," she said, her voice faltering. "I wanted to, I was more or less out the door with them, but I was so angry, so upset." Her voice softened. "Dave, you're my son. I'm so happy you're here and I love you so much but…"
I took hold of her hand, my heart breaking.
"…I love you, son, but what have you done?"
Outside, the sun rose, and a solitary milk cart made its way down the road, the gentle whir and hum of its engine breaking the silence. In the distance, early birds flew through the skies, their squawks and calls cutting through the dawn.
"Mum?"
She looked at me, her face as beautiful as it ever was but the sadness lodged in every fold of her skin.
"Yes Darling?" Her soft eyes looked at me and her head tilted slightly, just to the left, so half of her face was in the light of the morning sun.
"Come here," I said, and she moved towards me, reaching out, taking me into her arms as she had done for all of her life.
"You know…I just want to be normal… just like everyone else."
After that, there were no words. The birds flew by, and the milk float made its way to the end of the street, and the sun rose in the sky and my Mum continued to hold me, not for a moment letting go.
I'd made it home.
But in twenty years, I've never — not for a single second — forgotten about the ones who didn't.
AFTERWORD
Thank you for buying and reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I had the pleasure in writing it. Even though I'm not a writer, I needed to get this story out of my system; not just to prove my innocence, but to get it out in the open. The newspaper headlines were damming and they still continue to haunt me. Someone once told me that things are better out than in.
Since this happened at the beginning of the nineties, I've spent my life looking over my shoulder. Unbelievably, I haven't had any communication at all from anyone; not from the Spanish or the UK police, nor from Paul or the court.
I haven't been back to Spain since the day I left, but I've been to many countries since. Even though I always fear the worse, I haven't had one problem with passport control or security. I've endured many sleepless nights though, and still have nightmares about everything that happened. It's been twenty years, but not a week goes by without me thinking of the two people I saved and the many more that I couldn't.
The images of the dead bodies in the hotel are etched in my mind and will be with me for as long as I live. Whenever I'm on my own at home, on my way to work, sitting looking out at the ocean or walking in the countryside, I reflect about what I went through. Sometimes it doesn't feel real, like it never happened. Maybe that's me just wishi
ng it never did.
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