Where There's Smoke (1997)

by Simon Beckett

  "Kate."

  The word was like a shout in the silence. Kate pressed back against the wall. A dull glow came from beside her. She turned towards it and found herself looking at the lamp on the table. The room came into being around her as it grew brighter, small beds and cuddly toys. Mickey Mouse capered on the lampshade. Ellis stood in the doorway with his hand on the dimmer switch. His eyes were red from the petrol. She could see the dark splashes of it on his clothes. He stepped into the room, bringing a stronger reek of it with him. Kate stepped to one side, hoping to dart around him to the door, but he moved to block her. The knife was still gripped in his hand. Kate saw the dark smear on its blade. She backed between the bookshelves and the table again. Ellis stopped in the middle of the room.

  "You shouldn't have d-done it." He sounded calmer.

  Kate wasn't sure whether he meant run, or have an abortion. She couldn't speak.

  "You'd n-no right," he said. "It was my b-baby. You'd no right."

  She shook her head, but he wasn't looking. He was staring at her arm. "You're bleeding." He sounded surprised.

  Kate looked down. There was a gaping slice in the left sleeve of her coat. Her arm was soaked in blood. She had forgotten about it, but now it began to throb again. The pain goaded her.

  "What are you looking so upset about?" she demanded. She wiped her hand on her bloody sleeve and held it up to show him. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

  A stricken expression crossed his face. "I—I didn't mean to."

  "You didn't mean to? What the fuck did you mean, then?"

  Suddenly the weeks of fear boiled over. The sight of him infuriated her. "Is this my fault?"

  She thrust out her injured arm. "Is it? Did I make you cut me?"

  "N-no, I -"

  "So who made you? Who made you do any of this? Who made you kill Alex Turner?"

  He tore his eyes from her arm. "I t-told you! I d-didn't want that!"

  "He's still dead, though, isn't he? You didn't want to, but you still did! And his wife was pregnant, did you know that?"

  Kate could tell that he hadn't. He looked stricken.

  "N-no!"

  "She was eight months pregnant! She might even have had the baby by now, and Alex Turner's never going to see it because you killed him!"

  "N-no!"

  He shook his head, violently. "I-I didn't…"

  "You killed him, and now you want to kill an innocent family as well!"

  "Shut up!"

  He took a step towards her, but she was reckless now. "Why? You're going to burn me anyway! You've already cut me! What else are you going to do?"

  "I don't know," he shouted. "Leave me alone!"

  "Leave you alone?" Kate stared at him. "For God's sake, just listen to yourself! Think what you're doing."

  His features were contorted with pain. Seeing him, the anger drained out of her.

  "Put the knife down." She almost called him Alex, and in her haste to cover the slip she spoke without thinking. "You need help."

  His head jerked up. "What f-fucking help? People asking stupid qu-questions, telling me what my fucking p-problem is? They don't want to help. They just want me to behave. So long as I don't b-bother anybody else, they don't care! But nobody cares whether I'm bothered! Nobody c-cares about me!"

  I cared. The thought went unspoken. "Lucy and Jack did," she said instead.

  "No, they d-didn't! I thought they did, but they didn't! That's why I c-came here, but they're like all the rest!"

  "What about Angus and Emily?"

  "I don't want to t-talk about it!"

  "So you're just going to kill them, too? Burn them, like you did your own family?"

  Shock bleached his face. "Who t-told you that?"

  "Never mind who told me, it's true, isn't it?"

  "N-no!"

  "Yes, it is! You set fire to the house while your mother and father and your brothers were asleep, and then you stood and watched them burn!"

  "I d-didn't! It wasn't like that, it was an accident!"

  "An accident that you set fire to the house?"

  "Yes! No! I d-don't -" His voice was anguished. "I didn't mean to hurt them. I just wanted them to take n-notice of me. They were always fighting, and leaving me with M-Michael and Andrew and—and they'd d-do things to me, and then I'd try to tell my m-mum and dad and they wouldn't believe me! Even though I kept telling them, they wouldn't. And then my G-gran tried to help, she tried to t-tell them, and they started shouting, and—and then Gran was on the floor, all blue her f-face was blue. And they said she was—she was dead, and nobody—nobody c-cared except me. So I lit the fire, and I thought, N-now they'll listen, now they'll know, they'll be sorry…"

  His eyes were focused on something Kate couldn't see. "And it started b-burning, and I could see right into the flames, like it was another world, all clean and pure. I watched them, and…and nothing worried me any more. They got bigger and bigger, until there wasn't anything else, and they were…they were beautiful."

  "But it isn't beautiful afterwards, is it?" Kate said.

  His face clouded, losing its transcendent quality. "No." For a moment he looked like a young boy, lost and scared.

  "You didn't mean to hurt them," Kate said.

  "N-no."

  "Do you want to hurt Angus and Emily?"

  He shook his head.

  "Let them go, then! Please!"

  "I c-can't."

  "Why?"

  "It's too late." It was a whisper.

  "It isn't!" Kate shouted. "It isn't too late! Think about it! Think about how you'll feel afterwards!"

  He looked at her. "There won't be any after."

  She had seen the same expression on his face when the man had thrown himself onto the bonfire. Perhaps it didn't seem horrible to him. She hadn't understood it then.

  "This is what you want, isn't it?" She couldn't keep from saying it. "This is what you've always wanted."

  His gaze was still on faraway flames. She noticed his grip shift on the kitchen knife.

  "It's g-got to be done."

  She could feel him slipping into the fatalism of earlier. She tried to cut through it.

  "Got to be done? Like Paul Sutherland? Did killing him 'have to be done' as well?"

  His eyes snapped back to her. "He was a d-drunk. He deserved it. Drunks are b-burning themselves up already."

  "So you thought you'd save him the job?" she mocked. "Come on, what's your excuse? You've always got one! Let's hear it? Was it because he hit you?"

  "No." He had a sullen expression.

  "Why, then? You didn't even know him?"

  "I knew what he'd d-done!"

  His sudden heat surprised her. It took Kate a moment to realise what he meant.

  "Oh, my God. You killed him because of what he did to me?"

  Ellis wouldn't look at her.

  "What about what you've, done?" she demanded.

  "That's d-different!"

  "How? How is it?"

  "Because you k-killed our b-baby!"

  "I haven't killed our baby," she screamed back at him. "I haven't killed anything. I'm still pregnant for God's sake! I've been sick every fucking morning and…oh, Christ!"

  She broke off, putting her head in her hands. When she looked up, Ellis was still watching her. But now he had a strange, almost frightened expression.

  "I lied about the abortion," Kate said, quietly. "I wanted to hurt you. I'd been told you were dead, and gone to identify you and seen it was somebody else, and found out you weren't Alex Turner, and…And I wanted to hurt you back."

  She felt tears closing in. "Jesus Christ, what did you expect? I loved you!"

  He was looking at her like a man woken from one bad dream, only to find himself in another.

  "You're still p-pregnant?"

  Kate closed her eyes, nodded wearily. There was an almost inaudible moan. She opened her eyes. Ellis was hugging himself, gently rocking backwards and forwards. Tears were trickling down his face.<
br />
  "Oh, G-God." He closed his eyes in anguish. "Oh, God. Everything's gone wrong."

  Kate moved fractionally away from the wall. "Just let us go. You can do that now, can't you? There's no need to hurt anybody."

  He didn't say anything. Just rocked himself, crying quietly.

  "You don't want to hurt the baby, do you?" Kate urged. "Not after all this?"

  Ellis shook his head.

  "Let us go, then. Give me the knife and let us go."

  He didn't seem to have heard. He was still shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've made such a m-mess of things. I'm sorry."

  He was crying as he came towards her, and Kate was never sure if he was apologising for what he had done, or for what he was about to do. She saw the knife in his hand and instinctively swept the lamp off the table at him.

  There was a bang as the bulb exploded. She cringed back, dazzled by the flash, waiting for the cut of the knife. But none came. And then the darkness was broken by a new, unsteady illumination.

  The igniting petrol on Ellis's clothes filled the room with a sick light. As Kate's eyes adjusted she saw him beating at the flames on his arm and chest. The next moment they had spread like a floodtide to his shoulders and head.

  There was a clatter as he dropped the knife. He cried out, taking wild swipes at himself as his hair caught fire. The light in the room was brighter now, more yellow, and the stink of burning hair and petrol made Kate gag. She stood, too stunned to act, and then ran forward and began to slap at the fire leaping from Ellis's head. Her hands came away covered in blue gloves of flame as the petrol on them caught.

  Panicking, she beat them out against her coat, feeling the first sting of it, and then grabbed a quilt from the nearest bed.

  She tried to throw it over Ellis but he reeled away, lurching first into the wall and then from the room. Hindered by the bulk of the quilt, Kate chased after him. The flames threw a crazy light on the walls as he staggered blindly down the corridor, flailing at himself, and she knew what was going to happen an instant before it did. She shouted as he hit the railing at the end of the corridor, too far away to grab him, and in a swift, choreographed motion he toppled over.

  There was a thud as he hit the floor below. Everything was suddenly dark again. Kate rushed down the stairs, not pausing to search for a light switch, and ran to the figure lying in the hall. Ellis had landed on the boxes by the cellar door, splitting them open and scattering paper over the carpet.

  Some of the flames had been snuffed by the impact, but he was still burning. Fire was already beginning to lick at the surrounding paper and boxes, less dramatic in the light from the open lounge doorway. Kate flung the quilt over him and beat at the motionless body, but a sudden pain in her leg made her cry out and jerk back. One corner of the quilt had been trailing in a cluster of burning papers, and had caught fire. She snatched it away, trying to stifle the flames, before she saw it was starting to burn in other places as well.

  Kate flung it against the floor, stamping and kicking at it, cursing Lucy for buying a cheap, non-retardant quilt.

  Something stung her cheek. She brushed off a glowing piece of ash. Looking up, she saw the hall was full of them.

  The stink of petrol from the lounge returned like a forgotten threat, and she turned in time to see burning scraps of paper drift like black leaves through the open doorway.

  The light from it suddenly changed. Angus screamed.

  "Oh, Jesus, no," Kate breathed.

  She dropped the smouldering quilt and ran past Ellis to the lounge. The heat struck her before she reached it. The room was full of fire. Flames clamoured from everything the petrol had touched. The carpet was awash with them. The curtains were blazing rags, while the stack of posters was a torch that sent waves of smoke and ash across the Victorian mouldings. Kate recoiled, but the children's screams were a stronger spur. She could see beyond the flames that the area around the leather settee and chair was still clear, and without waiting she pulled her coat around her head and darted through the doorway.

  Hot hands patted her back and nipped her legs, and then she was through. She kept to the side of the room away from the windows, where the fire had yet to reach, and ran to the settee. Jack was ducking forward, thrashing his head around, and she could see how the back of his hair was singed and smouldering. A yard or two behind him the remains of the petrol can was a roaring yellow beacon that flared to the ceiling. He had managed to pull Emily so she lay across his lap, shielded from the worst of it, and Kate slapped at his hair, feeling the bite of the sparks on her already burned hands. Across from her Lucy's eyes were frantic as she sat bound and gagged in the leather armchair, protected so far by its high, winged back.

  Jack pulled his head away, lifting his chin for Kate to remove the tape from his mouth.

  "Get the kids out!" he gasped, when she yanked it off.

  "What about you?"

  "No time! For Christ's sake, do it!"

  Kate wavered, knowing she would never get back in for Lucy and Jack. It was already like trying to breathe in the open door of a furnace. The room was filling with smoke as the flames spread, crowding the enclosure formed by the chairs and settee. Kate looked across at Lucy. Her blue eyes were wide and tearful over the tape as she nodded.

  Kate snatched Angus from the playpen and grabbed up Emily from Jack's lap. Emily began screaming, "Mummy! Mummy!" as she carried them away. Kate saw Jack gnawing at the tape around his wrists, and suddenly she went back. Still holding the children, she awkwardly knelt in front of him.

  "What the fuck are you doing? Get out!" Jack shouted, but she had already bent to take the tape binding his ankles between her teeth. She tugged and worried at it, then it ripped and with a jerk he pulled his legs free.

  "Right, now go!" he shouted.

  She stood up, hoisting Angus and Emily into better positions, her wounded arm throbbing under their weight.

  Jack was on his hands and knees, biting at the tape binding Lucy's feet, pulling at it with his still fastened hands as Kate struggled with the two children to the wall furthest from the flames. She flinched at a pop from overhead as the light-bulb burst, but its light was hardly needed now. Squinting against the heat, she pressed their faces into her coat as she edged passed the blazing petrol can, and then stopped.

  Through the smoke, she saw that the door-frame and the carpet in front of it was engulfed.

  "Jack!" she shouted.

  She heard him swear, and then there was a sudden clatter.

  She turned and saw him dragging the rug from the floor, his wrists free and bleeding now, tipping the coffee table from it. He lurched towards her, wincing and clumsy with the pain of returning circulation, while behind him Lucy hobbled and almost fell. Kate started forward to help, but hot smoke suddenly took the air from her lungs. Coughing and fighting for breath, she turned her face and buried her mouth and nose in her coat as Jack pushed past and began to lash with the heavy rug at the flames around the door.

  Lucy made it to her and half collapsed on Kate's shoulder, chest heaving as she struggled to draw in air and cough with her mouth still covered by tape. She tried to peel it off, but her wrists were also bound, and another choking spasm doubled her up. Kate supported her as best she could, unable to do anything more with the children clinging to her. The skin of her face felt tight as they staggered after Jack. She could smell her hair beginning to burn. It was becoming difficult to see through the heat and smoke. She ducked as a sudden bang from the far side of the room threw a punch of white-hot flame at them. It was followed straight away by two more as the aerosol cans exploded. Cowering against the wall, Kate could hear a metallic pinging even above the roar of the fire and remembered the tins of lighter fluid. So did Jack, because she saw him dart a glance towards that corner before turning to where she and Lucy were huddled.

  "Come on!" he shouted, and swept the thick rug over them like a man sheltering under a jacket. "Move!"

  They stumbled towards the doo
r. The carpet in front of it was still on fire, but Jack had beaten it down enough to pass, and the tented rug shielded them from the burning doorframe. Kate felt the hot lash of flames on her legs, and then they were out in the relative cool of the hall.

  Ellis still lay face down. His clothes had largely burned away, and most of the papers and boxes around him had now caught. Kate faltered, but Jack draped the rug between them and Ellis's pyre, blocking it from view as he herded them past.

  Further along the quilt was blazing where Kate had left it, lying across the width of the hall. Jack stepped forward and flung the rug over it. It landed with a heavy whumf, snuffing the quilt's flames like a candle. They went over it to the front door. The smoke was suffocating as Jack struggled with the lock. Then it clacked free, and he pulled open the door and ushered them out into the night's sweet, cold air.

  They staggered down the path in a cluster, supporting each other, not halting until they reached the gate. Kate looked back. Smoke was billowing out through the open door, and without thinking what she was doing she set down the children and ran back to the house.

  She heard Jack shout, then she was in the hallway and the thick heat and smoke closed around her again. Holding her breath, she ran to where Ellis lay, barely able to see as she kicked aside the flaming papers and took hold of his feet.