by JD Nixon
That news didn’t thrill me, but I didn’t argue. Frankly I didn’t have the strength to argue with anyone. It took all my energy just to blink.
He continued. “Farrell was lucky. The beam didn’t break his ankle, but it is badly sprained and bruised. He’ll be using the crutches for a few weeks. He’ll probably be released tomorrow.”
“What happened?” I rasped. “Explosions.”
“It seems the blaze was started by candles at the back of the house catching onto the potted palms. Them burning overheated the gas cylinders of the barbeque. The fire spreading into the house ignited the gas main in the kitchen. That caused the collapse of the ceiling.”
“The two inside?”
Heller shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
I nodded to show I’d heard him, but my eyes grew heavy and I drifted away from them without even saying goodbye.
It was night time when I woke up again and I had no idea how long I’d slept. Daniel was sitting next to my bed, his face drawn with anxiety. I tried to smile at him to let him know I was okay, laying my bandaged palm lightly on top of his hand. I couldn’t stand for anyone to touch me, but I found that me touching him was bearable, as I controlled the level of pressure on my skin.
“Tilly,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. He leaned down to kiss me but couldn’t find a spot clear of the horrible gel. “You look . . .”
“Bloody awful?” I whispered.
He nodded with a rueful smile. “Heller said you’re not allowed to speak, so don’t say another word or I’ll get in trouble with him.”
“I won’t tell him,” I whispered.
“Water?” he asked and I nodded. He manoeuvred the straw into my mouth and I took a couple of big sips. I guess I had a catheter in, but I couldn’t tell. I didn’t feel strong enough to move around yet and that must mean a catheter. How awful.
“You and Farrell are heroes, Tilly. You saved all those people between you and then you saved Farrell as well.”
“Stop it. Just doing our job.” I sipped from the straw again. “Two died.”
“It was all over the news. The media are still talking about it, especially all those naked people being rescued. Discovering it was a swingers’ party only made it more of a hot story.” I wished he didn’t say the word ‘hot’ – my skin was so incandescent that I felt like the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four. “They even interviewed that guy, the host. What was his name?”
“Marty.”
“Yeah, him. They interviewed him from his hospital bed about the swingers’ club. He agreed to be interviewed but made them pixelate his face so he could remain anonymous.” I nodded to show I was listening. “Was it as sordid as you were worrying about?”
“Worse. No more, please.”
“I’m sorry, Tilly. That’s not up to me.”
I shrugged philosophically. It made my skin hurt. I yawned. That made my skin hurt too. My eyelids drooped again and I surrendered them to gravity.
I had a range of visitors over the next few days, all from work. I asked Heller not to tell my family what had happened, as I didn’t want to worry them, and I was becoming stronger and fitter each day. Farrell visited me a few times and we talked about that evening in sober tones, wondering if we could have done things better or could have saved those other people.
Marty and Gabriela visited me early one evening, catching Farrell there as well. They appeared to be fully recovered from their ordeal and had brought me an enormous bouquet of gorgeous flowers. It came with a card to both Farrell and me, which they assured us was signed by every guest we’d rescued that night.
“We can’t thank you two enough. You saved our lives. I can’t tell you how impressed we all are at your heroics. I know for a fact that nobody wants any other security firm besides Heller’s to be on duty at future parties. Your boss is going to get a lot of work from us because of you.”
Farrell and I exchanged glances of trepidation. That wasn’t quite the positive news for us that they’d expected it to be. I tried to smile but failed miserably, so nodded instead. They soon took their leave after some more minutes of gushing praise. I never wanted to see either of them, nor any of their friends, again. And I especially did not want to do security for any more swingers’ parties. I hoped Heller and Clive remembered that when assigning people to any similar jobs.
I carefully opened the card that they’d given us and something fell out onto the bed. I picked it up and stared at the two small pieces of thin cardboard, before handing them to Farrell to look at. His expression probably echoed the one I’d had on my face just a second ago when I’d looked at them.
“Oh,” was all he managed to say, before handing them back to me. There was a small note inside the card as well.
Dear heroes
Thank you again for everything you did for us that night. We can never repay you for our lives of course, but I hope that we’ll see you both at another party in the near future – not as our security, but as our guests. We’ve enclosed a couple of tickets for you for the next party.
Hope to see you then.
Marty and Gabriela xx
“You can have them,” I offered, a blush creeping across my face. Fortunately it was still sufficiently red that he couldn’t tell.
“I was about to say the same thing to you. Take your boyfriend,” he responded. I shook my head fervently.
Heller entered my room, but he wasn’t alone. He had Vanessa in tow, clinging to his arm so tightly that he was struggling to move. She was beautiful in a form-fitting silky black cocktail gown, her makeup dramatically perfect. Her black hair was up in a glamorous chignon, exposing the flawless milky skin of her neck, shoulders and chest. I felt like an overripe tomato next to her – red, shiny and oozy. She swept disinterested eyes over Farrell and me, not bothering to acknowledge us in any other way. Her eyes then rested on Heller for the remainder of their visit. I repaid the favour by ignoring her presence.
I handed the note and tickets to Heller. He read the note and glanced at the tickets. “The pair of you going to a party like that together is never going to happen, so don’t even think about it,” he stated immediately, studying us both suspiciously.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Neither of us wants to go anyway. Why don’t you use them instead?” I suggested sweetly. “You’d be a big hit at a swingers’ party.”
He solved our dilemma by ripping the tickets up in front of us. “No temptations for anybody,” he declared, giving us both another doubtful look.
“We have to go now, Heller darling, or we’ll be late for dinner,” Vanessa insisted coldly, obviously bored with him giving another person some attention for a minute. He paid her no heed, spending another five minutes chatting to me. He asked me questions and checked over my chart (which I’m pretty sure is against all hospital protocol if not even actually illegal) before deciding that my progress was satisfactory.
“Thanks, Dr Heller,” I said, managing a small smile.
The expression on his face was tender. “I’ll see you soon, my sweet. Take it easy please. We all want you back home as soon as possible. I hate it when you’re in hospital,” he said, stroking my hair.
“So do I,” I whispered. And as he dropped a gentle kiss on the top of my head, Vanessa dropped me a venomous glare. Hmm, finally something about me that interested her.
“Enjoy your dinner,” I called after them in my still hoarse voice, showing my nice manners, but secretly wishing that Vanessa the Perfect Bitch would choke on a fish bone and die. Heller turned around to smile. Vanessa turned around to cast me a look of pure poison. Heller turned back again and frowned.
“Time for you to go, Farrell. Matilda needs her rest.”
“What’s her problem?” asked Farrell as they left and he prepared to leave himself, ever the dutiful drone.
“I think that’s actually her friendly side.”
That little movement of his mouth. “Watch out for her, Chalmers. She seems to hav
e taken a dislike to you.”
“God only knows why,” I shrugged. “But I was more concerned with what was Heller’s problem? He looked at us as though we spent the party night shagging each other senseless instead of nearly killing ourselves rescuing people from a fire.”
“Perhaps the reactions of both are connected?” he suggested mysteriously while heading for the door. “See you later. Back in the gym when you’re ready.”
“Yeah, yeah, hardarse.”
I thought about what he’d just said for a while, but couldn’t make any sense of it.
I barely had time to eat my awful hospital dinner before Daniel and Niq turned up for a visit, staying until they were chased out by one of the nurses. When they left, I gratefully settled down for another sleep, knowing I should be going home the following day.
Chapter 17
However, my check-up the next morning quickly scotched that hope. My voice had recovered somewhat, my eyes were fine again, the redness of my skin had abated to a soft pink, but my burns still needed regular and painful dressing changes. The doctor declared I’d be in hospital for yet another night – not news designed to cheer my spirits in the least.
So I was in a reasonably grumpy mood when two detectives walked into my room to interview me. How did I know they were detectives? I’d like to say it was my keen cop radar, but in fact they entered the room accompanied by my brother, Brian. It was a lot of big men for a small hospital room, but I was determined not to feel intimidated by their bulky presence. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Hello Brian,” I said, my mood improving a little. How nice of him to visit me.
“You look fucking terrible,” Brian said baldly, staring down at me. Pop! There went the tiny bubble of self-confidence I’d managed to inflate in the days I’d spent in hospital.
“Thanks for that,” I said sarcastically. “I’ve heard that the unvarnished truth significantly improves the recovery of an invalid. In fact, for your information, I happen to look a hell of a lot better than I did three days ago.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone in the family about what happened to you? I only heard about it from these guys.”
“I didn’t want anyone to worry. I thought I’d be out of here by now.”
“Mum and Dad would have wanted to visit.”
I sighed. “I know. I probably should have told them, but the doctor said I could go home tomorrow so I’m not going to bother now. It’s better sometimes if they don’t know what I get up to at work.”
One of the other men cleared his throat. Brian turned around. “Oh yeah. Tilly, these are Detective Gupta and Detective Thomas. They’re investigating the fire at the house of Marty and Gabriela Scholler. You up to talking to them?” The cool looks the detectives slid my way let me know that whether I was up to it or not, I’d be chatting to them today.
“Why are you investigating? The fire was accidental, surely?”
“Have to investigate all accidental deaths, Tilly. Do you mind if we call you Tilly?” asked Gupta, his insincere smile bright. I shrugged, not really caring what they called me. “Just want to square everything away for the coroner. There will be an inquest of course. But at this stage it looks like an out-and-out accident. Tragic, but what the hell do you expect when you have hundreds of candles, a bunch of drunk people and a hot, strong wind? Fatal combination.”
I nodded in complete agreement.
“Tell us what happened from when you arrived there with your partner. What was his name?” He rifled through his notebook. “Ferrell? Oh yeah, Farrell. We’ve already interviewed him. We understand you were there as security.” I nodded again. He looked me up and down. “You don’t look like a security officer.”
“Well, I am. Fully licenced and registered,” I snapped back.
They wanted some proof of that, so with difficulty I leaned over to fetch my staff card out of my handbag that someone had stowed in my bedside locker. It had my registration number and a hideous mugshot of me on it. Gupta wrote the details down in his notebook. I had no doubt they’d be confirming that piece of information with the relevant authorities.
“Not everyone wants a big man-mountain looking after them,” I informed them. “I do a lot of work acting as a companion to the wives of visiting businessmen in the city for wheeling and dealing. They wanted a female security officer at the party because half the guests were going to be women. The host thought that would make them more comfortable than with two big blokes on duty. And he was right.”
“Take us through the night.”
And so I did, step by step. All three men smirked when I told them about the piss patrol.
I complained. “It wasn’t funny. It was horrible.”
I leaned back in my bed, closed my eyes and relived each minute of the fire. I tried my hardest to describe in proper detail the explosion and the people Farrell and I had rescued in the order that we’d rescued them. I was exhausted by the end, rubbing my eyes in fatigue, my throat raspy.
The three men were silent when I finished. Brian spoke first, exploding with anger, lecturing me in a hectoring tone about how dangerous it was to head back into a burning building . . . blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening after the first, “you’re an idiot because . . .”
“I know that, Brian!” I shouted back at him as loudly as I could currently manage when he stopped for a breath. “But what could I do? Just let those people die? It was our job to look after them. Two people did die that night because Farrell and I didn’t get them out. What do you think it’s like to live with that constantly in your mind?”
And to my shame, I started crying in front of them. I covered my eyes with my bandaged palm and turned my head to one side, trying to sob quietly. I wished they’d just go away. I’d given them my statement. I had nothing else to say to any of them and I was so tired.
A hand landed awkwardly on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tilly. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know you’ve been through a lot. You’re a real hero and I’m proud of you,” Brian said stiffly.
I turned my face to him and wiped my eyes on my bandages. “Thanks, Brian. That means a lot to me,” I whispered, my throat raw again from the shouting. He kissed me on the top of my head. The other detectives stood up, embarrassed to be witnesses to a family squabble.
“We’ll let you know if we need any further information,” Detective Thomas mumbled.
Heller chose that inauspicious moment to make an entrance. He stopped at the door and looked from face to face distrustfully, taking in my tear-stained face first and last.
“What’s going on here?” he asked the men with open hostility. Brian automatically bristled, his normal first reaction to any encounter with Heller. They weren’t friendly with each other, to say the least.
“Nothing,” the four of us said in unison, and the three men continued towards the door.
“I’m still waiting for that dinner invitation, Brian,” I whispered at him.
“Sure Tilly, I’ll remind Gayle. She said she was going to organise something,” he promised and then followed the others out the door.
“Bullshit,” I whispered to myself sadly. If left to Gayle, I’d never see my two nieces again.
“What was going on, Matilda?” demanded Heller, sitting down next to me.
“They were just detectives taking my statement, that’s all. They’re investigating the fire for the coroner’s inquest. Brian was only visiting. He’s not involved with the investigation.”
“Then why these?” He gently wiped a finger under one of my eyes, scooping up some tears.
“I’m just emotional at the moment. You know, going over it all again.”
He didn’t believe me. “And?”
I sighed. “And Brian was angry about me risking my life. He yelled at me.”
“So now is not the time for me to do the same?” he smiled.
I smiled back reluctantly and sniffed. “No, definitely not.”
“I’ve come to take you home. Why
are you still in bed? I thought you were coming home today.”
“No, the doctor said not until tomorrow now.” I held up my palms and nodded towards the covered burns on my forearms. “These haven’t healed enough yet for me to be released. I’m stuck here one more night at least.”
His face fell. “That’s a shame. I made sure I had no engagements tonight, but I’m busy tomorrow night. I really wanted to spend some time with you. We never do that any more.”
I tested my emotions at his statement and told myself defiantly that I couldn’t care less if we didn’t any time together. Even if he did make himself free for me one night, he’d probably spend the entire time talking about Vanessa. So I remained silent.
“What’s wrong, Matilda? Are you still angry with me because I didn’t ring you that night?”
“No.” Although I was.
“Then what?”
“I don’t know what you mean. There’s nothing wrong.” I tried to avoid eye contact, remembering what both he and Farrell had said about my readable face.
“I think everything is wrong to you and you’re not being honest with me.”
Speaking of everything being wrong, I plucked up the courage to ask something I’d been mulling over. “Did you let Will know what happened to me?”
“I rang, but he didn’t answer. I left him a message. That was when you were admitted.” His blue eyes searched my face. “Has he contacted you?”
“No,” I admitted in a small voice. “Did you tell Dixie?”
“She said she would visit. Hasn’t she?”
I shook my head, miserable. Nobody loved me any more. I would have fallen into a deep pity party if Daniel and Niq hadn’t turned up right then. And by the time Heller left, my two wonderful boys, who did love me, even had me laughing again.