The Street of Broken Dreams

by Tania Crosse

  Zac sat in the chair, his eyes wandering about the room as he wondered how to make the most of the situation. He could turn on the wireless, but that might wake Cissie up, so he didn’t want to do that. Everything was neat and tidy. He’d scrubbed the saucepans until they gleamed only the night before, and he’d already cleaned out the kitchen cupboard that morning. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Even he could see that.

  What, then? He drummed his fingers on the table. Aha. There was the book Jake had got him from the library. He wasn’t all that good at reading. Cissie liked books. She’d read a story called Jane Eyre once. She’d told him what it was all about. It sounded really good, so he tried to read it himself. But the words were so hard to work out that it didn’t make any sense to him.

  Jake liked reading, too, and he’d suggested Zac try an adventure story that might be easier to read. He knew an author who wrote such books for older children that Zac might like and got one out of the library for him. Jake was right! Zac found he could read it without any problem, and it was a super story. He couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next to his new friends!

  A couple of chapters, though, was as much as he could cope with in one go. So he meticulously placed the bookmark at the open page and closed the book. Hmm, now what?

  Ah, yes. Cissie would probably be awake soon and she’d be hungry. He could cook her some bacon. He’d never cooked it before, but if he could be trusted to keep an eye on the baby, surely he could cook some bacon? He’d seen his mum do it hundreds of times.

  First you had to melt some fat in the frying pan. He carefully lit one of the gas rings, blowing out the match and setting it to one side to cool completely before he put it in the bin. Next he got the fat bowl from the cool cupboard. Now, how much? Better too much than too little. So he scooped all of it from the bowl, leaving just some jelly-like stuff at the bottom.

  Right. The mound of fat in the pan would take some time to melt, so he turned up the gas underneath and returned from the scullery into the kitchen. He’d just read another page or two while he was waiting.

  Oh, this was exciting! They’d just gone down to the seaside and were going into a cave that they were sure smugglers were using. The further they went in, the narrower and darker it got, but fortunately they’d remembered to bring a torch. One of the girls was really scared, but the boys told her it’d be OK. The smugglers wouldn’t be there in the daytime. But then the torch began to fade. The battery must be running out. But they’d just go on a bit further. Suddenly, their dog’s hackles began to rise. What were hackles? Never mind. Then the dog growled softly. Was someone there after all? Zac simply had to know! And he read on.

  It wasn’t until a crackling, hissing sound reached his ears that Zac lifted his head from the book. He sniffed the air. That didn’t smell right. Oh, the fat must be melted enough by now. He’d better put the bacon in.

  He opened the door to the scullery. Hot fat was spitting out of the pan and some of it was catching fire in the gas jet. Smoke hovered over the cooker, and flames were dancing all about the frying pan. Even as Zac gazed on, rigid with shock, the fat inside it flared up in an arc of orange and yellow and red.

  Zac’s jaw dangled open. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It never did when Mum was cooking. He needed to do something about it. He’d have to clean the pan again before Mum and Dad got back. It was all black and sooty now. But first he had to stop the flames. You put fires out with water, didn’t you? On the Pathé News at the pictures, he’d seen films of firemen in the Blitz squirting water from hoses over burning buildings. That must be what he needed to do. So he filled a jug with water from the scullery sink. And tipped it over the burning pan.

  The explosion made him fall back so forcefully that he crashed through the door to the kitchen and landed on the floor. His eyes widened in horror at the fireball that was engulfing the scullery. Scarlet, glowing sparks were raining down on the quarry tiled floor. Some newspapers by the back door waiting to be torn up into squares for use as toilet paper smouldered and began to ignite. Flames were licking about, up the walls. His mum’s tea towel and oven gloves were smoking, tiny flames beginning to sparkle. While Zac lay stunned on the kitchen floor, another blinding flash dazzled him, and when he opened his eyes again, the whole scullery was ablaze, and the paint on the open door near his feet was starting to bubble and scorch.

  Zac’s senses suddenly snapped back into action and he scrambled backwards, screaming for his sister.

  *

  Cissie was on stage, dancing, wrapped in that euphoria that rocked her only when she was performing, the music, the lights, the costumes. Sean was smiling at her as she executed a series of posé and pas de bourrée turns diagonally across the stage towards him, ending in a pirouette into fifth arabesque, supported in his hold about her waist. She gazed up at him, triumph gleaming in her eyes. But the smile had gone from his face. He was staring at her, his eyes stretched as wide as saucers, shouting, yelling…

  She realised someone was shaking her so hard that her head was wobbling on the pillow. She blinked herself awake. Zac was screaming incoherently at her, obviously terrified out of his wits. What on earth—?

  It was then that she smelt it, an acrid whiff wafting into her nostrils. Her brain clicked into focus. Something was wrong. And then through the open door behind her brother, she saw a pale, grey mist drifting along the hallway. Dear God. Smoke!

  She leapt out of bed. Grabbed her dressing gown but didn’t stop to put it on. No time to think. She grabbed Zac’s arm and dragged him back out into the hallway. In those few seconds, the smoke had increased and was pouring from the kitchen, and she could see flickering flames of incandescent orange darting about the table and sideboard. She slammed the door shut. Her action caused a puff of dense smoke to billow into her face, making her cough and wheeze, but then it seemed to be holding it back a little. Cissie grasped Zac’s arm again and pulled him out into the street.

  Oblivious to the rain, she drew an enormous breath into her lungs, making her throat burn. And then she screamed with every ounce of her strength. Like she’d never screamed before. ‘Help! Help! Fire! Fire!’

  She’d never yelled like it. Her lungs hurt and she thought they’d burst. But she kept on yelling. Someone must come soon!

  And then she saw Jake dash out of his house and fly towards her.

  ‘I saw smoke and flames from our back yard,’ he shouted, skidding to a halt beside her.

  ‘Yes. There’s fire at the back,’ she squealed. ‘I don’t know what happened. I was asleep in the front.’

  ‘Dad, call for the fire brigade!’ Jake yelled over his shoulder at Stan, who was scurrying up behind him. And then, his face working frantically, he demanded, ‘Is anyone inside?’

  Cissie was so stunned, she stared at him blankly and so he shook her hard. It instantly brought her back to her senses. ‘N-no. Mum will have taken Jane to Mass with her, and Dad always goes for a newspaper—’

  ‘Oh, thank God—’

  ‘N-no,’ Zac put in urgently. ‘Dad went to Mass with Mum and they left Jane asleep upstairs.’

  ‘What!’

  Cissie and Jake met each other’s horrified gaze. Panic cut through Cissie’s heart. Jane! Her daughter.

  ‘Dad, get an ambulance, too!’ Jake screeched down the street after Stan, who waved his arm as he skidded round the corner towards the telephone box.

  ‘Which room?’ Jake demanded.

  ‘Front bedroom. In her cot.’

  Oh, God, what was Jake doing? He was racing back to his own house. No! You can’t abandon me now! Cissie was jumping up and down on the pavement. She had to save her child! And she sprang blindly towards the front door.

  A hand was at once on her arm, pulling her back. Jake was by her side again, wrapping a soaking, dripping towel about his head and face to form a mask, a second towel in his hands.

  ‘Zac, d’you know what happened?’ he growled so fiercely that Zac was jolted into a sensibl
e reply.

  ‘I-I was frying bacon—’ he stammered.

  ‘Is the gas still on?’

  ‘Y-yes, I—’

  ‘Damn,’ Cissie caught Jake swearing under his breath. And then he disappeared inside, swallowed up in the black, demonic smoke.

  Cissie’s knees were buckling beneath her. Her child, and the man she loved. Oh, dear God, what if…

  Her mind was frozen. The rain was coming down hard now, dripping down her face, her long hair wild and plastered to her head, her nightdress so drenched it was transparent as it clung to her fragile frame.

  ‘There, luvvie, let’s get this dressing gown on you,’ Eva said beside her now, and she made no movement as the older woman slipped the garment about her shoulders.

  They stood there together in the rain, gazing at the burning house. Every nerve screwed in anguish. For both had a child inside.

  It seemed an eternity but was perhaps scarcely more than a minute before a shadow took shape low down in the smoke that was now gushing from the front door. The figure of a man, his head swathed, crawled out of the now blackened door frame. He held a bundle up towards Cissie’s waiting arms, a bundle that was wrapped in a wet towel. As soon as she’d taken it, Jake rolled onto his side on the pavement, coughing and spluttering and gasping for breath.

  Clanking of bells, then. Chaos. Fire engine. Men in uniform, shouting. Shut off the gas. Run out hoses that wriggled and sprang to life. Spurting water, hiss of steam. More bells. A white van. Man in white coat.

  He took the bundle from Cissie’s arms and ran with it to the ambulance.

  *

  ‘Oh, Jake, I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Really I can’t.’

  Cissie was sitting by Jake’s bed in the charity hospital. Rain was still clattering down outside, making up for the Indian summer at the start of the month.

  ‘It’s all anyone would’ve done,’ Jake said modestly. ‘And I had a bit of training behind me, so I knew what to do. If I hadn’t, I might’ve inhaled a lot more smoke. But, as it is, they’re going to discharge me tomorrow. Just as well. Two nights in hospital’s about as much as I could stand.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good news. About being discharged, I mean.’

  But Jake merely shrugged. ‘Far more importantly, how’s Jane? I hardly dare ask, but is she going to be all right?’

  He was utterly relieved when Cissie nodded. ‘Thanks to you, yes. They’re going to keep her in maybe a week or so, just to be sure. It could leave her with a bit of a weak chest, but Mum’ll know how to keep an eye on her. It might’ve been very different if you hadn’t got to her so quickly. Or if she’d been in the back room above the fire.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Jake gave a jerky, rueful nod. ‘And is the house very badly damaged?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘Well, not as badly as it might’ve been,’ Cissie answered with a sigh. ‘It was mainly confined to the kitchen and scullery. The ceilings in there partly collapsed and some of the joists were charred and’ll need replacing. But the rest of the house is mainly smoke damage. I mean, all the walls will need stripping back and repapering, maybe replastering in places. And all the paintwork will need redoing. Well, replaced here and there as well. Just as well the landlord never got round to repainting the place like we asked. He’s hardly too pleased, as you might imagine.’

  ‘Did he have the place insured?’

  ‘Fortunately, yes. He’s even said we can move back in when it’s all done. But only if we promise faithfully never to leave Zac unsupervised again.’

  ‘Well, that’s understandable.’

  ‘Yes, but it was good of him to accept that it was an accident and that Zac wasn’t really to blame. Oh, that reminds me,’ Cissie said, reaching into her handbag and withdrawing a folded piece of paper. ‘Zac made a get well card for you.’

  ‘Oh, that was kind of him,’ Jake smiled, taking the makeshift card and looking down at it. ‘Not a bad drawing. Do thank him for me, won’t you? But tell me, where are you all living now? I mean, the house will be uninhabitable for a while.’

  ‘Oh, your mum’s come to the rescue there, as you might imagine.’ Cissie gave a chuckle. ‘I’m sharing with Primrose in the back bedroom at your house, sleeping in Mildred’s bed now she’s no longer there. And…’ She hesitated, pulling a grimace. ‘I’m afraid Zac’s on a mattress on the floor in your room.’

  To her relief, Jake merely shrugged. ‘That’s OK. We’ve all got to pull together when things go wrong. And what about your mum and dad?’

  ‘They’re with Mrs Hayes across the street. She’s got a front parlour she doesn’t use much. It’s a bit awkward for Dad, having to go up steps to the front door. And the lav’s in the semi-basement. Indoors, mind. But at least Dad’s sleeping on a sofa, but poor Mum’s having to manage on an eiderdown on the floor. So we’re just hoping the house gets repaired as soon as possible.’

  ‘Well, I can help at weekends. Not the structural stuff. You need a proper builder for that. But I could lend a hand with the redecoration.’

  Cissie felt the familiar pull on her heart again. Jake was such a good young man. ‘That’s really kind. Your dad’s offered, too. We might well take you both up on it, but it depends on the landlord and the insurers, of course. And your mum’s been terrific. She’s been helping Mum wash all our clothes and bed linen and everything in her kitchen to try and get rid of the smell of smoke. My gramophone and records survived, thank goodness. And, fortunately, Mum had put that money from Saul Williams I told you about in her bedroom, so that was OK. But a lot of our other things are beyond it. But Eva’s so generous, she’s said she’ll buy us anything we can’t afford. We’ll pay her back in time, of course, but she says there’s no need. She said the money came from our house in the first place, so it’s only right it goes back there. I really don’t know what she meant, but we’re ever so grateful.’

  ‘Ah.’ Jake nodded wisely. ‘I know what she means. The older couple who lived there before you and that Mum took care of, they left her a small legacy. They had no family, you see.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I remember now. She said the china and things left at the house had belonged to them. Good-quality stuff it was. All lost now, of course. But she didn’t mention a legacy. Really deserves it, though. I think she’s amazing.’

  ‘So do we all. Even if she can’t cook!’ Jake laughed now. ‘Maybe I’ll try and stay in here a few extra days after all. The food’s much better than at home!’

  Cissie was glad to have something to smile at. The fire could have been a lot worse. An awful lot worse. She couldn’t get out of her head what might have happened.

  ‘I’d better go and see Jane now,’ she said. ‘It’s only due to you that’s she’s still alive.’

  ‘Tell you what, though. It’s made me realise that perhaps I’m better off at the bank in the long run. I was damned scared going in there, knowing the gas was still on.’

  Cissie’s heart turned a cartwheel at the memory. ‘And I was pretty scared watching you go in. It made me realise what Jane means to me.’ She lowered her eyes, dropping her voice and reaching out to take Jake’s hand. ‘And how much you mean to me.’

  She watched as his fingers closed about hers. They looked so right together. But…

  ‘It doesn’t change anything, though,’ she croaked. ‘I still don’t think I could ever—’

  ‘Then I’ll wait.’

  ‘You could be waiting a long time.’

  ‘I’m a patient man.’

  Cissie lifted her head, felt his smile twist the knife in her side. She swallowed.

  ‘I’ll see you back home tomorrow, then. It’ll be nice living under the same roof for a while.’

  She returned his smile, then got to her feet and walked down the ward and out through the doors. She wished the fire had changed things, but it hadn’t. The bitter agony, the fear, would never leave her.

  ‘Cissie!’

  She was so engrossed in her own painful world that she hadn’t noticed Mildred com
ing towards her along the corridor.

  ‘Hello, Mildred!’ she answered, her mood brightening at seeing her friend. ‘You come to see your hero of a brother?’

  ‘Not half. Bloody hell, what a to-do!’ But then Mildred tipped her head, fixing an enquiring gaze on Cissie’s face. Hero, eh? Did that mean Cissie and Jake might get close now? But she felt it wiser to keep that thought to herself.

  ‘Certainly is,’ Cissie agreed. ‘I don’t know how I’d have felt if anything had happened to Jane. Or to Jake.’ She felt the sharp pain in her chest again and forced it aside. ‘And how about you?’ she asked quickly, wanting to change the subject. ‘How’s married life treating you?’

  Mildred puffed out her cheeks. ‘Oh, Gary and me, we’ll be OK. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but we’re rubbing along fine. He’s got a job interview on Thursday. Not much of a job, but it’ll boost his confidence. And it’ll mean we can move somewhere better. Mum says she’ll help out when she’s sold that jewellery, but we’d rather be independent. So I really hope Gary gets the job, for his own sake if nothing else.’

  ‘Oh, so do I, then.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  ‘And… Oscar? Have you heard from him?’

  Cissie saw Mildred’s face fall. ‘Nah. Keep me eyes peeled for him, mind. If Gary gets this job, when he’s at work and I’m not on shift, I’ll go round Chelsea, just in case I bump into Oscar. Or maybe Georgie. Don’t suppose I’ll ever see either of them again, though. Still, I got Gary, ain’t I?’ She couldn’t disguise the sadness in her voice, even though her face was smiling.

  Cissie gave a tiny nod. ‘Yes. The war has a lot to answer for, doesn’t it? I mean, beyond all the obvious. You wouldn’t have married Gary if he hadn’t been hurt. Probably wouldn’t have got engaged to him in the first place if he hadn’t been going off to war. And I wouldn’t have been… Well, without the war, a certain Yankee soldier wouldn’t have been where he was. There must be so many people whose lives will never be the same again.’