Chapter 19
Jenni was asleep, wrapped in the floral duvet that Alex had always hated – he preferred plain white Egyptian cotton – dreaming peacefully, when the phone rang.
The shrill noise jerked her awake and she fumbled to reach it, dislodging Oscar – who, for once, wasn’t out on the prowl – from his comfortable position in the crook of her legs.
Stretching his back into a perfect arch, he shook himself and jumped lightly from the bed, the hollow sound of the cat flap banging shut seconds later.
It took Jenni a few seconds to focus on the name glowing on the screen: Amy. Hurriedly, she swiped to answer.
‘Amy. What’s happened? Are you okay?’
But Amy was already talking frantically. Jenni caught the words ‘Fire’ and her heart jolted.
‘Amy, start again. What’s happened?’
Jenni heard her take a gulp, trying to regulate her breathing.
‘The fairy lights caught fire. The ones we put above Tilly’s cot—’
‘Oh my God, Amy, is she… are you—’
‘We’re fine. We’re all fine, but can you come over? I’m on my own with the kids and the fire brigade are here. Simon is away and…’
Amy broke off, sounding tearful and Jenni heard her whisper . ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, Mummy’s okay, I’m just talking to Auntie Jenni.’
‘I’ll get a Uber and be with you as soon as I can. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.’
Hands shaking, Jenni opened the app, ordered a taxi, and had just enough time to pull on some clothes in the minutes it took for the car to get to her. Once in and on her way, she texted Amy and fifteen minutes later she was pulling up outside her house.
Even though Amy had said they were all fine, Jenni felt a clutch of fear when she saw the fire engine parked outside, blue lights flashing, uniformed officers moving purposefully in and out of the front door.
There were no signs of smoke or flames, much to Jenni’s relief, and, thanking the driver, Jenni clambered out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her.
‘Oh my God, are you okay?’ Jenni said, finding Amy sitting shivering on the next door neighbour’s wall and hugging her. She could feel her shaking.
Amy, in Ugg boots with a coat over her pyjamas, nodded.
‘Yes, we’re all fine. It was such a shock, though. The alarm went off and I didn’t know what to do, if I should have tried to put it out, or what. Simon is away so both the kids were in with me, thank goodness, otherwise I can’t bear to think about what might have happened—’ Amy’s voice broke.
‘But they were with you and you are all okay,’ Jenni said soothingly, giving her friend’s hand a squeeze. ‘Where are they now?’
‘Next door with my neighbour, Abbey. I’m waiting to speak to one of the firefighters.
They’ve been really good – they’re sure it was the fairy lights.
It’s quite common apparently, the wire gets twisted or something and they can ignite.
There’s some smoke damage, so we’re going to stay with Simon’s mum. He’s going to meet us there.’
Amy took a breath and stepped back to let a firefighter pass, who was carrying bits of equipment back to the engine. Another came over to them.
‘We’re heading off now,’ he said, removing his helmet and running a hand through his curly hair.
An unusual shade of blond, thought Jenni. She was sure that colour had a particular name, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember.
‘Are you okay?’ the firefighter asked Amy. ‘I heard you say your husband is on his way back home?’
Amy nodded. ‘Yes, we’re fine. Thank you. My friend’s here now.’
The firefighter looked over at Jenni and nodded. ‘Great, good you’re here.’
‘No problem, good to be here. Well, not good, obviously, everyone might have burnt to death, but they didn’t so, um, well, yes. I’m here.’ Jenni finished, flustered.
The firefighter smiled awkwardly in return, turning back to Amy. ‘Have you got somewhere to stay?’
As Amy replied, Jenni felt confused.
What on earth was that about? She knew plenty of men with broad shoulders and nice blue eyes, well, eyes at least, and she didn’t normally have a problem stringing a sentence together.
I must be in shock, she thought. Yes, that’s it. Nothing to do with his tousled good looks at all.
Distracted by her thoughts, she tuned back in to hear Amy saying, ‘I’ll get the kids and go to my mother-in-law’s for now. Am I okay to go in and grab some bits?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he replied. ‘It’s upsetting, I know, but it’s all secure in there now.’
He nodded again to Jenni before joining his colleagues who were climbing into the engine.
Jenni and Amy watched the vehicle pull away and drive carefully down the street.
‘George is loving this,’ said Amy with a shaky smile. She pointed next door where George was looking out of Abbey’s sitting-room window, waving as the engine went past.
‘He was so excited when they turned up – he loves the blue flashing lights. I’d promised I’d take him to see a fire engine – this isn’t quite what I had in mind though.’
Jenni gave her friend a sympathetic smile as Amy turned to look at her.
‘And don’t think I didn’t notice that weird thing you said either. Flustered by the sight of the fit fireman, much?’ asked Amy with a beady gleam in her eye.
‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ said Jenni. ‘You must be in shock.’
Amy gave an annoyingly knowing smile. ‘Hmm. Maybe.’
‘Come on then, let’s go. What do you need?’ Jenni changed the subject and was relieved when Amy led the way into the house, heading to the kitchen first and filling a bag with beakers, bottles and biscuits for Tilly and George.
‘Can you get some clothes for the kids?’ Amy asked Jenni. ‘I’ll grab some stuff for me and Simon from the laundry pile.’
‘Of course.’
Jenni grabbed a carrier bag from the kitchen and headed up the stairs towards their bedroom.
The smell of smoke was stronger up here, but other than the dark smudges of soot on the primrose yellow wall above the cot, the room seemed remarkably intact.
Thank goodness the alarm had sounded, thought Jenni with a shudder. And that the kids hadn’t been in their own beds.
As the reality of what could have happened sunk in, Jenni felt anxious to get out of the small room.
She pulled open the wardrobe door and tipped a pile of Tilly’s clothes from the top shelf into the bag, then did the same with a pile of George’s on the next shelf.
Amy would have to give them all a wash to get rid of the smell of smoke, but at least they’d have enough clothes for a few days.
Carrying the bags – why did children need so much stuff? – they went next door where Tilly and George were glued to CBeebies. Abbey made them a cup of tea, while Amy rang Simon again and booked a cab to take them to his mother’s house.
Jenni’s head was beginning to pound now from lack of sleep. Perhaps she could have a quick power nap before going in to work.
As she took a sip of tea and waited for Amy to finish her call, her thoughts wandered back to her earlier encounter with the good-looking firefighter: strawberry blond – that was the colour of his hair.
‘I can’t believe it. Poor Amy,’ Tim said again, stuffing the last bit of chicken sandwich in his mouth. They were having lunch in the staff kitchen and Jenni was grateful to see that Clive had updated the décor. Thank goodness all the photos of her had now been replaced.
Jenni, stealing a crisp, agreed. The whole thing had knocked Amy for six.
‘She says she won’t go home until all traces of the fire have gone.
I can tell she’s haunted by the thought of what might have happened if the kids hadn’t been in with her.
It was only because Simon was away and she’d promised them they could have a sleepover with her… ’
‘When’s the house going to be ready?’
‘Their landlord is going to get it repainted this week and Simon’s taking some time off so he can get it put back to normal. His mum’s going to have the kids this Saturday while Amy’s helping me at the fair, and Simon’s promised it will be ready when she’s finished.’
‘That’s good,’ Tim said, slapping Jenni’s hand away as she reached for another of his crisps.
‘Ow!’
‘Get your own, madam. I’d forgotten you had the fair this weekend – are you ready?’
Jenni, rubbing her hand, pulled a face. ‘Sort of,’ she replied, not looking Tim in the eye.
Tim sighed. ‘So that’s a no!’
‘I’m nervous that no one’s going to actually buy anything. I just need a few finishing touches, like a tablecloth, and I thought a little bunch of flowers would look nice.’
Jenni had spent the previous evening sorting through her stock, refolding everything, again, according to Marie Kondo’s strict instructions, even the socks – thank you, YouTube – and had packed it all carefully into a crate so she could carry it down to the Green where the fair was being held.
Inspired by the way the sleepsuits and T-shirts had looked drying in the shed, she’d bought a couple of poles, some old-fashioned wooden pegs and a length of washing line so she could hang some of them up, hopefully creating an eye-catching display.
Everything else would be laid out flat. Nick and Jo next door were going to carry the table down for her, and her card reader had arrived.
She was good to go.
She just had to stop imagining herself standing alone, her carefully created wares untouched while the surrounding stalls thronged with punters eager to purchase more interesting gifts.
Jenni shook her head to clear it of negative thoughts and reminded herself she was at least doing something creative. If nothing else, she could get to the end of the year and know that she had tried.
She became aware that Tim had been talking and had now stopped, a question mark hanging in the air. He was obviously waiting for her answer.
‘Um. Yeeesss?’ she replied cautiously, not entirely sure if this was an appropriate response to whatever Tim had been saying.
Her caution turned to alarm when he shrieked with joy.
‘Yes!’ He punched the air. ‘I know you always say you’re useless at quizzes, but we’ll have the best time. It’s not until next month, so you’ve got plenty of time to revise. We don’t want another incident like last time.’
Oh God. Too late, Jenni realised she’d agree to go to Tim’s local pub quiz. Tim spoke of it as if it was a light-hearted fun-filled evening, but having been once before, Jenni knew the very opposite was true.
Tim’s teammates – the Petit Fours, named for a reason known only to themselves – were hideously competitive and things had got nasty when Jenni had incorrectly identified a Fleetwood Mac album cover. She still had flashbacks when she heard Rumours playing.
Hoping she could come up with an excuse nearer the time, she asked Tim how he was getting on with his new health regime.
Deciding they’d overindulged on their honeymoon, Tim and Paul had taken up Nordic walking.
Jenni was just grateful that she lived in a different part of London – she wasn’t sure she could cope with bumping into Tim and his husband, striding through the park brandishing their ski poles.
Tim had explained how it was much more complicated than it looked and was most definitely not just ‘walking with sticks’, as Jenni dismissively seemed to think. Apparently, all the East End hipsters were at it, although Jenni was yet to be convinced.
As was usual when Tim got into a new hobby, he was very keen on purchasing all the kit, so he and Paul had spent hundreds of pounds on special gloves and the lightest, most aerodynamic poles.
He’d even convinced Clive that there was a gap in the market and R&D were currently working on a bespoke walking range.
‘We usually go out on Saturday morning, so I have just had the best idea,’ said Tim excitedly.
‘How about you stay over after the quiz night and then you can come with us? Nothing like striding through Victoria Park at seven-thirty to get the blood flowing. And before you say anything,’ he began, seeing Jenni’s look of horror, ‘no, it’s not just for old people, I’ll have you know.
Only Janice has a free bus pass, the rest of us are very sprightly.
And besides, you could do with some exercise after a month on your arse. ’
‘Excuse me, I had an injured leg,’ said Jenni indignantly. ‘And you’re making me sound like I need winching from the sofa by the emergency services. I go for a walk every morning, thank you very much.’
Tim looked at her questioningly. ‘Do you now?’
‘Well, not quite every morning currently, sort of once a week, maybe. But I’m still very mobile, I’ll have you know.’
Jenni stood up energetically to demonstrate just how active she was, scooped up the rubbish, including Tim’s crisp packet, neatly folded into the psychopathic triangle as per usual, and deposited it in the bin.
Tim got up too, brushing the crumbs from his Uniqlo merino wool knit. He turned to Jenni.
‘I’m just saying, love, Janice is seventy-two and she could walk you out of the park.’
Before she could reply, Tim strode briskly out of the kitchen and Jenni hurriedly followed him, breaking into a skip-run to catch up.
‘See?’ Tim said, as she drew up breathlessly beside him. ‘Proving my point.’