Page 68 of The Fall-Out

‘Still though,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t feel right. It feels like you’ve been lying to me, all this time.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake. Naomi, stop raking over the bloody past. It’s done now. What matters is— Is that your phone ringing?’

‘My – shit.’ I bent over to retrieve my bag from the floor, banging my head on the table on the way back up. My eyes watering, I fumbled through it until I found my phone.

‘It’s your mother. God, I hope the kids are—’ I swiped to answer the call. ‘Bridget? Hi. Is everything all right?’

For a moment, I thought the call had failed – all I could hear was a high-pitched electronic wailing.

Then I heard my mother-in-law’s voice, sounding panicked and shaky and suddenly very old. ‘Naomi? The smoke alarm’s going off and I can’t make it stop.’

TWENTY-FIVE

Patch leaped to his feet, signalling to the waitress and pulling a few twenty-pound notes from his wallet. ‘Do you know if they include service? I don’t want to stiff our poor waitress.’

‘Let’s just leave extra and get back,’ I urged.

I was already standing up, my coat on and my bag over my shoulder. My phone was still pressed to my ear. ‘Don’t worry, Bridget. We’ll be there in five minutes, tops, okay? Are the kids all right?’

But I couldn’t hear her answer over the wailing of the alarm in the background and the buzz of voices around me in the restaurant.

‘Right, sorted.’ Patch headed for the door and I followed him, weaving my way between the crowded benches, feeling as if I was in one of those nightmares where, no matter how quickly you move, you can’t seem to reach your destination.

As soon as we turned the corner into our road, we heard the alarm, its shriek cutting through the still darkness. Patch increased his pace and I jogged to keep up, my mind filling with horrors. The top floor of the house on fire and the children trapped in their bedroom. The fire service turning up, flames silhouetting Toby and Meredith perched on the windowsill and me standing helplessly below exhorting them to Jump, jump! Fire engulfing the loft where all the kids’ baby clothes, our Christmas decorations and my wedding dress were stored.

Ahead of me, I could see our open front door, smoke hovering in the amber light of the street lamp above. Its colour reminded me of flames. As we drew nearer, I could see Bridget standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her. Above the din of the alarm, I could hear Toby crying and Meredith screaming, ‘Mummy! Mummy!’

The neighbours’ upstairs windows were open and pale, anxious faces peered out.

Patch reached the house ahead of me. He put a hand on his mother’s shoulder for the briefest second before nudging her out of the way and entering the house. I imagined him dashing up the stairs, taking them two at a time, reaching the first floor and finding – what?

‘What happened?’ I gasped, squatting down in the doorway and pulling the twins close against my body, hearing Meredith’s screams turn to sobs, feeling Toby’s tears hot and wet against my face. ‘It’s okay, darlings. Mummy and Daddy are here. It’s going to be all right.’

‘The lasagne.’ Bridget dropped to her knees next to me, clutching the door frame for support. ‘I left it in the oven like you said, but I was watching television and I didn’t hear the timer thing. Then when I remembered and opened the oven there was smoke everywhere and the alarm went off and I couldn’t make it stop.’

Thank God. There had been no fire – just a minor domestic crisis and the alarm doing its job.

‘It’s okay, Bridget. Deep breaths.’

I could see she was trembling and beginning to cry. ‘I’m so sorry, Naomi. What was I thinking?’

Abruptly, the alarm stopped. From the kitchen, I heard the roar of the extractor fan start up.

Patch emerged, a wooden spoon in his hand. ‘Those sensors are too high for Mum to have reached,’ he said, ‘even if we’d shown her the old kitchen utensil hack. I’ve opened the back door and the windows upstairs – the smoke should clear in a few minutes. Let’s all get inside, shall we?’

‘See?’ I told the children. ‘Everything’s okay. Look at that horrid burnt dinner, though. Poor Granny must be starving. Would you like some toast, Bridget? And a cup of sweet tea?’

‘There was smoke everywhere,’ Toby said, his eyes wide.

‘And then the alarm woke me up.’ Meredith pressed herself against me. I could feel her small body shivering through her Peppa Pig pyjamas. ‘I thought it was Daddy getting up for work but it wouldn’t stop. And then I started coughing and coughing.’

‘I don’t know why I didn’t notice earlier,’ Bridget said, clasping her hands together and squeezing them like she was doing a Covid-era hand-sanitising routine. ‘I must have been miles away. And I was responsible for Patrick and Niamh.’

My eyes met Patch’s over Bridget’s head and the flash of panic in his face made me realise how desperately he’d been trying not to confront the knowledge that things with his mother weren’t right.

‘Mummy.’ Toby pulled at my hand, and tugged again when I didn’t respond straight away. ‘Mummy?’

‘What is it, darling?’

---