Page 39 of A Slow Fire Burning

“Oh, yes!” Miriam looked relieved to have something to do. Sheresumed tea-making duties, only to quickly discover that she had no sugar (Laura took two and a half spoons), so she said she’d nip along to the café on the towpath to borrow some.

Laura slipped off the bench and started, once more, to inspect Miriam’s accommodation. It was a lot nicer than what she’d been expecting. Then again, whathadshe been expecting? Something sad and dirty and dreary like Daniel’s place? This wasn’tthat; this was a lot nicer than Laura’s flat. Here there were plants and pictures and cookbooks, there were blankets, old and threadbare but colorful still, folded neatly in the corner. It smelled lovely, of woodsmoke and lemon. All the surfaces were spotless.

On the bookcase next to the wood burner sat a little gold carriage clock. Laura picked it up, felt its pleasing weight in her hand. Above the bookcase, there was a shelf on which sat a wooden box. Laura tried the lid and was surprised to find it unlocked. She took the box from the shelf and placed it in front of her on the bench. Inside, she found a pair of earrings, hooped, also in gold, which didn’t look like Miriam’s taste at all. She slipped them into her pocket and continued to sift through the box. There was a silver cross with a tiny crucified Jesus, a dog ID tag, a smooth gray pebble, a letter addressed to Miriam, a key attached to a key ring.

Laura was so surprised to see it that at first she didn’t recognize it for what it was. Notakey,herkey! Her front door key, attached to the wooden key ring with a bird on it. She picked it up, holding it up to the light. Behind her, she heard a creak, she felt the boat rock gently beneath her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow move and a voice said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

•••

Laura jerked around soquickly, she almost fell off the bench. Miriam stood in the doorway, a jar of sugar in one hand, her facethunderous. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing going through my things?”

“Yourthings?” Laura recovered quickly, squaring herself, ready to go on the offensive. “This ismine!” she said. “What the fuck are you doing with my front door key?”

Miriam took a step forward and placed the jar of sugar on the counter. “I found it,” she said, pursing her lips, as though she were offended that Laura should question her in this way. “I meant to give it back to you, only I forgot, I—”

“Youforgot? You were in my flat the other day, and you didn’t think to tell me you had my key? Where did you find it? Where... this is blood, isn’t it?” Laura said, turning the key over in her hand. “This had...Jesus, this is covered in blood.” She dropped the key as though it were red-hot, wiping her fingers on her jeans. “Why would you take it?” she asked Miriam, her eyes wide, uncomprehending. “You were there, you said, you were there after I left, but why would you... why would you take it?” Laura was starting to get a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling, not helped by Miriam, standing squarely in front of her, blocking the entrance to the cabin, a stout, squat block of flesh, arms across her chest, shaking her head but saying nothing, as though she were thinking, as though she were trying to come up with an excuse for her behavior. Laura’s stomach flipped. Before, back at Laura’s flat, she’d beenjokingwhen she’d said that maybe Miriam killed Daniel, but now, now she was thinking maybe she’d been right; now she was thinking all kinds of things. This woman was damaged, this woman was a victim, this woman was fuckingcrazy.

“I saw it.” Miriam spoke at last, her expression blank and her voice even, the anger gone. “I saw the key, lying there, it was next to him. He was pale, and he looked... oh.” She sighed, a long sigh, as though all the breath were leaving her body. “He looked desperate,didn’t he?” She closed her eyes, shaking her head again. “I saw the key, I picked it up...” As she said this she half-mimed the action, bending down, picking up the key, her eyes tightly shut until she said: “I was protecting you, Laura. I’ve been protecting you all along, and I may have my own reasons for that, but that doesn’t change anything....”

Fuckingcrazy.

“I don’t want your protection!” Laura could hear the fear in her own voice and it made her feel panicky. “I don’t need anything from you, I just need to get out, I need to—” She grabbed her backpack and tried to maneuver her way through the tight space of the boat cabin past Miriam’s considerable bulk. “Let me get out, please...” But Miriam was solid, she wouldn’t move, she pushed back, throwing Laura off balance. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t touch me!”

Laura needed to get out, she needed to get off this boat, she felt as though she were choking, as though she couldn’t breathe. She felt as though she had been plunged back into the nightmare from before, the one where she was on Daniel’s dirty little boat and he was laughing at her, and she could taste his flesh in her mouth. She was spitting now, screaming,Get out of my way get out of my way get out of my way, she was wrestling with someone, some other body, grabbing fistfuls of greasy hair, pushing against her,get out of my way, she could smell sweat and bad breath, she bared her teeth,please, she was crying out, and Miriam was crying too.Don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me.

The One Who Got Away

Arms linked, they are on their way home from the horrible pub in the middle of town, the girl and her friend, weaving a little, along the side of the road. The girl is buoyed by gin and happy, comforted by the warm press of her friend’s skinny arm against the roll of flesh at her waist.

A car approaches, and her friend sticks out a thumb, half-heartedly. A battered yellow Golf, its go-faster stripe peeling away from the paintwork, cruises past, slowing. They look at each other, laugh. They run toward the car and as its door swings open, the girl hears a snatch of sound, of music, someone singing, a man’s voice, gravelly and low. She catches sight of the driver’s neck, red raw.

Don’t, she says to her friend. Don’t.

But her friend is already getting into the car, sliding in next to him, saying, “Where are we off to, then?”

TWENTY-FOUR

There were dandelions and daisies around his headstone, sunny yellow and soft cream amid the grass, which was overgrown but gave the impression of lushness rather than untidiness. Carla longed to lie down on the grass, to lie down right there, to sleep and not wake up. She had brought with her a red cashmere blanket, which she laid out, and instead of lying, she knelt, leaning forward, as though in prayer. She touched with the tops of her fingers the top of the black granite headstone, still shockingly new among the grayer, mossier graves, and said, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” She leaned back on her haunches and allowed herself to cry for a little while, in small, hiccupping sobs. Then, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose and sat down, cross-legged, her back straight, to wait. Before long, she saw Theo, as she’d known she would, making his way toward her along the path. He raised a hand in greeting. She felt her heart beat feebly in the base of her throat.

He stopped a few paces away from her. “I’ve been worried, you know,” he said, but she could tell from the tone of his voice and the cast of his face that he wasn’t angry with her. He had a chastened look, the same one he’d worn when she found out about the publicist. So, he knew. He knew that she knew about Angela, that there was something to know about Angela.

“I lost Ben’s Saint Christopher,” Carla said, moving a little to one side, to make space for him on the blanket. He sat down heavily, leaned in to kiss her, but she shrank back, saying, “No.” He frowned at her.

“Where did you lose it? What were you doing with it?”

“I... I don’t know. If I knew where I’d lost it, I wouldn’t really have lost it, would I? I had it out, because... just because I wanted to look at it. I’ve looked everywhere.”

He nodded, his gaze moving over her, taking her in. “You look awful, Carla,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ve not had a great couple of weeks,” she said, and she started to laugh, just a giggle at first and then a full-throated cackle. She laughed until tears ran down her face, until Theo lifted his hand to brush them away. She flinched away from him, again. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “Not until you tell me the truth. I don’t want you to touch me until you tell me what you did.” Part of her wanted to run away from him, part of her ached to hear him deny it.

Theo rubbed the top of his head with his forefinger, his chin dropping to his chest. “I saw Angela. I went to see her, because Daniel had come to me asking for money, and I’d given him some but then he wanted more. That’s it. That’s the whole story.”

Carla twisted her fingers into the grass, pulled a clump up with her hands, pushed it back into the soil. “Why didn’t you tell me,Theo? Why wouldn’t you tell me that Daniel had come to you, of all people...?”

Theo threw up his hands. “I don’t know! I don’t know. I didn’t know what was going on and frankly”—he looked her dead in the eye—“I wasn’t sure I wanted to.”

Carla felt her skin flush from the base of her neck to her cheekbones. “So you saw her... once? Just that one time? Theo?”

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