Page 64 of A Very Happy Easter

“We haven’t had any communication with Heath, ma’am, but his phone hasn’t moved out of the area. We’re going to send a unit over there.”

“What area? The area of the fire?”

A pause. “Yes, ma’am.” Fuck, oh fuck. “Is this the best number to reach you on?”

I hit the button, and the garage door began rolling up interminably slowly.

“Yes. Please hurry.”

The moment I had enough clearance, I gunned the Aston Martin onto the street, fiddling with the satnav as I went. I didn’t know Heath’s postcode, but I knew the park was nearby, and I figured that when I got close, blue lights would show me the way.

The good news? I was right about the lights. The bad news? The police cordon stopped a street away from the burning building. I abandoned the car and ran up to the nearest police officer.

“My boyfriend is in there. At least, I think he is. He lives in the building, the one on fire, flat 215. Is he okay?”

The officer looked me up and down, and maybe I should have changed out of my pyjamas? I pulled the coat tighter around myself and prayed I didn’t have a panic attack. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and even as a fireman in a cherry picker sprayed water, flames licked along the roofline.

“Who’s your boyfriend, ma’am?”

“Heath Carlisle. I dropped him off here earlier, and…and…”

“Give me a minute. I’ll call someone and see what we can find out.”

“Thank you. If—” I started, but I didn’t finish. No, I ducked under the tape and ran towards the familiar figure sitting on the back step of an ambulance with an oxygen mask strapped over his face.

He was alive.

Nothing else mattered because Heath was alive.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Damn, Edie. What are you doing here?”

“Checking whether you’ve been barbecued.” Now the tears I’d been holding back came. “You scared the shit out of me.”

The police officer caught up with me, wheezing. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside the cordon.”

I flung my arms around Heath. “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to arrest me.”

Heath managed half a smile. “She’s not kidding, mate.”

The cop sighed. “Don’t go any farther than this spot.”

“You think I want to run towards a burning building?”

He backed away. “Just stay there.”

I wasn’t going anywhere. Heath smelled of smoke and sweat, but I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder and wept into the blanket wrapped around him as he told me over and over again that it was okay. That he was fine, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through my neighbour’s window, then the cladding on the outside of the building caught fire, and the whole thing went up.”

“The cladding? But I thought there were rules about that? It was all over the news.”

“This building isn’t tall enough to be a priority. The bigger problem is that the sprinkler system didn’t work, and neither did the fire alarm.”

Heath began coughing, and I realised we were both covered in soot. When the blanket slipped, I saw his singed clothes, and nausea washed around my stomach. He’d almost died, hadn’t he? The fire had been close.

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