Fire Spirit by Graham Masterton

for flammable liquids. Gasoline, methanol, vodka Martinis, you name it.’
    â€˜And what good will drinking do, exactly?’
    He raised one finger, as if he were about to impart the greatest gem of wisdom since Moses. ‘Drinking stops you thinking. That’s what good it does.’
    â€˜I see. Drinking stops you thinking. Well, I’m not drinking because I still have a full-time job to do and a house to run and two teenage kids and a husband to look after. A drunken husband, as it happens.’
    â€˜You’re a saint, Ruth. I always said that. That’s why I married you. Saint Ruth of the Smoothly Running Household.’
    â€˜So,’ she asked him, ‘how did it go with the Kraussmans?’
    â€˜The Kraussmans?’ he grimaced. ‘Not exactly great, to tell you the truth.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’ asked Ruth.
    â€˜It means that the Kraussman Brothers have been pretty badly hit by the credit crunch, like everybody else. They’re drawing in their horns, that’s the way they put it.’
    â€˜And what does that mean – “drawing in their horns”?’
    â€˜In a nutshell, it means they’re putting a temporary hold on any future housing development.’
    â€˜So they won’t be giving you any more contracts?’
    â€˜Not for the foreseeable future, no.’
    â€˜But the Kraussmans – they supply you with more than half of your gross income.’
    Craig nodded. ‘Correct. They do. But right now it looks like we’ll just have to find somebody else to fit kitchens for.’
    â€˜Like who, for instance? If the Kraussmans are drawing in their horns, then everybody else will be drawing in their horns, too.’
    â€˜I don’t know yet,’ said Craig. ‘I’m working on it.’
    There was a long silence between them. Then Craig said, ‘Ammy . . . she was pretty upset about that breakfast she cooked for you.’
    â€˜I know. But we’ve made up now. Where are you going to find more contracts?’
    Craig looked up, and for the first time ever his gray eyes looked hooded and defensive. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ he told her. ‘I truly and honestly don’t know.’
    â€˜But you have about three months’ grace, don’t you? They’re still going to finish the Mayfield Drive development?’
    â€˜I don’t think so. In fact I very much doubt it.’
    â€˜ What ?’
    Craig took a deep breath. ‘That’s what this morning’s meeting was all about, honey. The Kraussmans have run out of credit at the bank and they’ve had to stop all building work at Mayfield Drive and Wildcat Creek West, and lay everybody off. They didn’t want to, but they didn’t have the choice.’
    â€˜So where does that leave you? Where does that leave us ?’
    â€˜Struggling for survival, I guess.’
    â€˜But they will pay you for the work you’ve done already? Come on, Craig, you’ve laid out thousands of dollars for worktops and sinks and floor tiles and God knows what else.’
    Craig shook his head. ‘They’re flat-busted. Eugene Kraussman said he was very sorry, he’s been doing everything he can to keep the company’s head above water, but even if he manages to finish the development, he won’t be able to sell any of the houses at a profit, not at today’s prices, if at all.’
    â€˜But they have to pay you! You have a contract!’
    Craig reached across the table and held her hands. ‘If they don’t have the money, sweetheart, they don’t have the money, contract or not. You can’t get blood out of a cinder block.’
    Ruth didn’t know what to say. She had been conscious for the past few months that Craig was growing increasingly worried about cash flow, and that new orders for fitted kitchens had been few and far between. He had not only been sleeping badly, he