Fighting Back by Cathy MacPhail Page B

had awoken me. What?
    There was no sound. Nothing. It was my imagination. I turned over, ready to go back to sleep when it hit me.
    The smell. Smoke! I could smell smoke! The flat was on fire!

Chapter Eighteen
    I scrambled out of bed, shouting, racing for the front door.
    ‘Mum! Mum!’ I screamed. When I saw the front door was ablaze I really began to panic. How were we going to get out? Mum was bleary-eyed as she opened the door of her bedroom, but her eyes snapped open when she saw the flames. Her scream joined mine.
    ‘What are we going to do?’ I yelled at her.
    I ran to the balcony and threw open the doors. Ming was already on his balcony in his pyjamas. His face was chalk-white.
    ‘Fire!’ I screamed at him. ‘Our house is on fire!’
    ‘My maw’s already called the fire brigade.’
    ‘We can’t get out, Ming,’ I couldn’t keep the panic out of my voice. ‘The front door’s blazing.’
    He reached out a hand. ‘Come on then. Over here.’
    I think my heart stopped beating then. I was sure ofit. I looked down. Thirteen floors. I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t jump from my balcony to his.
    ‘Come on!’ He screamed at me through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll get you. I promise.’
    His hands were already reaching out to me. Both of them, thrust towards me. ‘Jump, Kerry,’ he said, his voice urging me. ‘I promise I’ll not let you drop.’
    For a moment, I almost did. I almost reached out and leapt for his hands. Then I thought of Mum here in the flat and I began to back away, shaking my head. I was staying with Mum, no matter what.
    I turned back into the flat and coughed as the smoke hit me again. I couldn’t see Mum anywhere, until suddenly she appeared from the bathroom.
    ‘Wet all the towels, Kerry. Wet everything you can find. Throw them over the fire … and buckets of water too. Get them.’
    Already I could hear shouts from the landing. Mum didn’t shout back. She was too busy throwing wet towels over the blaze and running back to the bathroom for more.
    I was choking with the thick acrid smoke. Too afraid to move. Mum returned and threw more towels on the flames. She glanced at me. ‘KERRY!’ I had seldomheard such force in her voice. ‘Get more towels NOW!’
    That made me move. I ran to the cupboard, pulling towels from the pile and running back to the bathroom with them. Mum had the bath running and I threw the towels into the water while Mum carried each one, soaking, back to the blaze.
    By the time the door was broken down, the fire was out. Mum was standing with me, her face black. All her energy had gone again. She stood motionless, her eyes vacant.
    ‘Mrs Graham … are you all right?’
    Mr McCurley was first in the door. His arms encircled my mother. Mum pulled herself roughly from his touch. He looked hurt and surprised.
    ‘I’m fine!’ Mum snapped. She glanced at me. ‘We’re both fine.’
    ‘Well, let’s get you out of here. Come into my place. Get some tea.’ It was the first real kindness we had been shown here, and it sent me into floods of tears. Mum hugged me close.
    ‘The poor wee thing’s in shock,’ Mr McCurley said, leading us out of the smoking flat and on to the landing. The neighbours had all gathered there. There was shock on their faces, and something else. Something Icouldn’t understand … not then.
    In the distance I could hear the fire brigade wail towards us.
    Suddenly, I felt Mum stiffen beside me and I looked up at her. Her eyes were alive again, and angry. I followed her gaze. Sandra was at her doorstep, a mountainous marshmallow in her pink fluffy dressing-gown. She was white with shock. Had our fire affected her so much?
    Mum broke from me and ran to her. Sandra took a step backward and almost tripped.
    ‘You!’ Mum screamed. ‘You did this!’
    Mr McCurley tried to hold Mum back. She struggled to break free of him, free to get to Mrs Ramsay. ‘Somebody put something through our letterbox and started that fire. It was you! YOU!’