what it all meant. I couldn’t believe that people were trapped inside this boiling heat. I scanned the crowd for the woman with the white dog, but she had disappeared, so I asked the woman with the spectacles. “Are there people in the fire? Are they burning?”
“Of course not, dearie,” she soothed. “The Eversons are away on holiday. They had a sign in the window, ‘Closed until Monday 11th’. And even if there was someone in there, they wouldn’t feel a thing. The smoke would get them first. So don’t you fret.” She fished in her coat pocket. “Here, have a sweet, dearie.” I hesitated, because my parents warned me not to take sweets from strangers, but Pa had laughed with this woman, so maybe she wasn’t a stranger, and it was a Werther’s toffee..
“Come on, take it.”
Fearing to offend by refusing, I croaked a thank-you from my dry throat and took the sweet, but put it into my pocket.
Now a red fire engine pulled up with blue flaring lights. Dogs and sirens howled. While the fire fighters opened the hydrant and connected their thick limp hose, the burning house roared like an angry animal. The night sky now appeared deep blue, cool and clean.
I heard one fireman question a group of men. “Anyone still in there?”
“Don’t think so. The Eversons own the shop and live in the flat above; they’re away on holiday.”
“There won’t be much left of their shop and their flat when they come back.”
“They’re insured.”
In the meantime, two fire fighters with helmets had rammed the door and gone in, but came out within moments, signalling with large arm gestures.
The fireman standing near us translated. “The staircase has collapsed. Nothing we can do.”
Flames leaped high in the air, glowing orange and yellow, red and lilac, and it was the most beautiful and most horrible sight I had ever beheld. In the midst of the tumult, I heard screams from the fire.
Around me, people mumbled and shuffled their feet.
“It’s the wood,” someone said. “The fire has reached the ceiling beams.” Another voice replied, “That’s right. Old wood always sounds like that when it burns.”
A fat dog howled and strained at its lead. But the people just stood, spellbound by the spectacle. The rumble and roar of the blaze absorbed any further cries. Huge billows of smoke and flame erupted when the roof burnt through and beams and timber collapsed with a crash.
A few moments later, the fire quietened, showing what was left of the building. The floor between the ground floor and the first storey still held. Above it, all was gone, apart from a few sagging fragments of walls, and the timbers on each corner which flamed like giant altar candles.
“That house is lost for good,” the fireman said. “All we can do now is stop the fire from spreading.”
The acid sting of wet ash got into my nose and into my throat where it scratched and tasted bitter. As best I could, I shielded my face with the knitted shawl. Dancing ashes showered us like confetti from a carnival float.
As the fire withdrew further, the darkness grew silent and cold.
“Time to go home,” Pa said to nobody in particular. “The children are getting restless.”
* * *
By the time we got home, I was shivering. Although I needed to ask many questions, Mum packed me into bed and told me to be quiet and sleep.
All night images of fire plagued me, and I feared I would burn. The bitter flavours of smoke and fear clogged my throat, and I heard the sounds of crackling fire. My heart hammered and my body was bathed in cold sweat. Many times I touched the floor to check it for heat, afraid that the storey below was burning. Any moment smoke and flames might burst through and engulf me in hell fire.
* * *
In the morning, I was still upset. My hair stank of nasty smoke, and my head burnt from the uneasy night.
Mum put her hand on my forehead while we sat at breakfast. “The girl has a fever. You shouldn’t have
“Of course not, dearie,” she soothed. “The Eversons are away on holiday. They had a sign in the window, ‘Closed until Monday 11th’. And even if there was someone in there, they wouldn’t feel a thing. The smoke would get them first. So don’t you fret.” She fished in her coat pocket. “Here, have a sweet, dearie.” I hesitated, because my parents warned me not to take sweets from strangers, but Pa had laughed with this woman, so maybe she wasn’t a stranger, and it was a Werther’s toffee..
“Come on, take it.”
Fearing to offend by refusing, I croaked a thank-you from my dry throat and took the sweet, but put it into my pocket.
Now a red fire engine pulled up with blue flaring lights. Dogs and sirens howled. While the fire fighters opened the hydrant and connected their thick limp hose, the burning house roared like an angry animal. The night sky now appeared deep blue, cool and clean.
I heard one fireman question a group of men. “Anyone still in there?”
“Don’t think so. The Eversons own the shop and live in the flat above; they’re away on holiday.”
“There won’t be much left of their shop and their flat when they come back.”
“They’re insured.”
In the meantime, two fire fighters with helmets had rammed the door and gone in, but came out within moments, signalling with large arm gestures.
The fireman standing near us translated. “The staircase has collapsed. Nothing we can do.”
Flames leaped high in the air, glowing orange and yellow, red and lilac, and it was the most beautiful and most horrible sight I had ever beheld. In the midst of the tumult, I heard screams from the fire.
Around me, people mumbled and shuffled their feet.
“It’s the wood,” someone said. “The fire has reached the ceiling beams.” Another voice replied, “That’s right. Old wood always sounds like that when it burns.”
A fat dog howled and strained at its lead. But the people just stood, spellbound by the spectacle. The rumble and roar of the blaze absorbed any further cries. Huge billows of smoke and flame erupted when the roof burnt through and beams and timber collapsed with a crash.
A few moments later, the fire quietened, showing what was left of the building. The floor between the ground floor and the first storey still held. Above it, all was gone, apart from a few sagging fragments of walls, and the timbers on each corner which flamed like giant altar candles.
“That house is lost for good,” the fireman said. “All we can do now is stop the fire from spreading.”
The acid sting of wet ash got into my nose and into my throat where it scratched and tasted bitter. As best I could, I shielded my face with the knitted shawl. Dancing ashes showered us like confetti from a carnival float.
As the fire withdrew further, the darkness grew silent and cold.
“Time to go home,” Pa said to nobody in particular. “The children are getting restless.”
* * *
By the time we got home, I was shivering. Although I needed to ask many questions, Mum packed me into bed and told me to be quiet and sleep.
All night images of fire plagued me, and I feared I would burn. The bitter flavours of smoke and fear clogged my throat, and I heard the sounds of crackling fire. My heart hammered and my body was bathed in cold sweat. Many times I touched the floor to check it for heat, afraid that the storey below was burning. Any moment smoke and flames might burst through and engulf me in hell fire.
* * *
In the morning, I was still upset. My hair stank of nasty smoke, and my head burnt from the uneasy night.
Mum put her hand on my forehead while we sat at breakfast. “The girl has a fever. You shouldn’t have
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