three holly wreaths, one for each of the cottages.
As Pansy hammered a nail into her front door to hang the decoration on, a man called to her from the lane, ‘That looks right pretty, luv.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Pansy replied, smiling. She didn’t know the fellow but with half a dozen dead rabbits hanging from his shoulder, she assumed he was a local.
‘What about a nice hare or rabbit for dinner on Boxing Day?’ he said.
Pansy thought for a moment. She could make a rabbit stew. She was sure James and Lucy would enjoy it. ‘Are they fresh?’
‘Fresh this morning.Shot clean through the head. No damage to the flesh. Have a look if you like.’
‘How much?’
‘A shilling apiece.Three for half-a-crown.’
‘Can you wait a minute?’
‘I’ve got all the time in the world for you, luv!’
Pansy didn’t notice the sly wink as she hurried inside. She returned with the shilling piece. ‘I haven’t seen you in the village. Do you come from these parts?’
‘I get around,’ the man said, unhooking one of his carcasses. ‘How long have you lived here?’
‘Almost four years,’ she said.
‘And you got kids?’
‘Yes, a boy and a girl.’
‘Nice family,’ the man said, re-adjusting the load on his shoulder. ‘I’ll be back in a few days to collect the skin. Happy Christmas!’
‘Happy Christmas to you!’Pansy echoed.
The man was whistling as he wandered down the hill towards the village.
That evening, the smell of mince tarts wafted into Lucy’s front room where James and Alice were singing the final verse of ‘Good King Wenceslas’. Sitting in the armchair by the kitchen fire, Lucy was dozing, when a noise woke her. It was a strange sound and it was coming from next door. Thinking it might be a chicken squawking with a fox at its tail, she grabbed the broom and ran into the back garden. Only when she was outside did she realize it was Pansy’s cry. Her neighbour was screaming and black smoke was billowing from her kitchen door.
‘James! Alice!’ she yelled. ‘Quick! The house is on fire!’
Chapter 10
Stanley Crowther
Within seconds of the candle toppling, the Chinese lantern ignited in a ball of fire and flames leapt up the paper decorations. With hardly a sound tongues of fire ran right and left, consuming the chains, link by link, and at the same time, scattering burning fragments on the floor and furniture. Pansy had swung at the flames with a towel but her efforts had only succeeded in fanning the blaze. By the time the others arrived, the curtains were alight.
‘Water!’ shouted James. ‘Quick, grab some buckets, bowls, anything!’
The thick smoke swirling overhead suffocated some of the blaze but when the running flame reached the corner of the room, the fire flared again. The longest chain hanging diagonally across the room seared from the wall and like a fiery dragon’s tail curled and twisted before drifting down.
‘Alice! Get out of the way!’ James screamed. Too late. The length of burning paper settled over her shoulder and slithered down her back. Within seconds her hair was alight and the back of her skirt burning like a torch.
Too shocked to scream, she tried to dash the flames out with her hands.
James pushed her to the ground, grabbed the rag-rug and rolled her in it. Lucy fought the fire as best she could, desperately knocking the other trimmings from the wall before they ignited, while Pansy ran back and forth with buckets of water to throw over the burning woodwork.
Only when the fire was finally out did the three sink to the floor, blackened, coughing and exhausted. For a while no one spoke. They had beaten the blaze before it had really got hold. The acrid smoke, the smell of singed hair and scorched cloth would fade in a few days. The ceiling beams, though charred and steaming, were strong and thick. The damage to the cottage could have been much worse. They had been lucky.
But Alice was not so fortunate. Since
As Pansy hammered a nail into her front door to hang the decoration on, a man called to her from the lane, ‘That looks right pretty, luv.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Pansy replied, smiling. She didn’t know the fellow but with half a dozen dead rabbits hanging from his shoulder, she assumed he was a local.
‘What about a nice hare or rabbit for dinner on Boxing Day?’ he said.
Pansy thought for a moment. She could make a rabbit stew. She was sure James and Lucy would enjoy it. ‘Are they fresh?’
‘Fresh this morning.Shot clean through the head. No damage to the flesh. Have a look if you like.’
‘How much?’
‘A shilling apiece.Three for half-a-crown.’
‘Can you wait a minute?’
‘I’ve got all the time in the world for you, luv!’
Pansy didn’t notice the sly wink as she hurried inside. She returned with the shilling piece. ‘I haven’t seen you in the village. Do you come from these parts?’
‘I get around,’ the man said, unhooking one of his carcasses. ‘How long have you lived here?’
‘Almost four years,’ she said.
‘And you got kids?’
‘Yes, a boy and a girl.’
‘Nice family,’ the man said, re-adjusting the load on his shoulder. ‘I’ll be back in a few days to collect the skin. Happy Christmas!’
‘Happy Christmas to you!’Pansy echoed.
The man was whistling as he wandered down the hill towards the village.
That evening, the smell of mince tarts wafted into Lucy’s front room where James and Alice were singing the final verse of ‘Good King Wenceslas’. Sitting in the armchair by the kitchen fire, Lucy was dozing, when a noise woke her. It was a strange sound and it was coming from next door. Thinking it might be a chicken squawking with a fox at its tail, she grabbed the broom and ran into the back garden. Only when she was outside did she realize it was Pansy’s cry. Her neighbour was screaming and black smoke was billowing from her kitchen door.
‘James! Alice!’ she yelled. ‘Quick! The house is on fire!’
Chapter 10
Stanley Crowther
Within seconds of the candle toppling, the Chinese lantern ignited in a ball of fire and flames leapt up the paper decorations. With hardly a sound tongues of fire ran right and left, consuming the chains, link by link, and at the same time, scattering burning fragments on the floor and furniture. Pansy had swung at the flames with a towel but her efforts had only succeeded in fanning the blaze. By the time the others arrived, the curtains were alight.
‘Water!’ shouted James. ‘Quick, grab some buckets, bowls, anything!’
The thick smoke swirling overhead suffocated some of the blaze but when the running flame reached the corner of the room, the fire flared again. The longest chain hanging diagonally across the room seared from the wall and like a fiery dragon’s tail curled and twisted before drifting down.
‘Alice! Get out of the way!’ James screamed. Too late. The length of burning paper settled over her shoulder and slithered down her back. Within seconds her hair was alight and the back of her skirt burning like a torch.
Too shocked to scream, she tried to dash the flames out with her hands.
James pushed her to the ground, grabbed the rag-rug and rolled her in it. Lucy fought the fire as best she could, desperately knocking the other trimmings from the wall before they ignited, while Pansy ran back and forth with buckets of water to throw over the burning woodwork.
Only when the fire was finally out did the three sink to the floor, blackened, coughing and exhausted. For a while no one spoke. They had beaten the blaze before it had really got hold. The acrid smoke, the smell of singed hair and scorched cloth would fade in a few days. The ceiling beams, though charred and steaming, were strong and thick. The damage to the cottage could have been much worse. They had been lucky.
But Alice was not so fortunate. Since
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