Enticement (28 page)

“Evie, wait!” Lillianna caught up with her. “We should keep back. It’s not good up there.”

The fog cloud grew denser as they neared the cottage. Ash swirled like confetti in the air and stuck to every surface. The smoke itself had a bitter taste and dried their throats. Regardless, Evie pressed on, her coat held tight across her mouth and nose. She reached the rear of the first fire engine, and almost ran into Ross. He was sandwiched between two burly police officers, resisting their pleas for calm, his curses, regularly punctuated by calls for Kit.

There was no answering cry, only the horrid crackles and fizzing pops of flames burning through dried timbers, and then the roar of water as the fire engine crews directed their hoses. Upstairs, one of the cottage windows blew out and shattered, making both women yelp. They scuttled back towards the hedgerow on the far side of the lane. “What happened, Lilli? Tell me.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Everyone was at the pub celebrating, waiting for you, but then a rumour started circulating that Molly was back and it hadn’t been Sammie after all but some other woman. It all got a bit crazy then, some folks had had a bit too much and they were getting mouthy. I left the pub at that point and went over to Molly’s, but there was no sign of her. Her car isn’t even back. I tried sending her a message, but I’ve not had a reply. And I tried you. Again, no response, so I thought I’d walk back up here and find you. Only I got halfway across the green and someone told me the place was on fire. I tried to ring you again, and I sent a message, but you know what the reception’s like around here.”

True to her words, another few paces into the field and Evie’s mobile phone started chirping with a message alert. She gazed at the text neither seeing nor comprehending it. Instead, tears streamed down her cheeks, forming rivulets in the tight mask of smoke particles that already coated her face. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. Fate couldn’t tear him away from them like this. They’d only just got comfortable with one another. Ross had even suggested they consider booking a holiday together.

“He’s still in there,” she groaned, sagging to her knees among the damp grass. “He wouldn’t come with us…refused to believe… And Mimmy’s in there with him.” The notion of the kitten being trapped in her basket tore another hole in her already breaking heart. Both her strays. They’d both arrived the same night; now they were going to depart together.

No! She couldn’t let herself think like that. They’d survive, both of them. Somehow, they’d be all right.

“They have to get them out.” She clawed at Lillianna’s skirt, and buried her face in its magenta and black folds, sequins digging into her cheek. “Have to. Have to get them out.”

Chapter Seventeen

After Ross and Evie left, Kit down tooled and watched their car tail lights fade away. Evie had been clucking around him like a mother hen, when all he’d really wanted was a moment alone to collect his thoughts. Sammie found…alive and well. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t believe it. She’d been missing too long, and the details of her absence were too deeply engraved upon his soul for him to accept anything but absolute proof that anything had changed.

Kit wandered through the empty rooms to his favourite perch on the windowsill of the back bedroom, only to find condensation clouding the small mullioned panes, which had run down and formed a large puddle on the sill. Frustrated, he flung a rag on it, and collapsed onto the bed instead, causing a plume of feathers to puff skywards. Mimmy immediately pounced, disturbed from her favourite hidey-hole beneath the bed by the growl of the springs. Distractedly, he watched the kitten caper, swiping at the speckled feathers with her paws.

Maybe he’d come back as a cat in his next life. It seemed a pretty easy life, and no one made a fuss about you going on the prowl. Not that he currently felt remotely sexual. What he really wanted was someone to hold him tight and not let go regardless of how much he abused them. He needed that sort of absolute faith, that sort of unwavering love to prove that everything was still okay, and that the world wasn’t about to turn topsy-turvy again.

Kit dug in his pocket for his phone. He scrolled through the call list searching for Ross and Evie’s home number. Maybe if they held him, one either side, he’d feel safe. Stuff fish and chips, he wanted them back. His thumb hovered over the dial button. He didn’t want to sound needy.

The sound of shattering glass startled him into a seated position. Kit ran onto the landing just in time to see a second missile sail through the already shattered window that provided illumination on the turn of the stairs. The smell caught in his nostrils just before the new glowing missile shattered on impact. What was that? Petrol? He stopped himself short of the lower landing, his arms braced upon the banisters as the fuel caught and the flames fanned out in a huge arch below him. Kit made a hasty retreat. Already, fiery tendrils were racing across the landing and down the aged wooden stairs.

“Shit!” One of the loose electrical wires sparked. And then the lights went out.

Something had provoked this. What had he done?

The woman hadn’t been Sammie, he concluded. So, they were coming for him with flames and pitchforks. He needed to get out of here and run.

Kit ran back towards the bedroom, improvising an escape route out of the window. If he threw the mattress out first, the landing would at least be soft. Mimmy shot between his feet as he opened the bedroom door. “No!” he called after her. “Stupid cat.”

Kit chased across the landing after her and followed her up the half-rotten stairs to the attic. She carved a long gouge in his hand when he tried to extract her from one of Flora’s old hat boxes. “Ow! Damn, you stupid moggy.” He sucked at the wound, in which blood had begun to pool, then made a second grab for her. This time he hung on, despite her claws. “Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have time for this. We need to get out.” There were no convenient hatches onto the roof. That was damned inconvenient oversight. He’d phone a Velux windows rep tomorrow if he got out of here alive and there was a house left to install them in. Fire brigade, he thought, hurrying downstairs again. No, he needed to get out first.

The few seconds it had taken to grab Mimmy had wrought extensive damage to the landing. What little wallpaper there was now hung in fiery curls. Thickening smoke obscured the route back to the room he’d inhabited. It was the only room with sash windows that still opened; the others had long since succumbed to layers of paint and wood filler. A few of them had been nailed shut from the outside.

Kit inched his way along the passage. Flames seemed to line every groove between the floorboards, rows upon rows of pretty orange petals that he had to dance around. If it had been more than a few feet he didn’t think he’d have made it. He paused halfway, gasping for breath and wondered if he’d have been better staying in the attic and trying to knock a hole in the new roof. Having it fixed had clearly been a terrible mistake.

He laughed, although it came out as a dry cough that morphed into a sob. Mimmy’s wriggling intensified at his distress. “We should have had a puppy,” he told her. “At least dogs are loyal, and they understand the concept of giving comfort not just receiving it. Keep still, will yer.”

A crack sounded above and plaster began raining from the ceiling. Kit darted, avoiding the falling debris, but he skidded, jarring his ankle. Pain fired up his leg, and on instinct he flung Mimmy through the door to the bedroom and reached out for support, only for every nerve ending in his body to join the chorus of agony as a jet of flames scorched his hands. Kit drew breath to scream but no sound came out. The smoke dried his eyes and got into nostrils. He followed Mimmy into the bedroom, and kicked the door closed behind them. There, he collapsed, as the world began to spin.

His hands were blacked and dotted with vibrant speckles of red. Kit bit down and made his muscles propel him forward, even though he could feel the fluid seeping between his fingers. Crying, and choking, he crawled his way to the window. It hurt like hell to manipulate the catch. Kit sacrificed an abandoned mug to the cause, bashing it against the stiff lock until it released.

Air gusted into the room as he raised the sash. There was no time to manipulate the mattress now. And he wasn’t sure he could do it. He pulled the ends of his sleeves down over his hands, leaving just the tips of his fingers sticking out, then the grabbed the yowling kitten again. Ignoring both her squirming and the bite of her claws, he tucked her as best he could inside his jacket and zipped it up. “You’ll thank me later, pussy cat.”

Kit shimmied out of window and tentatively lowered himself from the sill. He didn’t remember hitting the ground, only being roused from his prone position amongst the trees in the orchard by a man in a large helmet.

“How is he?”

Ross turned his head from the partition window separating the treatment room from the waiting area to find an unfamiliar figure stood a few feet away. She stared expectantly at him, her hands raised to the disinfectant dispenser. Another two more familiar figures bustled up behind her. “Molly. Lillianna.” He nodded. Only then did he make the connection. “Sammie!”

She inclined her chin a fraction. “Hello, Ross.”

She’d changed. How the hell had they recognised her from a television image? Here she was in the flesh before him and he could only see the vaguest similarities to the girl he once knew. She was still blonde, but where once her hair had fallen in a silken cascade across her shoulder blades, it was now cropped almost to the scalp. And by God, there’d never been much to her, but she had to be three stone lighter. “Sammie?” he hissed again, still not quite believing it. All those years of wondering and here she was in front of him as if there’d never been any trouble.

“We heard what happened,” said Molly, coming forward to stand between him and her sister, making herself into a human shield. “Lillianna said that Kit was trapped inside. Is he going to be okay?”

Anger surged inside him. They had no right. Molly had made Kit’s life hell for years with her accusations, and as for Sammie, she had a huge apology to give and a hell of a lot of explaining to do before she learned anything from him. Her selfishness had saddled Kit with a lifetimes worth of guilt. More than that, Sammie was the reason Kit was lying in a hospital bed.

As for Lillianna—her interference had damn near split them up, but he acknowledged that hadn’t been her intention. She was simply trying to protect Evie by presenting her with the facts.

“His hands are grim,” he began, avoiding eye contact with any of them. Ross turned back to the glass divide and the activity around Kit’s bed. “I don’t know if they’ll ever be right again. The burns are pretty bad. They’re going to get plastics to look at them.” They had Kit wired up to a drip.

“I’m sorry,” Molly said.

“Do they know how the fire started?”

“No,” he said firmly, hoping she understood the conversation was over. Kit had babbled something to the fire officers about petrol and a smashed window. They were looking into arson, but the two primary suspects were already accounted for. Molly had been off meeting Sammie, and Tony had never left the pub. Kit kept saying he didn’t want any fuss, that he wanted the whole episode forgotten, but he was high on a cocktail of pain meds.

“Drink?” Molly asked.

Ross shrugged.

“I’ll help,” said Lillianna. The pair of them walked off towards the main entrance, leaving him alone with Sammie.

The scent of her perfume wafted over him, light and fruity with a sharp after bite, as she moved to stand beside him. “I had to go, Ross. I can’t explain why, but I had no choice.”

“Would it have hurt to tell one person that you were okay?” He didn’t want to hear her story. At this moment, he didn’t want to understand. Her past choices had nearly stolen Kit from him forever. Six years while Kit hid in Japan had hardly passed in the blink of an eye.

“I never meant to hurt him.” She pressed a hand to the glass, another liberty at which he ground his teeth.

“But you did.” His words must have pierced the glass, for Evie waved to him, and gave him a rallying smile.

“He’s doing okay,” she mouthed. “You can come in.”

Ross left Sammie in the corridor and headed into the private room. They’d been told only one visitor at a time by the original nurse, but no one protested his entry. Kit’s hands were swaddled in dressings, and he was connected to an intravenous drip, but he was sitting upright and now his skin was clear of soot, he didn’t appear nearly so ill. Ross threw his arms around his neck. “You fucking idiot. The cat’s not worth your life. What were you thinking?”

Unable to pat his back in response, Kit gave him a gormless grin. “I didn’t want another disappearance on my conscience. One is enough for any man. I’m okay, Ross. The doctors aren’t too concerned. Leastways they’re not talking about the prospect of taking skin grafts off my arse.”

Kit’s attempt at humour brought tears to Ross’s eyes. “I love you, you stupid bastard.” He nuzzled against Kit’s shoulder, not conscious that he was crushing him until Evie tentatively eased them apart.

“They are however, pushing enough meds into me to make up for all the times I’ve refused them.” Kit rolled his eyes at the drip. “I don’t suppose you could have a word with them about my preferences for natural methods.”

“No, he can’t.” Evie patted Kit’s leg through the sheet. “They’re probably the only reason you’re sitting upright and aren’t screaming like you were the whole way here in the ambulance.”

Kit raised his brows, feigning scepticism. “Did I scream?”

“Like a girl,” said Ross. “But don’t worry, we won’t put it about.”

“I bloody hope not. I’m not planning on being away from home that long.” Ross starred at him a moment, then let a smile crack his lips. If Kit was thinking of sex, then he really wasn’t that badly hurt. He crushed his lips to Kit’s, thrusting his tongue deep. He didn’t care who saw: Sammie or the various members of staff. He wasn’t going to hide their relationship anymore. No one would get away with thinking they were simply sharing Evie. They’d make it plain it was a proper three-way relationship. As if to prove that, Evie rubbed up against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her back and drew her into the huddle, kissing her too. “Shall I wait to mention the lease?” he asked.

Evie thumped him.

“Is that Sammie?” Kit sank back against the pillows, his gaze focused on the woman standing in the corridor. “I want to talk to her.”

“Tomorrow,” Evie barked. “When you’re okay.”

Kit did eventually talk to Sammie, but not until the next day. If she gave him anymore details about her disappearance than she’d admitted to anyone else, Kit didn’t let on. When asked, he just smiled and said he was satisfied, and that he only wished she’d felt she could have trusted him better then. And no, actually, he wasn’t a dad; he made a point of informing Evie while Lillianna was also present, just to nip that particular rumour before it started. Lilli liked to be at the forefront of any gossip, but she also liked to be right.

The police came to speak to him too, but Kit refused to name potential suspects or press charges. He explained what had happened and left it at that, keen to put the past behind him. Flora’s legacy was a wreck, little more than a smouldering, blackened shell, but he asked as the officers left how soon he could start repairing it.