The Emerald Valley (75 page)

Ralph still held her and, unable to look any more, she turned her face into him, sobbing helplessly.

How long it took for the fire to be brought under control, Amy never knew, but it seemed an eternity. Never in her life had she known such complete, debilitating fear. It paralysed her, taking the use from her legs, leaving her unable even to control the sobs which still racked her. But eventually the last flame flickered and died and there was nothing but blackness and the stench of sodden and charred wood. As some of the firemen turned their attention to the piles of timber that still burned, others went in and out of the hut – dim moving figures against the backdrop of darkness and rising smoke, damping down the embers. The fire chief, a portly man whose full-time occupation was running his own firm of building contractors in the town, approached Ralph.

The moment she realised he was there, Amy grabbed at him frantically.

‘Huw! Did you find Huw?'

In the glare of the fire-engine lights, his face was smoke-blackened and sombre.

‘There's nobody alive in there, Mrs Roberts.'

Her blood seemed to turn to ice. Nobody alive!

‘Oh, there must be! There must …' Again she made to start towards the hut, again Ralph restrained her.

‘For God's sake, man, what took you so long?'

‘Trouble with the hooter. It was locked up and we couldn't get to it to blow it. The men all had to be contacted one by one. They did well, considering …'

Amy fell hysteria rising again. What were they talking about? A fire hooter locked up – men who had done well – when Huw … She shivered convulsively, a moan coming out on her trembling breath.

‘Let me go! I must look …'

‘No! It's not safe in there. As soon as they can, my men will make a search and if there's a body, they'll find it.'

A body.
Huw.
And then she was screaming again, though the sound was thin and almost drowned by the noise of the water pump and the shouts of the men as they damped down the hut and extinguished the remaining pockets of fire.

‘Mr Porter – there you are.' It was Sergeant Eyles, bustling and businesslike, but he stopped short as he became aware of Amy standing there. ‘What's going on here, then?'

‘It's Huw! He's dead …' Amy began incoherently and Ralph put an arm round her shoulders.

‘It's all right, Amy. Hush, now. Well, Sergeant, this is about the size of it …' He went on to explain, relaying the facts as he had gleaned them from Amy's hysterical account.

When he had finished, the policeman's face was as sombre as the fire chief's had been.

‘Boys – boys!' He shook his head. ‘But you're not absolutely sure he's in there, by the sound of it?'

‘If he isn't, then where
is
he?' Amy cried. ‘They said he was there; they left him …'

‘Well, if he is, the firemen will find him,' Sergeant Eyles said, his matter-of-fact tone chilling Amy yet again. ‘Now, the best thing you can do is to get home. Unless Mr Porter will take you into his house for a cup of tea, of course? You could do with one by the look of you, and it's as well you're not here if …' He nodded meaningfully.

‘You can come to my place if you like, Amy,' Ralph said. ‘But I expect you'd rather be at home.'

‘Home,' Amy said in a dazed tone, wondering what it was about the word which was striking chords somewhere in her. Then she remembered and her hands flew to her mouth.

‘The children – they're on their own! I didn't even lock the door! I never thought …'

Ralph and Sergeant Eyles exchanged glances.

‘Come on, I'll take you, Amy,' Ralph said and to the policeman: ‘I'll be back, though there's not a great deal more I can do here tonight.'

Though still dazed she tried to run but her legs were unsteady and she was shaking so much she almost fell. Ralph's arm went around her, supporting her. They did not speak on the lane; words seemed superfluous, and in the car she was possessed by a sense of nightmare urgency, a longing to get back to the girls and make certain that they at least were safe.

The house was in darkness except for the patch of light from the kitchen window. It looked just as she had left it, so normal it had no place in this nightmare, but she had a sudden precognition of the long hours of the night stretching before her, hours when she would be unable to sleep, waiting for the knock on the door, hours when she would be alone … so alone. How did I ever believe I could be self-sufficient? she wondered. Such a short time ago she had been so sure she had faced the worst that could happen to her, the darkest moments of her life. Now she was aware once again of her painful vulnerability, the way in which fate could suddenly turn and deal a body blow – and her sense of aloneness when it did. If something terrible has happened to Huw – if he is dead – I shall never get over it, she thought.

‘Amy, if you need anything …'

Ralph's face in the glow of the street lights was all strength and shadows and it tore at some deep part of her. He would not utter platitudes. That was not his way.

She turned quickly and ran down the path to the house. The door was on the latch as she had left it and she pushed it open and went into the kitchen with its bright, enveloping light.

Everything was just as usual. Not a world where terrible things happened but a safe, pleasant, warm world. Somehow it only intensified the feeling of nightmare as she stumbled through the kitchen and into the living-room. And then she saw him!

Crumpled up in the big wing-chair, chin resting on chest, at first she thought she was imagining things, then she thought he was dead. She grasped at the table edge for support, a soft scream rising in her throat, but the sound did nothing to wake him. He remained motionless – small, bedraggled-looking, his face and bare arms blackened with soot, jagged scratches trickling rivers of dried blood between, the dirt on his legs. Though still supported by his securely-tied boot, one foot lolled out of the chair to give the appearance of a rag doll, and in spite of the chill in the room now that the fire had died to nothing more than embers, he wore no jacket.

As the first shock passed, relief and exultation flooded in and suddenly Amy was laughing and crying at the same time, hardly able to believe that after all the agony and her worst fears he was here, alive and safe, curled up in her favourite chair.

‘Huw!' she ran towards him, unable to contain herself and he stirred, rubbing at his grimy face with blackened fists. Then as he saw her he came wide awake, guilt shadowing his eyes.

‘Oh, thank God, you're here!' She was gabbling, the words tumbling out one on top of the other, ‘I thought – oh, you don't know what I thought! The boys said that you … where
were
you?'

For a moment he did not answer, but the guilt was there, written all over him. Suddenly she was angry, her fear and shock transmuting all the terrible emotion of the last hour and exploding to fury.

‘Where were you, Huw? You were in there, weren't you – in the hut? You started that fire!'

His eyes, red-rimmed, were full of fear. ‘We didn't mean to …'

‘You didn't.… !' She broke off. ‘I've been worried sick about you! I thought you were dead! The place is burned out, you know that, do you? And the timber yard – it's been the most terrible fire! You were responsible, weren't you?
Weren't
you?'

She had him by the shoulders, shaking him.

‘You did it! You and those … those
stupid
friends of yours. I should never have let you go out tonight. Well, you won't again. Not with them anyway. I shall see to that. Oh, Huw, how could you be so stupid? How
could
you?'

‘We didn't know … we didn't think … I tried to put it out …' His teeth were chattering as she shook him, repeating his words.

‘You didn't know. You didn't think. I'll teach you to think!' She was beside herself now out of control, the words pouring out in a hysterical stream, until a sound from the doorway made her stop and swing round.

Barbara stood there, eyes round with bewilderment and fear. In her nightgown she looked like a small, crumpled cherub. Then as Amy hesitated, still gripping Huw's arms, she ran across the room to grab wildly at her mother's sleeves and skirt.

‘Mummy, don't – don't! You're hurting him!'

The temper went out of Amy in a rush, leaving her weak and trembling. Her arms dropped to her sides but Huw still stood there, paralysed by the ferocity of her attack.

‘Oh, what's the use …' The note of hysteria was still there in her voice. ‘What's done is done. Huw, you're black. I'll put the water on so that you can have a bath. And Barbara, go back to bed.'

‘No, Mummy! Mummy, what's happening? Tell me, Mummy …' Barbara was sobbing now, but still clinging to Huw.

‘Nothing, Babs. It's all right.' She drew breath as another thought struck her – the firemen still searching the ruins of the shed for Huw's charred body. ‘Huw, you go and fill the boiler. Babs – come on, I'll put you back to bed. Then I have to make a telephone call.'

She took hold of Barbara firmly and bundled her up the stairs. The child went unwillingly, but Amy was in no mood to either pacify her or explain; her frayed nerves simply would not allow it. She put Barbara into her bed and drew up the covers.

‘Go back to sleep now. And not another sound. If you wake Maureen, I shall be very cross.'

The child's eyes peeped at her over the coverlet, wide and frightened, and she bent to kiss her, forcing her voice to come out steady.

‘It's all right, Babs. Nothing for you to worry about, I promise. Huw has been naughty, that's all.'

If only that
were
all, she thought, going back downstairs on legs which still felt like soggy cotton wool. Who should she telephone to say that Huw was all right? Ralph's house? The police station? She wasn't looking forward to doing it, but it had to be done. She settled on the police and the phone was answered by Sergeant Eyles'wife, an officious little woman who, totally dominated by her husband, did her own dominating whenever and wherever she could.

‘Sergeant's not home at present. He's out dealing with a fire.'

‘Yes, I know.' Swallowing her embarrassment Amy explained the situation, enduring the woman's ill-disguised snorts of disgust.

‘All right, I'll let him know as soon as I can. And he'll be coming to see you, no doubt – and the boy.'

Oh, Lord, Amy thought, the full implication of what Huw had done coming home to her. Huw and the other boys had been responsible for a serious fire, so there was bound to be a police investigation.

When she finished on the telephone she went to talk to Huw, who was struggling to fill the boiler.

‘We better have a chat while the water's boiling,' she said wearily. ‘And you had better tell me exactly what happened.'

She took him back into the living-room, where she sat him down and crouched beside him.

‘From the beginning,' she instructed.

She was calmer now and her calm communicated itself to him. Haltingly, his eyes avoiding hers, he related what had happened in the shed. When he had finished, she sat back on her heels.

‘Oh Huw, Huw, why did you do it? Why did you go in there? Surely you knew you shouldn't? And playing with matches …'

‘I did try to put it out.' His eyes were frightened and suddenly, without warning, she was remembering a long-ago Sunday when Ted, her brother, had been accused of letting out a neighbour's pig to root among the parsnips. Only a small girl herself, she had been terrified by the consequences she envisaged – at worst, the police coming for Ted; at best, a winter without root vegetables to fill their hungry bellies because they would be forced to replace those spoiled by the pig. The dread had been similar to what she was experiencing now. But how long ago it seemed – and how harmless compared with this mess!

She shivered, hiding it from Huw.

‘All right, go and have your bath now. The water will be hot enough. I'll come and help you get it ready. Then I'll make you a milky drink.'

In the bathroom the walls were dripping with condensation. As she dipped water, the steam rose into her face and she was unsure whether the droplets on her cheeks were perspiration or tears.

‘Get undressed.'

Obediently he took off his shirt, then stood in his vest and shorts waiting for her to go. He was too big a boy now to let her remain while he bathed, but she looked at him for a moment all the same, at the once-thin limbs which now had filled out and grown sturdy; the shoulders, broad and brown above his white vest, even though it was winter; the thick brown hair falling over his smoke-streaked cheeks; and in spite of her anger and anxiety, she was overwhelmed with tenderness.

She had come so near to losing him. This strong young body could so easily have been reduced to charred flesh and bone. But it hadn't happened. The shed might be a burned-out shell, the timber yard devastated, but Huw was alive and almost unharmed. The rest were material things and replaceable – if she had to foot the bill for the damage, well, so be it. It was only Huw who was irreplaceable and he was here, safe, beneath his own roof. Amy whispered a prayer of thankfulness, then went out, closing the door behind her and leaving Huw to his bath.

Through the long hours of the night Amy slept little, weary though she was. She was too tense still and each time she closed her eyes, she found herself reliving the nightmares of the evening. The smell of the smoke was still in her nostrils, the sounds of the fire still in her ears and the terrible scenes – some real, some imagined – there in vivid splashes of colour before her eyes. It was a cold night but Amy lay sweating and then, when she pushed the covers aside, the night air crept in chill rivers down her neck and back so that she was soon shivering violently.