A Perfect Home (33 page)

She didn't know what to do. She wanted to cross the road, ring his doorbell, and confront him, but something inside her kept her sitting in the car. She felt too shocked to move, too humiliated. Inside her hopes and fantasies were collapsing painfully into nothing. She sat motionless, her hands limp in her lap, her eyes still fixed on the dark gap between the curtains. She didn't know how long she sat like that. The road started to come to life around her. People jogged and rollerbladed, parents pushed prams, smartly dressed men and women hurried past – all oblivious to her. The bright sunshine seemed to make things worse, belying her mood of despair and hopelessness.

Just as she began to think about summoning the strength to drive away, the front doors of the flats swung open and Stefan and the woman appeared. Wrapped up in winter coats and long scarves, they began walking down the steps towards Claire's car. In panic, she slid down in her seat. With one hand she reached down on to the floor, scrabbling for any form of camouflage. Finding a red knitted hat of Oliver's she put it on, pulling it down hard, until she could only just see the road outside. She pushed back her hair and put on a pair of old sunglasses she found in the glove box. She silently prayed they wouldn't see her and that Stefan wouldn't recognise her car, but he never even glanced in her direction.

At the bottom of the steps Stefan put his arm around the woman and they turned and walked down the street. Claire saw him say something to her, his mouth close to her ear. She laughed affectionately and pushed him with her elbow. He seemed to squeeze her harder and she laughed again. Stefan turned his face towards the woman, and from his profile Claire could see he was smiling, and then all she could see were their backs, their coats swinging out behind them as they walked away and disappeared from view.

Claire sat up and took off the sunglasses. Anger started to rise inside her. How could she have been so stupid? She had meant nothing to him. She had only been a game to him. What a fool she had been to have ever thought it could have been anything else. She wondered how long he had been with the woman. They looked close, as if they had been a couple for some time. Maybe they had been together in the summer, even when Claire had first met him. Maybe they had been together for years. Maybe they were married. Maybe it was the woman from Australia. Claire felt sorry for her. She was probably completely unaware of how Stefan behaved; how he was with other women. He obviously didn't care about the consequences of his actions, for all his virtuous talk last summer. He had just destroyed her marriage, her family, her children's happiness, her life – yet he could walk away with someone else, oblivious to the pain he'd caused. Claire hit the steering wheel hard and she found herself crying, tears pouring down her face, dripping down her neck and onto the green silk dress she was still wearing from her birthday meal. She realised she hadn't even taken off her coat from the time she'd left the restaurant the night before.

Claire jumped at a sudden loud tap on the passenger-side window. She looked up to see a cross-faced elderly man wearing a tweed jacket and spotted blue cravat. Claire turned on the ignition and pushed the button to open the window.

‘This is permit parking only,' he said, a grey moustache twitching above his thin lips. ‘Have you not seen the signs?' He jabbed a finger towards a small sign on a pole just up the street.

‘Oh,' she said, sniffing. ‘Sorry, I didn't realise.'

‘You seem to think you can just sit here for hours and it won't matter,' went on the man. ‘Other people could be trying to park.'

‘Sorry.' She reached up to brush the tears away and realised she was still wearing Oliver's hat. She whipped it off quickly and used it to wipe her eyes. The damp wool stung her face. She felt ridiculous.

‘I've been watching you,' said the man, his voice raised. He seemed oblivious to Claire's distress. ‘Sitting there, no permit visible. I'm sure you've been there for more than an hour. What about the proper residents? You could be prosecuted. I've every right to call the authorities you know. You should be fined.'

‘Oh, shut up,' said Claire suddenly and shut the window. The man was shouting at her, but she couldn't hear his words. She started the car and pulled away as quickly as she could.

As she looked in her rear-view mirror she could see the man still standing on the pavement, one hand cupped to his mouth. Two teenage girls walked past and stared at him and then at Claire's car as she manoeuvred over the series of speed bumps faster than she should have.

She had stopped crying by the time she was driving on the motorway. Her head seemed clearer, her pain already less, or at least more manageable. Now she knew the truth. At least she knew there was no point in hoping any more. Stefan wasn't worth it. He had never been worth it. She had made a terrible mistake, she only had herself to blame, and now it was up to her to try to sort out the mess she had made. The car clock said it was still only ten o'clock. This time yesterday she had been coming home to find the postcard. She couldn't believe that so much could happen in twenty-four hours.

She had a huge desire to be at home, to be sitting in her sunny kitchen with a cup of tea, to be with her children. She wanted to see William, to try and sort things out. To say she was so sorry.

The miles passed quickly but Claire longed for them to pass faster. William would be hungover she was sure, maybe still asleep. Would he ever forgive her? Maybe this was the chance they needed to start really communicating with each other. Maybe William would begin to understand what she had been trying to say about the house and his obsession with it. They could both try harder, try to change things, make things better.

The country roads were still white with a thick hoarfrost as she drove towards the village. The branches on the trees glittered around her like a Christmas card scene.

As she approached a thin mist fell, turning the sun into a shrouded hazy ball. The mist grew thicker as she passed Sally's house, last night's bonfire was still smouldering on the village green, adding to the haze. Claire decided to go home before picking up the children so that she could talk to William without the threat of interruptions. She needed to see him as soon as possible.

As she turned the corner to start the climb up the hill she saw something out of place. At first she thought it was a cloud, a long black cloud, but then she realised that clouds were rarely vertical. Instead, a plume of thick black smoke stretched high into the sky and a spike of bright orange shot up through it, followed by another. Claire's heart clenched. Fear took over and she blindly accelerated upwards, desperately hoping it was just a farmer in a nearby field burning tyres.

By the time she was halfway up the hill she knew it was her home.

Flames leapt up from the thatched roof and burst out of the windows as they shattered. Smoke rolled out behind the flames and poured down the walls. Most of the village seemed to be gathered at the end of Claire's drive and three fire engines filled the front garden. Men in yellow uniforms ran around the house pointing hoses in all directions. The crowd beside the drive parted as Claire's car screeched to a halt.

As she opened the door heat, smoke and noise hit her. Loud bangs and cracks like gunshots exploded out of the burning building and she could feel the intense heat on her face as she almost fell out of the car in her panic.

She could hear someone shouting hysterically, ‘The children, the children, where are the children?' and then she realised it was her own voice.

Looking around she saw only horror and pity on her neighbours' faces. A fireman appeared and started to move back the throng of people.

‘Is this your house?' he asked Claire.

‘My children are in there,' Claire screamed above the noise. She tried to push him towards the house. ‘Get them out! You've got to get them out!'

‘It's all right,' he said, taking her gently by the arm. ‘We've got them safe. They're up here.' He led her to the orchard where she could see Oliver and Emily huddled, frightened and shaking, next to Sally, who was holding a howling Ben. Beside her stood Josh, looking horrified, and on Sally's other side a soot-blackened Gareth, with his arms around the boys who stood frozen and unmoving for once. They all looked grey as they stared at the burning scene.

With a surge of relief, Claire ran to them. ‘Thank God.

Thank God,' she said over and over again. She gathered Emily and Oliver into her arms and clung to them. They were all crying, including Sally and Gareth. She took Ben from Sally and hugged him, burying her face into his neck to try to find the smell of him she loved so much. All she could smell was smoke.

‘You've got this chap here to thank for them being safe,' the fireman said, pointing with his thumb at Gareth. ‘He saw them at an upstairs window and he somehow got them down. I can't think how – it's quite a drop. Climbed up the rosebush on to the porch he said.'

‘I didn't find your note till it was too late,' said Sally through her tears. ‘I only found it when I came to the front door when I heard the fire engines go by. I don't know what would have happened if Gareth hadn't been driving past to bring the boys home. They'd been so dreadful with him that he decided to bring them back early.'

Claire's stomach heaved; she fought back the urge to be sick. She tried to force the thought of what could have happened into the back of her mind. It was too much to take in. The bad dream had turned into a nightmare now. When would she wake up? All she wanted to do was wake up.

She knew she'd brought this about herself, by her own selfish behaviour. How could she have left the children?

‘Is Dad with you?' Emily shouted to her above the noise.

‘William?' she said frantically looking around her. ‘Where's William? Have you seen him?'

Sally shook her head. ‘We thought he was with you,'

Oliver lifted his face from the depths of Claire's coat. ‘I couldn't find you, Mum,' he said. ‘The smoke alarm was going off. It woke us up. I shouted and shouted. We looked in your bedroom but you weren't there. I thought Dad was with you. I thought you'd both gone out.'

‘I wouldn't have left you on your own.' Claire could hardly bear to think of how the children must have felt, thinking they had been abandoned in a burning house. Nausea swept over her again with the realisation that William must still be inside. Her head swam, and she clung harder on to the children to stop herself from falling.

‘Then Dad is still in there?' Oliver cried out. He tried to break away from Claire, as if to run towards the burning building. Sally held on to him. He struggled wildly, but Sally's arms were strong.

‘There's someone in the building,' the fireman spoke urgently into his walkie-talkie.

‘OK. We're going in,' came the crackled reply.

‘The fire was well established by the time we got here,' the fireman said. ‘We think it must have started on the ground floor. We had no idea anyone was still in there.'

‘Dad!' Oliver was screaming again and again. ‘Dad, Dad!'

Emily started screaming his name too: ‘Daddy, Daddy!' Their cries cut through Claire like knives. She couldn't bear it.

‘I know where he is,' she said. ‘I'm going to get him out.' She kicked off her gold high heels, thrust Ben into the fireman's arms, and started to run.

‘Claire, no!' Sally tried to grab her but she pulled away.

‘Hey!' the fireman shouted behind her.

Suddenly everything was silent; smoky air rushed past her. She found herself moving across the grass towards the house, her legs running faster than they ever had. Heat seemed to swallow her up. The burning house sucked her inside and then it was dark – pitch black. Hot, thick, poisonous air was all around her. She pulled her coat up over her mouth as she pushed through splintered shards of glass left in the French windows. She knew her feet were being cut but she felt no pain. Orange lights glowed and shifted in the darkness. It was very quiet. Claire dropped to her knees, one hand over her mouth. She daren't take a breath. Her eyes burned and she closed them tightly, inching forward trying to get her bearings. How far to the sofa? Surely not so far? Her hand touched something soft on the floor, she groped out further. It was an arm, then a hand. It must be William. She managed to get to her feet and started to pull. He was heavy; much heavier than she had expected.

‘Come on,' she said inside her head. ‘You're not going to do this to me, William. You're getting out. I'm getting you out.' She heaved and he moved an inch or two in her direction.

‘That's it,' she thought. ‘You're coming with me. I'll not let you go like this.' She heaved again.

A huge blast broke the silence, a bright white flash lighting up the darkness. In an instant she was surrounded by crashing and cracking. Tiny hot red stars fell like confetti around her and then larger chunks of burning timber started cascading down on top of her. She inched William towards her again and then a colossal bang came from above. The ceiling was falling. Through squinted eyes she saw flames encircling her arm. Her coat was on fire. She heaved again and was filled with an overwhelming energy and strength.

She was at the door and dragging William's inert body over the threshold when a huge crash seemed to shake the entire structure of the house. She felt herself being pulled from behind. She wasn't holding William's arm any more, she was gliding weightless, floating above the ground, flying over the burning house, up above the children, the crowds, and fire engines above the smoke and flames. A man was talking to her, touching her face softly.

‘Stefan,' she said and opened her eyes.

‘No, I'm Mike. I'm a paramedic,' the man said. ‘I'm going to try to get you into the ambulance now.'

Claire looked around. She was laying on the grass, her arm wrapped in something wet and cold. She tried to take a breath and immediately started coughing.