BLINDFOLD (24 page)

The next moment, humour of any kind was extinct.

The window wasn't there.

Gideon groped his way sideways along the wall on a rising tide of panic. It had to be there. He couldn't see more than eighteen inches in any direction. It could be just an arm's-length away.

But which way? It was all taking too long.

His chest and throat were contracting from lack of air and as he paused, trying to think logically, his overwhelming urge was to sit down and rest for a moment.

Move, damn it! he scolded himself. You've got to move, for Jez's sake. She can't be left where she is.

Coughing hard now, he forced his leaden limbs into action, trying not to give room to the thought that pushed insistently at the edge of his mind, whipping up panic once more.

What if it's the wrong wall?

It had to be the right one. He'd always had a better than average sense of direction and this was definitely not the time to start overriding it. And, given that it was the right wall, he must be nearer to the right-hand end of it than the left. So, if he worked his way to the right and couldn't find it, then he'd just have to work his way back left-handed until he did. No point in admitting that the smoke was almost certain to beat him before he completed this methodical search.

No point at all.

Such was the woolly state of his mind that he'd moved two arm's-lengths sideways before he remembered that the window was just above head height, and if he carried on feeling his way along as he was, he would miss it anyway. Cursing his stupidity, he stretched his left hand upward and felt - nothing!

It took another long moment for this to penetrate his senses, and when it did, the surge of joy was stifled by a sudden frustrated despair. He may have found the window but with the straw bale stepping-stone just so much crumbling ash beneath his feet, and limbs that felt as though they were weighed down with lead, the aperture might as well be six feet above his head as six inches.

Every time he coughed he inhaled another lungful of smoke and it was steadily killing him.

He just hadn't the strength.

Head bowed and eyes screwed tight against the smoke-induced agony, Gideon leaned weakly against the wall and thumped it helplessly with his fist. Shouting was beyond him, even if he could have made himself heard over the roaring blaze. And even had there been anyone to hear.

Then, suddenly, desperation gave way to resignation and a relief of sorts. He could stop struggling. It was all right; no one would blame him. He'd done all he could. And somebody would find Jez, surely. Wouldn't they?

There was nothing he could do but sit down and wait for it all to be over.

It was the water that stopped him.

A jet of it shot through the window above him just as he was about to release his hold on the sill. Shockingly cold, some of it hit the frame and cascaded down over his head and shoulders.

It was too much.

Gideon put both hands up to try and ward off the deluge and, incredibly, a strong, gloved fist closed around one of them and pulled.

TEN

IT WAS A LONG TIME before he stopped coughing. In the period of time between his lowering Jez from the window and being pulled from it himself, the field behind the stables had become host to two fire engines, an ambulance and a large, powerful-looking private car.

The firefighter who hauled him out had handed him over to a fluorescent-green-jacketed paramedic, who removed Gideon's own somewhat charred waxed jacket and immediately cocooned him in a shiny silver blanket. He was then led past the vast red and silver bulk of the busy fire engine, sat down on the back step of a waiting ambulance and had an oxygen mask held over his nose and mouth. Gideon drew in one or two shuddering gasps of the blessedly sweet gas, coughed and then pushed the mask aside to speak.

No words came, only an unintelligible croak. The medic put the plastic firmly back in place.

`Don't try to talk, okay?' he advised. `Don't worry about the kid. She's on her way to hospital already. She's going to be all right. She's a tough one. I guess she owes you, too. Big time!' Gideon closed his eyes thankfully and tried to concentrate on

his breathing. All around him he could hear the bustle and noise of the emergency crews in action and even through his closed eyelids the rhythmic blue light flashed, but he was content just to sit and let it all wash over him. His arms and legs felt boneless and shaky, his chest was tight and his eyes on fire. There was nothing he could usefully do except keep out of the way and the thought was bliss.

`Breathing any easier yet?' the paramedic enquired after a while. Gideon opened his eyes and nodded. `Better all the time,' he croaked.

`No other injuries that you're aware of?'

He shook his head. Scrapes and bruises he probably had aplenty but nothing of significance. As a matter of fact, aside from the smoke-induced discomfort, his shoulder was bothering him the most. Being hauled out of the stable window by his wrists had done little to further the healing process.

`Best have a look at those hands, then,' the medic suggested, removing the oxygen mask and producing dressings and bandages from a box.

Gideon looked down in surprise. His hands, when he turned them palm up, were indeed looking decidedly the worse for wear; blackened, bleeding in places from cuts and grazes, and blistering wetly. He held them out obediently.

Around him, the noise and bustle seemed to have abated a little. The shouts were a little less urgent, movement a little slower and the sky a shade or two darker as the flames died down. The pump was still powering on and the resultant jet poured salvation on to what was left of the buildings in a beautiful silvery stream. Sulky black smoke billowed up into the evening sky as the flames gradually gave up the battle. Already a wet, dank smell was beginning to pervade the air.

`I think those'll do for now,' the medic said, winding bandage over the second dressing. `This gel should stay cold for about four hours. They'll re-do the dressings later, when we get you to hospital.'

`Er, I'd rather not, if you don't mind. I'll be needed here.'

`I don't think so, mate. Hospital's the best place for you right now.'

`But I'm okay. It'd be a waste of time,' Gideon asserted. `These feel great. Really soothing.'

`It'll wear off though, and you've inhaled a lot of smoke; you'd be wise to get yourself checked over.'

`But I don't have to, right?'

`I'm not going to force you, if that's what you mean. I can only advise,' he confirmed, shaking his head. `But smoke inhalation is dangerous. You could experience breathing difficulties later, and my advice is that you should get along to Casualty as soon as you can. The quickest way is obviously with us. But whatever you do, get those hands looked at by your GP in the morning.'

`Thanks. I will,' Gideon said gratefully, and succumbed to another bout of coughing.

A shadow fell across them as somebody approached. The ambulance man stood up, shaking his head once more, and melted into the background.

`Station Officer Hanley,' the bulky silhouette introduced itself. `How are you doing?'

`Oh, not so bad, thanks to you guys,' Gideon told him, in a voice that at last sounded something like his own, if only barely. `It was a close-run thing, though.'

`You were certainly lucky,' Hanley agreed. `But, tell me, what on earth made you go back after you got the girl out?'

Gideon was surprised. `How did you know I had?'

`Old gentleman from down the road was watching the fire and saw you lower the girl out of the window and then disappear again. He came across and pulled the girl away from the building, then came to find us. Luckily for you, we were on our way round, looking for the little girl. We couldn't get close enough at the front.'

`Me neither,' Gideon said. `The thing is, the kid went in to try and save the fawn and she wouldn't leave without it. I had to promise I'd go back for it.'

`I take it you were too late.'

`Its back was broken. I put it out of its misery.'

`You know it was a bloody silly thing to do? Going back, I mean.

`Tell me about it,' Gideon said wearily.

Hanley put a hand on his shoulder. `If it's any consolation, I'd have done just the same, and I guess that goes for most of the lads too, but we'd have had BA - Breathing Apparatus,' he added, remembering he was talking to a layman.

`If I'd known you were so close on my heels, I'd have waited. I've no desire to play the hero, I can tell you!'

`Well, there's one little girl who's glad you did anyway,' the paramedic said, coming back unheard. `I've just been in touch with my colleague and he says she's conscious and recovering well. But a few minutes later ... Who knows?'

`Is she badly hurt?'

`I don't know, mate, but she's out of danger.' `And the others? Is everyone else all right?' `All accounted for, I understand.'

Gideon sighed, his most immediate worries laid to rest. If Naomi, Tim and Jez were safe, then the other inevitable problems could be dealt with in due course.

One of the firefighters came up to claim Hanley's attention and he drifted away, warning Gideon that he might want to ask him one or two questions later.

`Is there something suspicious, then?'

Hanley pursed his lips. Just routine, sir, that's all. Unless you know something?' His gaze intensified.

Gideon shook his head, coughing again. He knew nothing. `You should get along to hospital.'

`Yeah, so I'm told.'

It was another half an hour or so before the fire was pronounced under control, and the damping down operation carried on for a long time after that.

Having thanked the paramedics and assured them at least twice more that he really didn't need a trip to the hospital for a checkup, Gideon made his way round to the yard to see what the position was there. The ambulance crew, their job done, departed for base and, no doubt, many other urgent calls before their shift was through.

It was by now almost completely dark, and in the yard, someone, presumably the firemen, had rigged up a powerful spotlight to illuminate the scene. By its light Gideon could see a little of the havoc wrought by the blaze.

The mood of the fire crew had changed now from one of brisk determination to workaday cheerfulness. The fire was as good as out; human casualties were nil and animal casualties apparently low. It was a job well done. The destruction of property was something they saw day in and day out, regrettable but not their problem.

· They methodically doused any and all combustible materials within reach of their hoses that could possibly be suspected of harbouring a spark. Water was everywhere. It poured on to the still-smoking roofs of the stables and animal cages, and through the roof and windows of the blackened mobile home and farmhouse beyond. It deluged the hay shed and its contents, which had survived mainly intact, and lay all around in huge, muddy pools, reflecting the blue flashing lights.

As Gideon stood on the edge of the lighted section, trying to assimilate the scale of the destruction and also scanning the area for Tim and Naomi, somebody touched his elbow. He turned to see a diminutive lady with a shawl over her head and a basket on her arm.

He blinked. She looked like a refugee from a children's fairy tale.

`I didn't know if you'd have electric so I brought a thermos,' the apparition said, looking anxiously up at Gideon who was wondering if he should know who she was. `Tea,' she added helpfully. `If you'd like it.'

He gathered his wits. `More than anything,' he assured her with a smile. Anything, that was, except a good stiff measure of spirits. Ali, well.

`Gideon!' Naomi materialised out of the darkness beside him. `Are you okay? One of the firemen said you nearly got buried alive in the old stables!'

`It wasn't quite as dramatic as all that,' he protested. Jez went in looking for the fawn and I got a bit singed getting her out. She had a far narrower escape than I did.'

Naomi took hold of his arms and pulled his bandaged hands forward. `Oh, yes? And the rest! Still, I'm just so glad you're all right.' She wrapped him in a huge hug and added, into his jumper, `I can't afford to lose my big brother. He's the only one I've got!'

Gideon returned the hug, more moved than he would have cared to admit but unable to think of any reply that wouldn't make him cringe in retrospect. `And what about you? Are you all right, Sis? Really?'

`Yes, I'll be okay. Just bone weary,' she said, standing back and summoning a brave smile.

`And Tim? Where's he?'

`He's over by the surgery with the birds and smaller animals. He's okay.'

`Well, this kind lady - I'm sorry, I don't know your name - has brought us a thermos of tea,' Gideon said.

`Rose,' the lady put in. `My name's Rose Callow. I live just down the lane there. My husband, George, was the one who helped the little girl.'

`Oh, is he here?' Gideon glanced round. `I'd like to thank him.'

Rose shook her head. `No, he's gone home to sit down. His heart's not too good and he needed to rest after all the excitement.'

Gideon began to express his sympathy but was cut short by a commotion at the entrance to the yard, where at least three

policemen were struggling to deny access to a rather large individual who appeared desperate to gain entry. He watched for a moment and then recognition dawned.

`It's all right,' he called out, making his way over. `He's the girl's brother.'

He was obliged to repeat himself before the officers took in the information and reluctantly released their hold on the blond giant. This they did cautiously, as if afraid that, once free, their captive would turn on them.

Joey had other matters on his mind. `What's going on? Where's Jez? She was supposed to meet me down the lane.'

`But you were late, weren't you?' Gideon stated coldly. After all, ifJoey had picked the child up at the appointed time she would have been gone long before the fire even started. `And while she was waiting she saw the smoke and came back.'

`Your sister, is it, sir?' one of the policemen enquired, keen to regain his position of authority. `Yes, well, I'm afraid she was taken to hospital about half an hour ago. Smoke inhalation, of course. Apart from that, I can't say.'