The Moon Spun Round (45 page)

The second man steps forward from the shadows. Sally recognizes him, would know that arrogant sneer anywhere, despite the shaven head and the hare lip. ‘She’s guilty, sir,’ says Ayden. ‘The witch is as guilty as sin.’

It’s past midnight and, again, Ayden’s van is parked outside Naomi’s workshop. The light is on in the flat above, so they must be in there, Claire and that bitch. He has tried to stay away, even watched the match on telly. Chelsea were playing. But he couldn’t concentrate; his mind kept shifting to this place. He’s lost count of the times he’s done this. Just sat here, watching the window. This time he’ll get out of the car and go across to the door. This time
he’ll
give the
orders. He’ll
drag
her out of there if he has to. She’s his wife, he has the right. One more cigarette and then…But he knows it will be like all the other times. He’ll sit here until he’s numb with cold and his back’s stiff and his legs cramped, then he’ll drive back to the dump that used to be his home.

He almost falls asleep, cigarette in his hand. It drops on the floor as he jolts awake, and now he’s having to reach around in the dark for it. It is the noise that has startled him. It wakes a lot of other people, too. Late at night in a Suffolk village you don’t often hear the wailing of sirens. Ayden guesses it is a fire engine.

And he is right.

N
AOMI RUNS THE LENGTH
of the hall and slams open the door to the room where Claire is still sleeping soundly. For a moment she stands, looking as if she’s trying to run in three directions at once, then she dives onto the bed and starts to shake Claire’s shoulder. ‘Wake up! You’ve got to wake up.’

‘Oh God, it’s not that time already, is it?’

‘No. I mean yes, it is. But something’s happened. It was on the news and I thought it couldn’t be your place, so I rang Fran and she rang someone else, then called back and said it was yours and it’s really bad.’

‘What are you talking about? What’s going on?’ Claire wrestles herself out of the bedclothes and into an upright position.

Naomi, still in flight-or-fight mode, steps back to give her space. ‘I so much don’t want to tell you this, but you’ve got to know.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Your house. Last night. There was a fire.’

‘Oh.’

‘No, I mean it. A real fire. They said it was completely burnt out.’

‘Oh, I see. What day is it?’

‘I don’t know, er, Saturday. Do you understand what I said? There’s been a fire at your house.’

‘Right.’ Claire stares blankly for a moment, trying to get her head around what Naomi is saying. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’

‘I was just making it when—’

‘What’s that you’re wearing? And what
have
you got on your feet?’

‘What?’ Naomi looks down at herself. Her long, showgirl legs end in a matched
pair of huge, green frogs with bulging eyes. She’s also wearing a T-shirt with the slogan ‘Witches do it on a broomstick’ emblazoned across the front. ‘They were a Christmas present.’ As if that explains everything. She pushes her wild hair out of her face. ‘I thought…I mean, I was going to wake you up and…That was before…I’ll go and make the tea.’ Halfway down the hall to the kitchen she can still hear Claire laughing.

The street is awash. It looks more as if there’s been a flood than a fire. A few firemen are moving around the front garden. Dressed in their heavy protective clothing, they look like cartoon characters. A fire engine is still parked outside, along with an official fire service van and a police car. The police officer is talking with one of the firemen, who’s holding a clipboard, and they’re standing either side of a strip of yellow plastic tape that cordons off the property.

The smell of smoke is all over the village. Sally and Claire join the straggle of villagers on the opposite side of the road. As usual, people have come to gawp. The place is gutted, broken glass everywhere, tiles off the roof. The neighbour’s kids are more interested in the fire engine.

Claire stands with her hands in her pockets. The flower beds either side of the front path have been trampled by big fireman boots—this is the only thing that seems to cause her any distress. The rest of it she gazes at with detached curiosity like any other sightseer. Naomi is beside her, clutching at the sleeve of Claire’s coat, twisting the material between her fingers.

‘Odd, isn’t it,’ says Claire, ‘all those smoke marks above the windows, like big black fans. I suppose they were caused by the heat flaring upwards when the windows blew out.’

‘Oh, Claire, this wasn’t supposed to happen.’ Naomi is struggling with tears, rubbing her face with the heel of her hand. ‘Your lovely house, all your furniture.’

Claire steps off the pavement and crosses to what used to be her front path. Naomi follows close behind, looking along the road in both directions. Ayden’s company van is parked a few yards away, but there’s no sign of him. A neighbour stands on her doorstep, dressing gown wrapped tightly around her against the cold. Claire raises a hand to her, a gesture that’s almost a wave. The woman bites her lip, her face creased with concern.

The men in uniform look around as Claire and Naomi approach the yellow tape. ‘I’m sorry, madam, you can’t go in there.’

‘But it’s her house.’ Naomi is indignant. ‘Surely—’

‘Ah, Mrs…’ The fireman looks at his clipboard.

‘Drayton. I’m Claire Drayton.’

‘Ah, yes, Mrs Drayton. Even so, I’m afraid I can’t let you go any nearer. It’s not safe in there, you see.’

‘Believe me, it never was.’

He exchanges a puzzled look with the police officer, who coughs politely and turns to her.

‘I know this is a bad time, Mrs Drayton, but could I just clarify a few matters with you? Mr Drayton said there’s only himself in residence.’

‘That’s right. I’ve been living with my friend here.’ Claire lays a hand on Naomi’s arm.

‘So, when was the last time you were in the house?’

‘Oh, several weeks ago now. I had no intention of returning.’

‘I see. And could you tell me where you were last night, around midnight?’

‘We were at home, watching television.’

‘There was a late film on we both wanted to watch.’ Naomi tries not to sound defensive; she’s guilt-laden enough without this interrogation.

‘And was Mr Drayton with you?’

‘Ayden? No. I haven’t spoken to my husband since…since I left.’

‘So, he didn’t visit you last night, then?’

‘No. Why? What makes you think—’

‘Perhaps I misunderstood,’ the fireman cuts in. ‘Mr Drayton was very distressed, a bit confused maybe. He’s with the people at number fourteen, they said they’d look after him. We can sort it out later.’ But he and the police officer are exchanging looks again.

‘What happened?’ asks Naomi. ‘When did it start?’

‘The callout came just after midnight. Neighbours heard noises, probably the tiles smashing on the path. If it had been spotted sooner…These cold winter evenings, everyone indoors with the curtains drawn—you’d be amazed at how quickly a fire takes hold. We were here in ten minutes, but by then it was well ablaze. Too late to save anything much, I’m afraid. We don’t know the cause yet.’

‘So what happens now? Is there anything I should do?’

‘Well, I’ve advised Mr Drayton to contact his insurance company immediately. Considering your present circumstances, you might wish to speak with them yourself, independently. Probably be someone here shortly. With a major incident like this, they like to have a representative on the scene as soon as possible.’

‘An investigator, you mean?’ asks Claire. ‘In case of arson, I suppose.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Naomi holds her hand over her mouth.

‘Well, for everyone’s sake we need to establish the cause as quickly as possible.’ He glances at Naomi, then back to Claire. ‘There’s nothing else you need do. If you leave us your address and number, we’ll keep you informed, though I’m afraid it will be some time before the building will be safe to enter. Even then, I wouldn’t hold out much hope of recovering any personal belongings.’

Claire shakes her head. ‘There’s nothing I’d want from here anyway. But thank you both. I expect it’s been a long night.’ Claire smiles at Naomi, taking her hand, holding it tightly and giving a little tug. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

Sally is contemplating a pile of ironing. Then there’s the spare bedroom—she could make a start on that. She’s planning to strip the wallpaper and paint the walls a soft creamy yellow. Or she could make another cup of tea.

Of course she knows all about the fire. She’d woken yesterday morning to the smell, which, with the stillness of the wind, hung over the village most of the day. She’s part of the village network now and word gets around in no time, even without the five-way telephone communication that took place within minutes of Claire and Naomi returning to the flat. Naomi sounded more distressed than Claire, but refused all offers of company. Later in the morning, Sally called in at the café and found Jack’s daughter in charge and a part-time helper running the shop. Apparently Claire and Fran had gone off somewhere together. Again today, Claire has remained elusive and Naomi tearful. Cat, however, seems to be expecting a visitor. She’s on the kitchen table, sitting at attention with ears pricked forward, listening out for an approaching car. So Sally isn’t surprised to hear the sound of a vehicle drawing up outside her gate, but she doesn’t recognize the sound of the engine. A quick glance out of the window reveals an unfamiliar blue Daihatsu, but it’s Claire who gets out of the driver’s side.

‘What do you think?’

Sally has come outside to inspect the new acquisition. ‘Neat. It’s a
dear
little car.’

‘Isn’t it? Good condition for its age. And it comes with a year’s warranty.
thought it was about time I got my own transport organized. I’d hardly touched anything of that four thousand, and with a regular income now I thought it would be a good investment.’

‘That’s great. Come on in. I’ll make some tea to celebrate.’