The Skeleton Tree by Diane Janes (reading women TXT) 📕

an unpleasant smell of charred carpet filled her nostrils. The place where the fire had been was marked by an irregular blackened patch on the rug, with the soaked, charred remnants of a couple of Christmas cards lying on top. The rug was a goner, but apart from a mark on the carpet underneath, once the smoke had cleared, there was no other damage. The house, the children and everything else had been saved, but her heart was still hammering in her chest. It could so easily have been different. Imagine if Jamie had not been in the room to give an immediate alarm.

‘It’s not worth trying to claim on the insurance,’ Bruce said, as he inspected the scene. ‘We’d be better off just replacing the rug. That will hide the mark on the carpet and be cheaper than having to pay the excess on the policy. What I can’t understand is why the fireguard wasn’t in front of the fire.’

‘I suppose the last person to put a fresh log on forgot to replace the guard. But I still don’t see,’ Wendy continued, ‘how the fire got started in the first place.’

‘I should have thought that was obvious. A draught must have blown a couple of cards down off the mantel shelf and they caught light. There should never have been cards standing on there in the first place. It’s an obvious fire hazard.’

‘So obvious,’ Wendy said, ‘that you never thought to mention it until after the event.’

‘It’s no use arguing with you about how you want things arranged,’ Bruce retorted.

‘Oh, naturally it’s my fault!’ Wendy turned to Jamie, who was hovering in the hall behind them. ‘Jamie, you must have done something, just before the fire started. Were you jumping about? You won’t be in trouble – we just need to understand how it began.’

‘I wasn’t jumping about. I wasn’t even moving. I was lying on the rug, watching TV and then I heard a crackle and when I looked round, the rug was on fire, right behind my feet. I jumped up then, because I was scared my feet were going to get burned.’

‘That really can’t be true,’ Wendy said. ‘Those cards have been standing there for two or three weeks without falling down. Why would this mysterious draught happen all of a sudden this afternoon? And why would the cards bounce into the fire and then out again on to the floor? Just when the fireguard happened to be out of the way. Jamie, please tell me the truth. Did you move the fireguard after I’d left the room?’

‘No, I didn’t. I’m telling the truth. Perhaps it was the bad lady.’

‘What bad lady?’

‘The bad lady who chased Katie. In the dream. Or maybe the nasty man …’

‘That’s enough of that nonsense,’ said Bruce. ‘Why don’t you run upstairs and play for a bit while I talk to Mummy.’ He closed the door of the sitting room, closeting himself and Wendy inside. In a lower voice, he said, ‘Did you see the fireguard in place before you left the room?’

‘I don’t honestly know. It’s usually there when the kids are around. When I picture the room, I see it there, but that’s because I’m expecting to see it, if you know what I mean. But Jamie must have been responsible. Maybe he was chucking something around and it knocked the cards into the fire. Perhaps he tried to rescue them by dragging them out on to the rug, only now he’s afraid to own up. I expect it was all just an accident.’

‘Well, I hope so. Otherwise we’ve got a budding arsonist on our hands.’

‘Jamie’s not an arsonist, Bruce. Don’t overdramatize.’

‘And what’s all this about bad people?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The bad lady who chases Katie, and the nasty man.’

‘Katie must have told him about those dreams she had.’

‘You’re sure no one else has been talking about ghost stories? Putting ideas into his head?’

‘If you mean me, then of course I haven’t. Give me some credit. As if I would tell Jamie a thing like that!’

‘Do you think Katie’s still having those dreams?’

‘How on earth should I know? She hasn’t said anything to me about them and I don’t see the point in stirring it all up again by asking her. It was probably just those couple of times. Don’t forget that she woke Jamie. He probably asked her about it.’

‘I suppose so.’ Bruce looked doubtful. ‘Anyway, I suggest we go out tomorrow and see if we can replace that rug. We don’t want to sit looking at a black mark on the carpet. There might be something in the sales.’

‘What about Jamie? Shouldn’t we try to get to the bottom of how the fire started?’

‘Better to leave it. If he did it by accident, he isn’t going to admit it. If he did it on purpose … well, we might have a problem on our hands … and I suppose it could have been a freakish accident – a door closing somewhere, creating a sudden draught.’

Wendy was about to point out that no one had closed a door at just that moment, but she decided that Bruce was right. It would be best left alone.

Once the Christmas festivities were over, they didn’t use the dining room again until Bruce’s birthday in January. Wendy had cooked his favourite gammon steaks and they opened a bottle of Gran Ponte Spumante, which even Katie and Jamie were allowed to taste, using two of the little coloured liqueur glasses that Bruce had won years ago on a tombola. After they had finished eating, Bruce helped her to carry things through to the kitchen (the wheeled trolley had yet to be purchased) while the children dispersed to use the telephone, watch television and play with a racetrack respectively. When he’d placed his stack of plates safely on the draining board, Bruce turned and put his hands on Wendy’s shoulders. ‘Leave all this,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a secret to share with you.’

She smiled