Pauline Rowson: Blood on the Sand

With the other wet towels he crossed to Thea and shook her. The heat was growing more intense through the soles of his feet and he could hear the wood of the floors and stairs crackling. Bengal had jumped off the window ledge and had scurried under the bed.

Horton shook Thea again and gently slapped her face, trying to shake her into full consciousness.

'Wake up. We've got to get out of here,' he urged.

'My head…' She coughed as the smoke began to permeate every narrow crack in the room. He handed her a soaking towel.

'Wrap this around your mouth and nose. Come on, get up.' Roughly he hauled her up, holding the other wet towel to his face.

She slouched against him but her eyes were open and he could see her quickly taking in the situation.

'Bengal,' her muffled voice cried through the towel.

'He's under the bed. There's no time. We have to get out. Now!' The fire was already on the landing. Soon it would be licking at their door. But Thea was on her stomach, reaching under the bed.

Seeing there was nothing for it, Horton groaned and said, 'Help me shift the bed over,' otherwise they'd never get the ruddy cat and they'd all be fried alive. 'Get ready to grab him.'

The cat started violently as the bed was shoved against the wall. Horton grabbed him by the collar as he tried to scamper out, obviously scared out of his wits. He wasn't the only one.

He thrust Bengal at Thea, who swiftly wrapped the towel around him. She was coughing like mad. Horton picked up a chair and smashed the window, praising God it hadn't been double glazed. He could hear the siren of the fire engines, but he couldn't wait. It would be too late. Looking down, he saw that the fire had reached the kitchen, and had spread into the conservatory directly below them. He turned back and saw the flame coming through the door. The room was filling with thick black smoke and he could hardly breathe. Thea looked as though she was going to pass out and there was no sound or movement from the cat. They had no choice.

'Out,' he commanded, quickly clearing the jagged glass from the window with the towel wrapped around his hands. 'Slide down the roof as quick as you can and jump on to the grass.'

'I can't-'

He scooped her up, momentarily surprised at just how thin she was, plonked her on the window ledge, grabbed Bengal and pushed Thea out. She coughed, then screamed. Out of control, she slid down the roof and seemed to fall or somersault over the edge. He had no idea how she had fallen, or if she was alive or injured. Any moment now the smoke would get him.

He climbed on to the window ledge just as the roof below him collapsed inward with a great crash and billowing of smoke cutting off his escape route. The sirens were louder now; the firefighters must be outside, but he couldn't hang around to find out. With the lifeless Bengal under his arm, he saw the drainpipe to his right. It was wet and therefore probably slippery but that was the least of his problems. He'd need two hands to climb down it. Bengal was probably dead. He should leave him behind. But he couldn't. He knew Thea would never forgive him.

With Bengal under his right arm, and sitting on the window ledge facing on to the garden, he reached across his body with his left hand for the drainpipe, grabbed it, praying that it would hold, and then eased the rest of his body over the sill whilst somehow managing to slide Bengal between his chest and the wall and wrap his other hand around the drainpipe. Scrambling, sliding, stumbling, he fell down the drainpipe until Bengal slipped from his body and Horton rolled on to the ground.

He looked up to see three firefighters wearing breathing apparatus crash through the back gate. One, quickly seeing Horton, rushed towards him as the flames from the kitchen seemed to want to reach out and consume them. Horton grabbed Bengal and staggered up, marvelling that no bones were broken as the firefighter helped them both to safety.

'There's no one in there,' Horton managed to cough and splutter. The firefighter nodded his grateful thanks, and rushed away to give instructions to his colleagues. Horton gazed wildly round for Thea. Then, with overwhelming relief, he found her squatting on the grass, staring blankly at the blazing spectacle of her brother's home.

'Are you all right?' he asked. It was a stupid question — how could she be? But she was alive and so was he, which, looking at the blaze and feeling the intense heat of the fire, was a miracle.

She nodded, dazed. No bones broken either. She'd had a lucky escape and so too had he. He wasn't sure about Bengal. Unwrapping the towel he stared down at the comatose tabby cat.

'Bengal!' she croaked, her voice turning to a sob. 'Now I've got nothing.' Her words, and the anguish in them, wrenched at Horton's heart. Swiftly he crossed to one of the firefighters.

'Have you got any compressed air to give the cat? He might still be alive. She's lost everything else. Her brother died this morning.'

The firefighter hurried back to Thea with Horton. He put a mask over the cat's face and shot the compressed air into its nose and mouth. They waited. Was it too late? It seemed as if it had been an age since Bengal had lost consciousness and they'd climbed out of the window but in reality Horton guessed it was only a couple of minutes at the most. Then Bengal stirred.

'Thank you. Oh, thank you!' Thea whispered, stroking the cat, her tearful eyes radiating out of her smoke-blackened face.

Horton's heart skipped several beats. He had to fight off the urge to take her in his arms and hold her, to soothe away her pain.

'That's one of his nine lives used up,' he said, nodding his thanks to the firefighter, thinking he was using up his own at a fast rate of knots. His throat and chest hurt from smoke inhalation but not as badly as he'd once suffered. And this time, unlike his past brushes with fire, it hadn't been primarily aimed at him, but at Thea. Thank God he had responded to that sense of urgency, that gut feeling that something was wrong. He shuddered to think of the outcome if he hadn't. Anger surged through him. Holiday or not, he had to catch the bastard who had done this to her.

Forcing himself to speak gently, despite the searing rage inside him, he said, 'Who attacked you, Thea?'

'I don't know,' she answered after a moment's hesitation.

She was lying. He could see it in her eyes, and the way she hastily glanced away. He decided not to press her, there would be time enough later. Bengal struggled free from her grasp and skittered down the garden path. An ambulance man appeared with a thermal blanket.

'Bengal!' she cried, twisting round to watch the cat's vanishing tail.

'He'll be OK,' Horton quickly reassured her. Tom cats could look after themselves, and, according to Mrs Mackie next door, Bengal had been doing just that for some time. Seeing Thea's obvious distress though, he added, 'I'll ask Mrs Mackie to feed him.' She wasn't a cat lover, but surely she couldn't refuse putting out a bowl of food in the circumstances?

Thea's grateful smile turned into a cough as the ambulance man escorted her through the narrow side entrance into the street. Following them, Horton crossed to Evelyn Mackie who was hovering nearby, along with most of the neighbours, huddled under umbrellas. He managed to divert her from her verbal sympathetic onslaught on Thea and persuaded her to take pity on Bengal. To her credit Mrs Mackie agreed quickly. She also offered Thea a bed but Horton declined. If the killer was still watching Thea then it would put Mrs Mackie in danger. Not that he told her that. If his boat hadn't been broken into then he might have suggested Thea stay with him. At least he could have protected her then. But this killer had already seen he was close to Thea, and Horton couldn't take that chance.