Kerry Barnes - The Choice

As if someone had turned a light on, she felt a sudden overwhelming sense of loyalty – to Mike. She placed the remains of the partially lit cigarette on the ashtray and gripped the envelope containing the money. Her heart was beating fast, mainly through fear, but it was laced with excitement. With her thoughts so fixed on getting away and running to Mike – to the only man who had cared for her, even if it had been many years ago – she didn’t bother to check to see if Tiffany was okay. She opened the door, and through force of habit, she locked it behind her. Since she had nothing on her mind now except how she would wangle this situation in her favour, she knew she needed to think of a way that would look as though she’d planned to help Mike.

Over the years, the decking around her caravan had sunk into the ground, and she jolted her back as she slipped on the wooden surface that was wet from a recent heavy rainstorm. Holding in her urge to curse, she straightened herself and headed for the car park while looking around for curtain twitchers or nosey bastards as she called her neighbours. A few yards away, on a small gravel area, was where the gypsy residents parked their vehicles. One of them, the tattiest, was Tatum’s. She knew he was still inside Maidstone Prison. He’d always kept his keys just inside the driver’s wheel. It was a habit of his. She hoped the car would start after a year of standing idle. Glancing around one more time, she crouched down onto the ground and felt around the tyre. Sure enough, the keys were there. Quietly, she unlocked the car.

After she climbed in, she put the key in the ignition and listened to the noisy exhaust; it was just another reminder that this car had once been the envy of the site. But now, it was an old rust bucket, and, what was worse, it didn’t even belong to her anymore. She’d sold it to Tatum. All she had to her name was the car that Torvic had shot off in and her poxy caravan. Still, Tatum’s car was her only way of escaping the madness with Torvic and perhaps into the open arms of Mike, although she would have to work on that part.

The car jolted and shuddered as it warmed up, the engine backfired, and then she tore away, across the gravel towards a gap in the hedge that led to the narrow lane.

* * *

The cigarette rolled away from the overfilled ashtray and landed on the pile of court summonses and police charge sheets, causing the gentle flame, that, within seconds, climbed to great heights. The book on the table that Jackie had wanted to read, one of several from her dated collection, caught alight and fuelled the fire that was now threatening to engulf everything in its way. Tumbling to the floor, the book fell apart, and the flames licked the pages, resulting in them floating towards the low ceiling and catching alight the spiderwebs and trapped dust. The fire instantly latched on to the peeling ceiling wallpaper. Like a circle of fire, ready for a circus act, the fierce flames rose and grew in intensity, filling the room with deadly smoke and devouring everything in their path.

Tiffany coughed and tried to breathe, but as her eyes opened to the horror, panic set in. In desperation, she gasped for oxygen, but all that filled her burning lungs were toxic fumes. With her T-shirt now covering her mouth, she scrambled along the floor towards the door, but as she tried to turn the handle and push her way out, she found her only exit was locked. With the smoke now burning her eyes and her throat, she tried frantically again, but it was no use. She bashed and banged and clawed at the door, desperate to get away from the smoke, the heat, and the naked flames. But it was impossible: the harder she tried, the harder it was to breathe. On all fours, she coughed and struggled, the smoke and the flames consuming any oxygen in her body and the heat blistering her skin. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t escape. She knew she was about to die.

* * *

The car choked and spluttered, causing Jackie to curse. Boom!

‘Fuck! What was that?’

Jackie slammed on the brakes. The sound was behind her, yet it was so loud, she could feel the vibration. In her rear-view mirror, she could see the red flames just visible above the hedgerows. Perhaps the lads had burned out another car. Maybe she should get them to take her old banger away and burn it out for the insurance money when Torvic brought it back. Then she remembered she didn’t have insurance anyway.

Just as she approached the end of the lane to turn right, she saw a flash-looking motor; it was heading towards her, and as soon as it was close enough, she recognized the driver. It was Torvic. Her heart rate increased, and her palms instantly became wet, making gripping the steering wheel so much harder. She couldn’t hang around though; she needed to get away. Torvic wasn’t like Mike. He had no scruples, and she’d got the sense that he could easily get rid of her. And did he really intend to pay her the rest of the money? She thought not. She also wondered if she would ever see her car again.

As Torvic slowed down to turn left, she shot out and put her foot down. The force of the turn made her swerve, yet she wasn’t going to stop now. She had to get away. As soon as she’d straightened the car, she looked again in the mirror, and her heart rate slowed down. With a deep breath, she sighed. He’d obviously gone straight to the caravan. Perhaps he hadn’t recognized her in Tatum’s car. For after all, it was dark.

* * *

The sound of a fire engine from the distance suddenly had Torvic feeling unusually on edge. Then he saw the flames towering above the bushes, and his heart was in his mouth. The dreaded thought that the woman speeding away from the site might have been Jackie charged through his mind. If that was her, why was she leaving? He’d given her precise instructions to look after his granddaughter. Putting his foot down, he left a trail of dust behind him. As soon as he reached the gravel car parking area and saw the caravan ablaze, his head felt like it was on fire. His breathing increased, and panic gripped him hard around the throat. He rushed from the car and ran towards the towering inferno, where he was met by two men.

‘Slow down, mate. That thing could explode,’ said one of them, grabbing Torvic’s arm.

Torvic tried to shrug the man off. ‘My granddaughter might be inside that fucking caravan!’

The old man, dressed in just his jeans and a black vest, let him go, but as soon as Torvic tried to get near the caravan, the intensity of the heat forced him back. With his hands over his eyes, he tried again, but it was no use. The structure was a ball of flames. No one would have survived in there. His granddaughter, if she was inside, would be a fragile bunch of charred bones.

‘Noooo!’ he screamed, at the top of his voice.

But his desperate cries of pain were drowned out by the fire engine’s sirens. The two older men dragged the helpless, crumpled man away from the heat.

Two firemen were making their way to the blaze with a hose and pushing people aside. A well-built firefighter approached Torvic and helped him to his feet.

‘Is this your caravan, sir?’

With his face covered in beads of sweat and his hairline singed, Torvic shook his head.

‘No, but I think my granddaughter is in there. Please …’

The firefighter looked back at the red glowing ball, and suddenly, like a sardine can, the walls peeled back, revealing nothing standing of any recognizable shape. Torvic felt his legs buckle and allowed the man to lower him gently to the ground.

‘Sir, we’ll have a paramedic here soon!’

‘You what? Fucking hell, no one could have … Oh my God! No one would’ve survived that fire. What use is a fucking paramedic?’

A sad smile inched its way across the large firefighter’s face. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I meant for you.’