Kerry Barnes - The Choice

As Torvic looked up at the man, he glared with dark, menacing eyes, from which the firefighter recoiled in surprise. If looks could kill.

As fit as a man in his twenties, Torvic, now in his advanced years, still managed very easily to jump to his feet and lean into the firefighter’s personal space, and growl, ‘Just tell me if my granddaughter was in that fucking fire!’

The firefighter stepped away from the demonic eyes of the evil-looking gentleman. He’d been used to aiding desperate relatives who were helpless to save a loved one from a fire, but never in his career had the anger been aimed at him; he could almost taste the fury emanating from the man. Then he wondered if this was no ordinary citizen and he’d just walked into some dangerous feud, because, right now, the guy was saying someone would be held accountable.

‘I’ll talk with the other firefighters and the police.’ His manner changed, became more assertive, to demonstrate he was in charge. ‘What is your granddaughter’s name? And you think she could be inside?’

Torvic twisted his head. ‘Just fucking find out if there’s a body in there, will you?’ He stepped away and ran his hands down the back of his neck. His whole body shook with an overwhelming sense of grief mixed with rage – an intense feeling that he was hard-pressed to hold down. If his granddaughter was in that caravan, then he would take the Regans, the Lanigans, and that bitch Zara to the fire of hell and make them see what the Devil was really capable of.

It didn’t take long before the fire was out and for the occupants of every caravan to form a crowd, just to be nosey. None of them cared if that towering ball of fire was Jackie’s cremation; it would just be another month’s worth of gossip for them. The police arrived and pushed the crowd back; they tried to cordon off the area so that the special investigation unit could have access before the scene was tampered with. Normally, Torvic would have shielded his face and made a swift exit but not today. Today, he’d lost any concerns for his liberty; he had to know if Tiffany was in that fire.

The body of bustling firefighters and police suddenly stepped aside as four special fire investigators made their way through. The tall firefighter who had spoken with Torvic then talked to the police officers.

They nodded and made their way over to Torvic. Phil, the older one of the two, gently tapped his arm.

‘Sir, could you help us, here? The firefighter said you suspect a young woman was inside that caravan.’

As Torvic turned to face Phil, his eyes were red and angry. ‘Yes,’ he hissed, ‘my granddaughter. Now, I want to know if anyone can fucking tell me if she was in that fire!’

Like the firefighter, Phil was taken aback. ‘Er, sir, we are investigating that now. Please would you come with me? I do believe the ambulance is on its way. Let’s get you checked over and I’ll organize a cup of tea for you.’

Torvic frowned at the officer. ‘Tea? I don’t want fucking tea or checking over. I’m fine. Just talk to me when you know if there was a body in that caravan!’

The firefighters continued to spray the surrounding areas, soaking the neighbouring caravans, in case sparks led to the fire spreading. Jackie’s caravan was now a black skeleton. The gasps and mumblings from the crowd pricked Torvic’s ears.

He pushed his way through to look for himself. And, shockingly, there as clear as day were the charred remains of a body. The sight was sickening, and even the toughest of the gypsies had to turn away. One threw up on the spot. The police and the firefighters tried to push the crowd back, but they were reluctant to go until they’d seen the evidence for themselves. Two teenagers even pulled out their phones and started to film the devastation, zooming in on the burned body. No doubt that video would go viral.

Phil tried to urge the older man away. ‘Sir, come with me.’

‘Get ya fucking hands off me!’

‘Please, sir, we need to clear the area, to do our job, and to get you your answers. You said you think your granddaughter was inside. Are you sure?’

Torvic didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the horrific sight of the blackened, hairless body with the unrecognizable face. In his mind, he was trying to interpret the shape as anything other than a body, but it was so clearly the remains of one. A thought occurred to him that if it was his Tiffany, then he would see the heavy gold chain around her neck or the gold watch on her wrist, but there was nothing that resembled those, only blackened remains. Suddenly, he glared as a firefighter went up to the body, blocking his view. Torvic, though, wanted to have a closer look, but he was held back by another firefighter.

Torvic blinked and came out of his trance. His eyes diverted to the fire investigators who were kneeling down by what had once been the door. They were spraying something over the areas where the handle and the lock were. Then the penny dropped. He knew they were checking to see if the door was in the locked position. Torvic shrugged the man off him and then focused on the bright-red fire blanket that covered who he assumed was his granddaughter. Now the pieces suddenly fitted together. She had been at the door, frightened out of her life, and the fucking thing had been locked. Jackie had locked her in. He suddenly had a hopeful thought. Perhaps Tiffany had locked Jackie in. Yes, that must be it. Tiffany had locked her in.

As he turned to storm away, Phil clutched his arm again. ‘Sir, we need to ask you a few questions.’

Torvic shook his head, shrugged the officer off, and marched towards his car.

Just as Phil was about to call after the scary old guy, a big-bellied gypsy accosted him. He came so close, Phil could smell the garlic from his breath.

‘I know who was in that caravan. Her name’s Jackie Menaces. She probably got pissed and set the van alight, mate.’

Phil stepped back to get a clearer look at the man who was in his face. ‘Do you know the woman? Only …’ – he pointed to the wild man who was about to get into his car – ‘that gentleman wanted to know if it was his granddaughter in the caravan.’

Torvic stopped in his tracks and turned to face them.

The chubby traveller, with a toothless grin, shook his head. ‘Nah, it was Jackie. I saw her through the window earlier.’

‘Was anyone else with her?’ asked Phil.

‘Nah, I only saw her walking around in her caravan. She’s a pisshead. She likes a good drink, that one.’

‘Are you sure no one else was with her?’

The toothless gypsy nodded his head. ‘I tell ya, it was Jackie Menaces in that van. Ask me missus. She saw her an’ all. We were coming back from feeding the horses, and as we walked past her van, me ol’ gal, said, “Look at her. She’s got a glass of vodka in her hand already.”’

‘Are you positive it was Jackie Menaces, though?’

‘Cor, yeah. ’Course I’s sure. I ain’t blind. We all knows Jax. She’s the local slut.’

Phil frowned. ‘And how do you know it was vodka she was drinking?’

The gypsy laughed. ‘’Cos that’s what she always drinks – morning, noon, and night.’

‘And your name, sir?’

‘Jericho. Me missus is Mena. That’s her, over there.’

Phil nodded and gingerly stepped towards the large woman, who was clearly shaken up. Her face was pale, and her eyes were turned down at the sides, red-rimmed and glazed over.

‘Your husband said you saw Jackie Menaces in the caravan before the fire. Is that correct? And is there anything else you can remember?’

Mena swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from her top lip. ‘All I saw through Jackie’s window – she don’t have nets up, see – was her standing with a large glass tumbler in her hand. It was clear liquid. The gal never drinks water, so I guessed it was vodka.’ Her voice cracked. ‘She has a son, little Richard Menaces. Sorry, I mean Ricky Regan.’