Chris Cleave - Incendiary

In the spring my baby will be born in a holistic birthing centre and I will go straight back to work. My column won’t even miss a beat. Did I mention I recently won the Columnist of the Year award? And I am delighted to be able to inform my readers that I have my own television show starting next month on the BBC. Impending motherhood has broadened my horizons. I feel I now have more to share than just lifestyle ideas. I want to talk about life. In the broadest sense. And I am lucky enough to have the opportunity to do so. The fabulous thing about being a mother these days is that all your hard-won wisdom doesn’t need to stay with you in the kitchen. You can go out and shout about it. I’m fortunate to have discovered a wonderful nanny. She’s a great find.

Every Sunday morning Osama I am just so happy being Petra Sutherland.

It is Christmas Eve Osama and there is a new release of ENGLAND’S HEART IS BLEEDING in the charts with bells on it. They’ve hung lights on the Shield of Hope. Each balloon has its theme there are huge stars and candles and snowmen. It looks amazing at night there are a million electric bulbs glowing where the sky used to be. The only thing is you can’t see the faces now. My husband isn’t there any more there is a red-and-white Santa Claus instead. My boy’s been replaced by Rudolph.

It is Christmas Eve Osama and this morning I decided you were right after all. I mean I’ve been thinking about it a lot what with not having much to do of an evening. Some people are cruel and selfish and the world would be better off without them. You were absolutely right the whole time some people only deserve to burn.

It was 7 this morning when the bailiffs came to evict us from the flat. It wasn’t their fault they were just doing their job and it didn’t look like they got the same satisfaction out of it that I get from neatening up rows of tins. They were sorry for what they had to do. They looked so miserable I told them to cheer up and I made them a cup of tea. It’s funny I mean I’d been dreading them coming for so long that it was quite a relief to finally have them in my kitchen. They said I could take all the time I wanted to pack my things up but I told them not to worry. I put my makeup and my Harvey Nick’s clothes into a Nike bag along with Mr. Rabbit. Then I took my boy’s hand and we left the Wellington Estate.

It was cold and crisp this morning with a bright blue sky and ice on the pavements. On Bethnal Green Road we had a McBreakfast at McDonald’s and I changed into Petra’s clothes in their toilets. I put Petra’s face on in their mirror and I shoved my old Adidas tracksuit down their khazi. So if you ever wondered Osama why the McToilets are always blocked well there’s one of your reasons anyway. Then I took the boy to the Shell garage and I told them my motor was run out of petrol. They let me buy a 5-litre red plastic can and they filled it with unleaded for me. People are ever so helpful when you’re shivering in Herms cause you left your coat in the car. Before I left the garage I bought a nice silver Zippo lighter. I got the man to fill it with lighter fluid for me I said I didn’t want to get the stuff on my clothes. The man flicked it on to test it and it made a nice bright flame till he snapped the lid back on and handed it over.

Outside the garage I put the Zippo in my pocket and I put the petrol can inside my Nike bag. We walked to Cambridge Heath and got on a D6 bus and went up to the top deck and sat right at the front. My boy always loved the top deck of a bus. He was jumping around and shouting he was so excited but I was very calm I knew what I had to do. At Mile End we changed onto the 277.

It wasn’t any problem getting in to the tower at Canary Wharf. The security blokes just nodded me through. I was Petra Sutherland after all. As seen on TV. I took my boy into the lift and we rode up to the Sunday Telegraph ’s floor. At the reception desk the girl was a bit confused because she thought she’d seen me go in already that morning. I smiled and told her I’d had to pop back to the car for my gym kit. I held up my Nike bag and she smiled and buzzed me in.

Petra was on the phone when I stepped into her office with my boy. She had her back to me and she was saying NO I DID NOT SAY PLAID I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER SAYING TARTAN. She didn’t turn round till she heard the click of me locking her office door behind us. Petra’s office was gorgeous. It was right on the corner of the tower and you could see the whole of London laid out behind her with the buildings glittering under the blue morning sky.

Petra’s mouth opened wide but I didn’t give her a chance to speak. I thought she’d said enough. I just picked up the solid glass Columnist of the Year award off her desk and smacked her across the side of the head with it. She fell back stunned into her office chair. I turned round to look back through the glass walls of her office. No one was watching. There were venetian blinds on the glass and I twisted them shut so no one could see us.

I looked down at Petra it was obvious one of her cheekbones was broken and I felt sick I remembered kissing that cheek. I remembered stretching up out of the bath to do it while the candles flickered low. I didn’t want to think about Petra’s broken cheek so I just got the 5-litre can out of my Nike bag and I started pouring petrol. I poured it all over the carpet round Petra’s chair and I poured it all over Petra’s chair and I poured it all over Petra till her white cashmere sweater was soaked and heavy with the stuff and clinging to her skin. You couldn’t breathe for all the petrol fumes and Petra started choking and coming round. Her eyes were streaming and there was blood and snot running out of her nose.

—Oh no oh fucking Jesus Christ no please no you’re not going to murder me are you? she said.

I didn’t say anything I just got the Zippo out of my pocket and opened the lid of it and held it up and Petra Sutherland was squirming in her chair but she couldn’t stand up she was saying no no NO NO NO. My boy wasn’t taking any notice he was laughing and running round the office banging on the glass windows and looking out over the whole of London in flames underneath us. LOOK MUMMY he was pointing. WHAT’S THAT BURNING? It’s the new Swiss Re building darling. AND WHAT’S THAT BURNING? It’s St. Paul’s Cathedral. AND WHAT’S THAT BURNING? Shush now just for a second darling Mummy’s very busy.

I looked back at Petra I looked right in her eyes.

—God you’re fucking crazy, she said. There’s no one fucking there you’re talking to yourself oh god oh god oh you need help I can help you you don’t have to go through with this please oh please just put that lighter down and we can get you some help oh please and you won’t get into any trouble I promise.

I just looked at her I couldn’t believe she was promising again.

—Why are you doing this? said Petra. Please? WHY?

—It’s like you said yourself Petra. We must always do what’s best for our children.

Petra went very scared and pale then she was just trembling and whimpering. I took a couple of steps back towards the wall of the office so I’d be out of the way when all that petrol went up. I called to my boy. He had his nose pressed up against the windows gawping at the waves of flame rolling over London so all you could see was the very tops of the tallest towers crumbling in the heat.

—Come on darling come back here with Mummy out of the way.

I held up the Zippo and I put my thumb on the spark wheel. I stayed like that watching Petra cry for a very long time. My boy looked up at me.

—Mummy what are you waiting for?

Kids will ask questions won’t they Osama? I took a deep breath.

—I’m waiting till I don’t feel anything for her any more not even a tiny bit.