City of Darkness and Light(7)

I felt the edge of the kitchen table, solid pine and still standing, and moved around it. In the darkness I could hear the crackle of flame but no other sound. Somewhere in that black and smoking hell were my husband and son.

“Daniel!” I tried to shout but my voice came out rasping, like a bird’s caw. I pushed my way forward. “Daniel!” I tried again. The light from the fire, or maybe from the streetlamp outside, cast an unreal glow through the thick smoke. Where the hallway had been was now a pile of smoking rubble, and beneath it I spotted Daniel’s foot. With utter desperation I threw off one chunk of plaster after another, pieces of glass, pieces of what had once been the hallstand, a hook with my new hat still attached to it.

“Daniel.” I dropped to my knees beside him and turned him over. His face was blackened, like a chimney sweep’s, with a nasty gash across his forehead. His jacket had been torn away and his shirt ripped. I lifted him gently and cradled his head in my hands. “Daniel, wake up, please.”

I took his wrist and was relieved to feel a pulse. Still alive then. Must get him free of all this. Out of here. I dragged him back into the kitchen and opened the back door, letting in cold fresh air. I couldn’t wait a second longer to see if he was going to wake up. All I could think about was Liam. He’d been upstairs in his crib, in his nursery at the front of the house. As I tried to pick my way over the rubble in the hall I heard coughing behind me, a curse and a groan. Daniel was sitting up, his hand to his chest, trying to breathe.

“Daniel.” I rushed back to him. “Get up. Help me. Liam’s upstairs. It’s all on fire.”

He staggered to his feet. “Liam,” he gasped and came after me. We made our way down the hall, staggering like two drunks on a Saturday night. When we reached the place where the stairs should have been there was just a gaping hole with the upper steps hanging crazily over nothing.

“My son’s up there!” I screamed, my voice coming back to me now. “And Aggie. Aggie!” I shouted her name. The only reply was the crackle of flames and the shifting of some beam.

“Get help,” I tugged at his arm. “Get the fire brigade. A ladder.”

Like an automaton Daniel made for the hole where the front door had been. I followed him, feeling the welcome cold rain on me. A crowd was gathering outside. I could see faces lit with the eerie red glow of the fire.

“My baby!” I screamed, rushing up to the nearest figure in the darkness. “My baby is trapped upstairs. Get the fire brigade.”

“I’ll get a ladder,” a man’s voice volunteered.

“No time for that.” Daniel was already hauling himself onto a window ledge. “Give me a leg up, boys.”

“You don’t want to go up there. It’s all on fire,” someone shouted.

“My son is up there,” Daniel said grimly. “Help me.”

“Daniel, no!” I shouted. “Be careful.”

Two burly men helped Daniel haul himself to the top of the window frame and I watched him reach for the upper window. The glass had shattered and flames were licking out of it. Someone had started a bucket chain in a pathetically futile attempt to put out the fire. Each time a bucket of water was thrown through a broken window there was a sizzling noise and steam rose, but the fire didn’t subside. I watched Daniel haul himself inside, wanting him to go and not go at the same time. My heart was hammering. I found that I was holding my breath. In the distance I heard the bells of a fire engine, coming from the Jefferson Market station nearby. Then horses’ hoofs drumming on the cobbles and shouts of: “Out of the way! Stand clear!”

And a fire engine appeared at the entrance to our alleyway. A hose was unwound. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as the firemen ran toward us.

“What happened?”

“There was an explosion,” someone in the crowd said.

“Gas main blew up? Someone turned on the gas and forgot to light it?”

Water was now being aimed at the front of our house, sending up a curtain of steam and smoke that hid the window into which Daniel had disappeared.

I grabbed a fireman. “My husband is up there,” I said. “And my baby, and the nursemaid.”

A ladder was placed against the wall. One of the firemen went up it and I heard him say, “Over here, sir. Come on. I’ll get you out.”

And a blackened, singed Daniel appeared at the window, clutching a bundle wrapped in a blanket in his arms. He handed it to the fireman then lowered himself onto the ladder and came down. I pushed past the firemen and ran to grab the bundle.

“My baby.” I could hear myself sobbing as I snatched him from the fireman’s arms. “Give me my baby.”