‘I don’t know!’ Velda cried. ‘I need to call the fire department,’ she said, running into her bedroom.
‘Mom, there’s no time!’ Jack shouted, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. ‘We’ve got to get out.’
‘Jack’s window!’ Alice blurted. ‘We can climb out onto the porch roof.’
At that moment, the house’s wiring went, taking away the light. In a muddle of darkness, they ran into Jack’s bedroom. He pulled up the window, bringing a gust of wintry wind into the room.
‘Come on, Mom!’ he directed, guiding her towards the opening.
Velda pulled herself up onto the ledge and crawled out onto the snow-covered shingles above the porch. On hands and knees, she slowly dragged herself along the edge.
‘Go to the end, then hang down,’ Jack ordered from behind her. ‘Then go next door and get help.’
Velda reached the end and turned to lower herself down. She looked back at the window. Jack was out, but Alice had vanished. Before she could speak, her freezing fingers slipped from the roof, sending her falling backwards into a bush below. ‘Where’s Alice?’ she screamed, managing to stand up. ‘Where’s Alice?’
‘Gone back in to get Dad,’ Jack yelled. ‘Hurry and get help!’
Velda was numb. The blanket over her shoulders, now heavy from the falling snow, did nothing to stop the acute quivering that rattled through her body. The police tape barricade, vibrating in the icy wind against her hands, had confined her to the street. The swelling congregation behind her—a motley mixture of prying and anxious neighbours and the whole gamut of emergency service personnel—were rendered faceless by the darkness of the night.
Velda’s eyes followed the thick snakes of white hose that crossed her lawn from the hydrant, into the hands of the firefighters, who were battling the great rasping flames that projected from every window of the house. Her house.
One of the firefighters—the chief, she assumed—approached her. He was sweating and his face was marked with black blotches. ‘Ma’am—are you sure your husband and daughter are still inside?’
‘Yes,’ she heard herself say.
‘They couldn’t have slipped out to get something from the grocery store or…?’
‘No,’ Velda sobbed. ‘They’re inside. Please find them.’
The fire chief nodded and turned back towards the house.
A moment later, without fanfare or warning, the house collapsed. The shocked gasps of her neighbours and the stricken cries of the firefighters on the lawn were lost to the appalling cacophony of metal, brick, wood and glass crumbling together, crescendo-ing into the night sky. A funnel of dense black smoke, peppered with flecks of bright red and orange, clashed in mid-air with the flurrying of falling snow.
Then, an odd stillness.
That her house—her home—could be reduced to this pile of indescribable burning debris in front of her shocked her anew.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
The hermetic seal that had neatly separated past and present had just ruptured spectacularly.
And now it was all over.
Somebody touched her shoulder and said something. She turned. It was her son, Jack. Either Velda’s ears were still ringing with the sound of the house disintegrating, or Jack was speaking soundlessly. There was an urgency to his voice.
Velda tried to reply but a sagging sensation in her heart emanated out under her skin and down into her quivering limbs. Her legs buckled from beneath her and she crumpled helplessly into the snow.
She could hear her name being called. She was cold—so terribly cold—and couldn’t move. She opened her eyes and saw Jack. Then she remembered that she had seen him before everything went black. The awfulness of the evening struck her memory with a force that made her gasp and sit up for breath.
‘Alice,’ Velda managed to say. ‘Where is she?’
‘They’ve just taken her to the hospital,’ Jack answered, pointing to an ambulance departing with lights flashing and sirens blaring. ‘She’ll be okay…but…they haven’t found Dad yet.’
She turned towards the house—or what was left of it. It was still blazing. ‘Look what you’ve done…’ she breathed.
‘Pardon me?’ Jack said. ‘What did I do?’
Her grey eyes were cutting as she spoke. ‘It’s all your fault, Jack.’
‘You know who probably did this?’ Jack seethed quietly, pushing his face just inches from hers. ‘Dad—that’s who. Just like he did with his first wife and kid… Yeah, you think I’m stupid or something? Dad suddenly looks set for jail for bigamy, then they get killed in a fire with mysterious circumstances.’
Velda held his gaze the whole time he spoke. She had never seen him so angry.
‘I know everything, Mom.’
Velda spoke softly. ‘You’ve ruined everything, Jack. Why couldn’t you just leave things alone?’
‘I can’t believe you’re being serious. After all the lies you’ve told us… it’s you and Dad who’re to blame, Mom.’
‘Just go, Jack. Just go. Leave.’
‘Fine. But I’m never coming back.’
Chapter Twenty
30th December 1976, Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, USA
Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, a notepad resting on his knees. A pen was poised in his hand but he was struggling to put all that had happened into words. So far, he had written the date—the only thing that he was certain of right now. Should he tell Margaret all that had occurred in the last few days? About all the family secrets? About the fire? Should he tell her about his growing relationship with Laura? It felt wrong, somehow, to maintain a connection to Margaret since he and Laura were now officially dating. Despite her not answering his letters, he still felt something for Margaret—like he owed her one more letter, an explanation of sorts. This would be the last one, he decided. A final goodbye. It fitted with the rest of his life and the closing down of the past. Only he, unlike his father, would not pretend that the past had never existed.
‘Okay,’ Jack muttered, putting
