The Fire

ary and Dickon raced towards the house. There were flames at every window and black smoke billowing up into the blue sky. The house was burning to the ground!

As they reached the front door, Martha staggered out, coughing and spluttering. ‘Mary! Dickon! Stay away. The brigade’s been called. We can’t do anything more.’

‘Is everyone out?’ demanded Mary.

‘Not the master,’ said Martha, her eyes filling with tears. ‘We don’t know where he is. No one’s seen him since the blaze started.’

Mary sprinted towards the door, leaping up the steps.

‘Mary!’ Dickon shouted.

‘I know where he’ll be!’ Mary yelled. She raced across the hall and up the stairs. The air was smotheringly hot, smoke billowing down the staircase, making her eyes stream. The house was filled with the crackling of fire and crashes of objects as the hungry flames devoured them. Mary ran up to the second floor and raced to Colin’s room. The door was open and her uncle was standing inside, looking around helplessly as if he didn’t know what to do.

‘I knew you’d be here,’ Mary gasped.

Her uncle shook as he coughed. His face was smudged with dirt, his hair in disarray. ‘Colin, where’s Colin?’ he gasped as the fire raged through the house.

‘Come on, please, come on,’ Mary said, tugging his arm.

‘I will not leave without my son!’ her uncle said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t desert him. Not again.’

‘Your son isn’t here, sir,’ insisted Mary.

Her uncle’s face creased with grief. ‘He is dead already?’

‘No! I was with him just five minutes ago. I give you my word on the soul of Grace Craven. Now please, come with me and I will show you where he is!’ Mary knew she had to get him out quickly. She tugged his arm again and this time he allowed her to pull him out of the room as the flames began to engulf it. His face was dazed.

Mary pulled him down the smoke-filled corridor, but as they reached the stairs there was a crack overhead and part of the ceiling fell down, the plaster burning. Mary yelped and jumped back. The house was burning down around them. ‘We need to find another way.’

She turned and led him past Colin’s room, but, as they hurried through the smoke, the floor in front of them gave way, flames leaping up through it.

We’re trapped, thought Mary in despair. We’re going to be burned alive. She turned to her uncle. ‘Uncle, you know the house best. How can we get out?’

Coughing hard, her uncle collapsed on the floor.

‘No!’ she cried in dismay. ‘Please don’t – I can’t lift you.’ She tried to drag him back to his feet, but he shook his head.

‘Leave me. Please. Leave me here,’ he said in despair.

Mary shook her head stubbornly. ‘No. Colin needs you.’

‘I’ve ruined everything,’ her uncle croaked.

Mary heard footsteps. Looking up, she saw the ghostly figures of her mother and Aunt Grace appear in the corridor. Her eyes met theirs – pleading, begging. In an instant, Grace was beside her, her hands helping her uncle to his feet. Then she was gone again, running to join her sister by the door that led to the hidden room. They both looked straight at Mary.

Mary was sure they were trying to help. ‘This way!’ she gasped.

Mary helped her uncle along the corridor, following the ghostly figures. Her mother and Grace went into the room with the murals and disappeared through the wall into the secret room. Mary pressed the hidden catch and desperately pushed her uncle into the room, slamming the door behind them. The sisters were standing on the far side of the room. With a conspiratorial look, they suddenly vanished.

‘No!’ Mary cried. And then she saw it. Another door right where they had been standing. It was small and thin, disguised by the wallpaper, but had a little round handle. Mary turned the handle, but the door was locked.

‘Uncle, help me!’ she cried, starting to kick at the flimsy door. She looked back at him. He was kneeling on the floor again, looking round at all the dresses, tears in his eyes. ‘I need your help!’

He staggered to his feet and ran at the door with all his weight. It splintered and gave way and they fell through into a servants’ staircase. It was free from fire. They stumbled down it and came out through a door on to the main staircase of the hall. Flames were licking at the stairs. The figures of her mother and Grace appeared in front of them, running down towards the hall. Mary grabbed her uncle’s hand and followed them. As they neared the bottom, smoke billowed up from the stairwell. Mr Craven lost his footing and fell, dragging Mary with him. Together they crashed to the bottom, landing in a heap on the tiled floor of the entrance hall.

For a moment, Mary was too dazed to move. She looked up woozily and saw her mother bending over her. ‘Mother?’ She wasn’t sure if she thought it or spoke it out loud, but her mother smiled.

‘Oh, Mother, I’ve ruined everything,’ Mary said, tears filling her eyes. ‘And I just wanted to make things better.’

Her mother reached out and stroked her cheek.

Mary’s heart stopped still. ‘Please stay,’ she begged.

Her mother gave a sad shake of her head and kissed Mary’s hair. At the ghostly touch of her lips, Mary felt the deep surge of her mother’s love. Their eyes met one last time, then Mary’s mother smiled tenderly and was gone.

‘Mary!’ she heard Dickon yell and he and Martha came charging through the smoke, coughing. ‘Mary, are you …’

‘Get my uncle!’ she screamed. ‘Take him first!’

Martha and Dickon lifted Mr Craven up by the arms. Dickon looked round to help Mary too, but she was already struggling to her feet. As she reached the door, she glanced back and saw the smiling figures of her mother and Grace standing at the foot of the grand staircase. Their faces were happy and peaceful. Taking hold of each other’s hands, they walked upstairs into the flames, reclaiming their home and vanishing from sight.

Goodbye, Mary thought.

Coughing and gasping for breath, she staggered out of the door and into the fresh air.