CHAPTER 23

HOTTING UP

Alec, Tracy and Pete stared in horror at the door. Then they sank to the ground, their last hope of honey in tatters. Brian looked round wildly. The fire at the bookshelf was gaining strength. Smoke was thickening quickly below the ceiling. They had minutes left to act before it sank and filled their lungs.

Or rather he did. The honey-starved children were no use at all. ‘Get back to the window!’ he ordered. ‘And keep low.’ At least that would buy them more air and time while he thought of something.

But what? If I smash the other window, more smoke can escape. But the extra air will feed the flames. Panic clouded his brain. He couldn’t think straight. He needed help.

‘Dulcie!’ He raised his left arm, brought his shirt sleeve to his ear and rubbed like he’d never rubbed before.

‘Stop the fire first!’ she shrieked. ‘Use the trousers!’

Brian seized the gardening trousers still lying by the door and rushed back to the bookshelf.

Over and over he smacked at the flames, trousers in one hand, jersey in the other, his eyes stinging from the heat, his hands from the pain and his throat from the smoke that scratched with vicious fingernails. He kicked books away from the edge of the pile, coughing and spluttering.

‘That’s it!’ squealed Dulcie. The flames shrank under the heavy fabric of the trousers as he pounded with a strength scooped from nowhere. ‘You’ve done it!’ The last flame flickered and died. ‘Now smash the other window! You have to get rid of the smoke.’

She was right. But there was something else he had to do first. The children were lying on the floor by the window where the last clean air lingered. But Florrie was higher, still sat in her chair, her head shrouded in smoke. If Brian didn’t get to her, the fumes would.

‘I said the window!’ peeped Dulcie as instead he snatched up an unburned book from the floor and crouch-ran to the front desk. He lay on his back, raised his legs and pushed the chair over with his feet. The gasping Florrie toppled onto her side.

Wriggling on his bottom and still clutching the book he elbowed and shouldered a desk to the wall below the other window. He took a deep gulp of precious air and hauled himself onto the desk. He staggered to his feet. Smoke stuffed his nose like boiling carpet. He raised his arm and flung the book at the window. It smashed through the glass and thudded outside.

Shot, he thought vaguely as his brain began to melt.

Good, he thought dimly as smoke billowed through the hole.

Nothing, he thought blankly as he crashed to the ground.