‘Sera,’ Mum shouted, through my half-awake state. ‘Hazel’s old farm is on fire.’
I threw back my duvet. Mum was an actress and had a tendency toward the dramatic.
‘Are you sure?’ I whispered, straining to hear if her theatrics had woken my four-year-old daughter, Katie.
‘Of course I am,’ she snapped, waving me towards her bedroom. I followed her to the large window overlooking the back of the house. ‘Look.’
We peered at the orangey glow. Until tonight, there had been little excitement in our lives since I’d returned to live back at Mum’s with Katie after my husband Marcus’ unexpected death three years previously.
‘It is a fire, isn’t it?’ Mum asked, a tremor in her voice.
‘I’m going to see if there’s anything I can do to help.’
‘It could be dangerous. Anyway, I’ve already called the fire brigade. They shouldn’t be long.’
Not wishing to argue, but unable to simply watch and do nothing, I said, ‘I have to go and see if there’s anything I can do. The new farmer lives there alone.’
‘Do you even know the man?’ A fearful glint appeared in her eyes.
‘Mum, I’m twenty-seven.’ She opened her mouth to argue, but I added, ‘And I’m going to the farm. Now.’
‘Fine, but you’re not going alone. Paul can come with you.’
As Mum’s boyfriend and I drove closer to the farm the smell of smoke increased until I could taste it. My heart pounded. I wasn’t feeling nearly as brave as I had done watching from the safety of my mother’s bathroom. Paul and I stared open-mouthed. I had never been this close to a fire this size before. I squinted as the flames lit up the area like a massive orange spotlight. I wasn’t sure how much help we would be, but some help was better than none.
I raced through the high stone pillars either side of the farm entrance. From what I could tell, the ancient barn was on fire. It was devastating seeing a beloved place from my childhood going up in flames. I parked on a grassy area and we got out of the car. The intensity of the heat slammed into us as we ran into the yard.
‘Bloody hell,’ Paul shouted, his eyes wide with shock at the reality of the scene close-up.
‘Hello.’ I battled to make myself heard over the sound of screaming timbers as the flames consumed them. ‘Hello?’
‘Over there.’ Paul pointed at the farmer. I could see the man was limping badly as he stepped forwards, his attention focused on spraying water from an almost useless hose.
‘Any animals?’ I asked, running up to him.
Startled, his head turned sharply to stare at Paul and me. I had to force myself not to react to the damage to one side of his tanned face. It was old scarring from a previous injury. I suspected he was in his late thirties.
‘No,’ he replied, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand, brushing sweat across his soot-smeared face. The tension in his expression relaxed a little and I knew we’d done the right thing coming here. He nodded his head in the direction of the field to the side of the house. ‘I take the animals out,’ he said with an obvious French accent. My dog, Patti, she is up there also.’
I stared up at the inferno. ‘What can we do to help?’
‘I have one more hose at the back of the house, you can attach it there.’ He indicated a standpipe. ‘I must control the fire.’
Paul hurried to do as he’d been asked. Doing my best to avoid the farmer’s devastated expression, I took the hose from him and pointed it at the flame-engulfed timbers.
‘My mother phoned the fire brigade,’ I said, hoping this information would comfort him. ‘They should be here soon.’
He limped to the side of the barn.
Aware I was doing very little to help, I carried on pointing the hose at the flames. Paul joined me, dragging the second hose around the side of the farmhouse and spraying water against the barn walls.
The farmer returned. He gazed across the yard, confusion and misery etched on his distorted face. I couldn’t help wondering what had happened to him to damage him so cruelly. I presumed it must have been an incident when he was in the army, if the village gossip about him was true.
I pushed the thought away and concentrated on what I was doing. He grabbed a metal bucket and filled it from the standpipe in the yard. Running as close to the barn as he could, he threw the water onto the fire. Our pathetic efforts to quell the flames were pointless, but I supposed it made him feel as if he was doing something.
The flames were darting up into the night sky and I spotted the paint on the shutters of his farmhouse bubbling in places. Desperate, I turned my hose to the side of the house nearest the barn and sprayed it with water, hoping to cool it before that too began burning. He didn’t need to lose his home as well as his livelihood.
‘Oh, hell,’ I groaned, spotting that the window I was aiming near was open. ‘I’ll go and close those windows,’ I shouted, coughing when the wind changed direction and I breathed in too much woody smoke.
He looked horrified at my request. ‘No, it is much too dangerous. I will go.’
He dropped his bucket and hurried as quickly as he could into the house. It would have been far quicker to let me run inside and do it, but I sensed he was more concerned about what I might see inside his house rather than my safety. I kept my suspicions to myself. It was his house, after all, and he could play this whichever way he chose. Within a short time, the windows were slammed shut and he came back out to join me.
‘They’re coming,’ Paul bellowed, pointing out towards the main road. He looked as relieved as I felt to hear the clanging bells from the fire engine.
Thankfully, it hadn’t taken them long to get here. ‘Thank you for coming tonight, and to your mother for her help,’ he said, hurrying to greet the firemen.
Paul and I stepped back to let them do their job. We stood silently by the gnarled lilac and apple trees that had grown so entwined that it was almost impossible to imagine them as individual trees.
The large fire engine emerged carefully between the stone pillars into the middle of the yard. The firemen leapt out and immediately began unrolling hoses. Seconds later gallons of water coursed down onto the flames slowly bringing them under control.
I yawned, exhausted from the shock of what we had witnessed. The farmer grabbed hold of me, jerking me backwards. I shrieked in surprise, just as ancient timbers screeched and crashed to the ground nearby. Stunned, I watched as first one and then all the barn walls followed suit. It was obvious that there wasn’t much left to save of this once beautiful building. The thought saddened me.
He let go of me and went to join the firemen. I watched him limp painfully away, sad that he should be going through such a dreadful experience. He was slightly stooped on one side, but still about six feet in height. I realised that this wasn’t the first terrible thing to have happened to him.