Gabriel is sitting on a wooden bench in a police station and Mum walks past and she doesn’t even look at him.
Mum, he says, Mum, where are you going? Where’s Harry? but Mum doesn’t answer. She walks past him and the policeman shuts the door behind them and leaves Gabriel all alone.
It’s hot. The policeman sitting on the bench next to him has big rings of sweat under his arms, staining the deep blue of his uniform. There’s sweat on his face too, shining on his forehead. He’s there to keep Gabriel company while they talk to his mum. And then they can all go home.
Gabriel wants to lie down on his bed in the corner of Mum’s room, next to Harry’s cot, and close his eyes and sleep. From there, he can see out of the window, watch the moon rise and light up the roofs of the houses gathered across the street. He can hear the clank and rumble of the rubbish truck coming to collect the waste. None of the places in the old man’s house are safe, but at least when Gabriel’s in his own bed, he can escape into sleep.
Gabriel closes his eyes and an orange glow lights up behind his eyelids. People come and go and talk and there’s a man shouting somewhere down a corridor, yelling and saying, It’s her fault. Why don’t you talk to the bitch, and the policeman on the other side of the counter is laughing at something and the phones are ringing. There’s so much noise, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of fire as it sweeps along the path that’s been set for it. So fast.
Gabriel never knew it could move so fast. Huge leaping bounds and as it runs it grows. Bright, brighter, looking for somewhere to stop and guzzle.
So, Gabriel. The policeman sitting next to him says his name and Gabriel opens his eyes. Do you want to tell me what happened?
Later, years later, Gabriel knows that the man should never have spoken to him. He should never have kept Gabriel from closing his eyes and falling asleep. He should never have asked the same questions over and over again while Gabriel’s mother was in the room with the other policeman, the one who’s walking up to them now.
I couldn’t get anything from her, Gabriel hears him saying to the sweaty man sitting on a wooden bench next to him. Any luck here?
None, says the other. All you need to do is smell the kid, though.
Gabriel’s eyes are closed, but he hears the voices behind the crackle and pop of the fire, behind the running, jumping, munching of the fire, he hears their voices. But he’s too tired to open his eyes, too tired to speak and tell them what happened.