‘I’m going to have a game of cards with Brigid,’ announced Mam.
Katie nodded. She was glad to see Mam going out, even if it was just next door for an hour or so. The men kept disappearing off every night and it was lonely for her.
‘Be good,’ Mam called.
Katie was busy sorting out a pile of socks that didn’t match. Tom lay on his bunk with a magazine of pictures of motorbikes. He loved looking at them and having them all around him while he slept. With bits of sellotape he stuck up pictures of fellas and girls on all kinds of big bikes. He could name all the bikes, even though he wasn’t too hot at reading and most of the names were foreign-sounding and meant nothing to the others.
She could hear him tearing a page or two out.
‘Katie, pass me in the sellotape, will you?’
‘Get it yourself, I’m busy,’ she retorted.
‘Ah go on, have a look for it.’
She pulled out one or two drawers under the food cupboard. ‘It’s not here,’ she called.
‘It must be,’ he shouted.
‘I see it – it’s all gone.’ She flung the small, empty cardboard circle at him. ‘The twins must have been at it.’
She could hear him moving around and the creak of his bunk as he swung himself down.
‘I’m going over to Pat’s trailer. I won’t be long.’
The caravan was quiet, the others chatting in low tones, their eyes locked on the black-and-white images from the TV.
Suddenly the light seemed to flicker. Katie went to stand up. Maybe the bottle of gas was nearly empty, but with a burst of brightness it settled back again. She ignored it.
Then a strange crackling sound came from the kitchen. She slid the door open more. Where was the noise coming from? The kitchen seemed bright, too bright. The mantle had fallen from the gas light, and an inch of fire ran from one flimsy curtain to the other. The lower half of the window was blackened, and the wood surround was being licked by a tongue of vivid orange flames. She grabbed the kettle of water off the cooker and flung it at the window. Black smoke hissed at her, but like a creature scuttling away from an attacker, a burst of fire ran in a line along the panelling and took flight across the ceiling.
‘Move! Out! Get out!’ she began to shout.
The others turned blankly towards her.
‘What’s the smell?’ sniffed Paddy.
‘It’s a fire, get up quick. Out, get out of here! Bloody well MOVE,’ she screamed, grabbing Hannah who was half asleep and pulling her to her feet.
The boys were trying to lift the small television set.
‘Bloody leave it, we’ve got to move.’
She pushed back through the open doorway into the kitchen. The whole wall was now alight, the lino was starting to curl and melt under them, a heavy black smell filled the kitchen. Back in the other part of the trailer, she grabbed a rug off the couch, lifted the sleeping Davey from the little cot and covered him with it.
She ran back towards the kitchen again. The whole floor was smothered in flames. The cupboards were alight. There was no way they could reach the caravan door. Sparks had run into the boys’ room. In a few seconds the twins’ mattress would be on fire. The pictures of motor bikes further up the wall had started to curl with the heat.
‘We’re stuck, Katie. We’ll all be killed!’ Brian was already beginning to cough and splutter. He’d always had a weak chest since he was a baby.
Time and time again Katie had heard that it was the smoke, the black greasy fumes of smoke from cushions and foam that killed people. They had only a minute or two to get out – already her eyes were beginning to weep. Davey in panic was trying to kick out of the rug; she wrapped it even tighter around him. At the other side of the living room the twins were twisting the screws on each side of the window. The curtains were starting to singe, the whole roof was beginning to crack and Katie could almost believe the floor supports were starting to sag.
‘Help, help! Save us, help!’
The twins and Hannah were shouting and coughing, the noise of the TV drowning them out.
The boys tried to push the window. It was really stiff and would only open a fraction. Dad was meant to have oiled it and freed it up, but hadn’t got around to it. Hannah was trying to squeeze through it, but was bent double, stuck.
‘I’ll be roasted alive. Mam! Mammy!’ she screamed.
‘We’ve got to break a window.’ Katie’s eyes scanned the room. It was hot, the fire was circling towards them. ‘God help me.’
Then in the corner she spotted the iron golf stick. The twins had found it near a golf club where they searched for balls in the long grass. Mam had half-hidden it away from them in case they could do damage.
Hannah was back standing behind her, whimpering like a little puppy. The twins’ faces looked scared. Brian was finding it really hard to breathe. Paddy was forcing him to stand and not sit down.
‘Hannah, hold Davey. Don’t drop him,’ Katie ordered.
She raised the golf stick and began to beat at the glass. A line ran through it but it didn’t crack. It took four goes before the glass shattered and she was able to push it out, but sharp pieces still stuck up. She dragged a chair over.
‘Give me Davey.’
The child was livid with temper. It was a wonder the whole campsite hadn’t heard the racket. The rug was off him and his kicks pounded against Katie’s ribs.
Katie spread the doubled-over rug on top of the jagged window ledge.
‘Get up, Hannah. Stand up on the chair.’
Hannah was up, quick as lightning. Her thin body clambering up over the window.
‘The glass’ll stick into me.’
‘You’ll be roasted otherwise. Stop messing, it’s only a tiny jump,’ Katie ordered her.
Hannah dithered, it wasn’t much of a jump, but it suddenly seemed such a long way to the ground.
‘Jump. Good girl, jump,’ Katie pleaded.
Hannah wavered. The twins began to scream at her which seemed to break the spell. She jumped, and fell on her knees in the dirt, grazing them and her hands.
‘Reach up, Hannah. Come on, look up at me.’
Hannah stood up. She was in shock.
‘I’ll pass down Davey to you,’ Katie stated firmly.
‘I won’t be able to catch him, he’ll fall. He’ll break his back.’
‘Shut up!’
‘No! No! I can’t.’
Already Katie was leaning over the uneven edge of the rug covering. Davey was bawling. His face was as red as a turkey cock and his curls were plastered to his head from the tears and sweat. Katie held him by his armpits. The chubby legs and feet flayed in the air. Hannah’s skinny arms reached up to him. She was able to touch his ankles and halfway up his lower leg. He kicked and thrashed and squealed like a pig going to be slaughtered.
‘I can’t get him.’
‘He’s coming,’ insisted Katie, grim-faced, hoping she was doing the right thing. Leaning over as far as she could she lowered Davey. She was conscious of a scraping, jagged feeling against her stomach, but she reached far forward. Hannah buckled under Davey’s weight but managed to break his fall by landing on her bottom and back.
Davey was safe.
‘Mam, help us, there’s a fire!’ Hannah screamed. Paddy had climbed over the windowsill and jumped down with ease, his face creased with worry and strain as he reached his arms towards his twin brother and helped pull him to safety.
From behind her Katie was conscious of a roar. She looked back. The three sides of the caravan were ablaze. Rivulets of fire ran over her head. Her heart slowed. She felt as if she had stopped breathing. The temptation was to stay rigid and still, to breathe in this strange heavy smell, to fill her lungs with it – so sticky and sweet – to close her eyes and let it cover her nose and mouth, to float away.
Her eyes felt so heavy … maybe she should just shut them, it would be so easy.
‘Kaaatie! My Kaaatie!’
A voice shrill and sharp and urgent pushed its way like a nail into her brain.
Mam was outside. She was standing shouting at her. Ah Mam, don’t be cross with me!
‘Kaa-tie! My own Katie. Jump out!’
Tom was outside too. He had his arms around Mam’s waist, like he was wrestling her and holding her back. As if in slow motion Katie could see Hannah, trying to keep hold of Davey. What was wrong with the twins? They were curled up in each other’s arms, hugging each other. It was getting very hot and oh so dark.
She could see Mam’s eyes. They were huge, like two pools of water.
‘KATIE!’
It was so loud and high, piercing her above the roar of the flames and the crackling of the wood all around her.
Mam wanted her. She jumped.