Jenny staggered to her feet. Jonah was curled up, cursing, screaming and sobbing. He needed help but she couldn’t even call an ambulance for him. Maybe he could manage if she got him a phone? Hers was lying near Matt. She knelt, then stopped cold. The things Matt had said finally began to make sense. He’d admitted the attack on her at fourteen, hadn’t he? Or had he fantasised about it and put himself in the scene because he was obsessed about her? Both were frighteningly possible. One thing was clear: he was out of his mind with jealousy and had just tried to kill her and Jonah. She’d never be safe from him.
Jenny’s mind went briefly to the prospect of a trial and testimony. All her past being dissected again – her name getting out as, God, there weren’t any other black voiceless violinists were there? People trolling her on social media – telling her she’d got what she’d deserved, you black bitch. If there was a foul insult out there, c-word, n-word, it would come her way in such a disgusting torrent that she’d have to hide again. She couldn’t stand that. Just couldn’t. She just wanted it all to go away.
Her gaze slid to the door. Matt had dropped a bag on entry just inside. A mood of unreality stole over her. Ignoring Jonah’s sobs, she knelt to open it. It felt like a message sent from … from Fate? Matt had packed lighter fuel and matches. An odd feeling swept her; it was as if someone else was in control of her and she was just observing. The solution was obvious. She took out the fuel and matches, spilled the liquid over the bottom of the curtains and lit the match. Her drapes went up with a satisfying ‘whoosh’.
‘What the fuck, Jenny?’ groaned Jonah. ‘Are you trying to kill us?’
Disorientated, she realised she’d done this in the wrong order. She should’ve made Jonah safe before torching the place. Too late now though. Still functioning in a cloud of unreality, she cast about for her next move. OK, she’d have to make a belated attempt at the first part of the plan. Taking her plum silk gown, she made a stabilising bandage for the scissors, tying it around Jonah’s middle. Pulling them out now would risk massive blood loss: she remembered that much from a first aid course members of the orchestra did so they could work with school kids. Smoke was already gathering, flames eating at the ceiling, blistering the white paint black. She grabbed Jonah under his armpits and started dragging him to the door.
‘Shit!’ He yelled. ‘Stop it, you mad cow! I … can … walk,’ he gasped.
That would be better for both of them. Jonah clutched his abdomen and struggled to his knees. She supported him as he got to his feet.
‘You’re fucking insane.’
She knew that.
‘Are you going back for him?’
She shook her head.
‘Because I don’t think … I can manage … the stairs on my own.’
It took so long. She was having problems breathing as she acted as his crutch on the steps. They managed to get as far as the hallway before Jonah passed out. Crap, she was hoping he’d call the ambulance for her. She opened the front door and dragged him onto the path. At least he was safe. Then she went back into the house, half expecting, half hoping, to see Matt at the stop of the stairs. She gripped the bannister so hard it hurt. For a moment, her emotional fog lifted and she felt a sharp stab of regret – maybe guilt? It was difficult to know what she was feeling. Then reality finally managed to punched through her numbness. This was happening for real. Matt was lying helpless upstairs as the fire took hold and she was to blame.
My God, did I really mean him to die?
Oh God, oh God. Was there still time to go upstairs to try to rescue Matt?
Then a billow of black smoke obscured the oriel window, taking the decision away from her. Her fire-making had worked too well. Chances of her carrying Matt out were vanishingly small. She’d probably end up killing them both. Instead, she picked up the old landline and dialled the emergency services.
‘Which service do you require?’ came the voice.
Jenny struggled, gulped, tried to summon the sounds she had managed twice now.
‘Caller, which service to you require?’
‘All. Urgent.’ The sound was ugly, more growl than words.
‘All of them?’
‘Yes.’ She put the phone back in the cradle. Smoke was filling the hallway. There was no choice now of going upstairs and surviving so she went out to be with Jonah and watch Gallant House burn.
The fire service arrived very quickly, already summoned by a neighbour. Before she could even wave to get their attention, competent-looking men in uniform swarmed her.
‘Is there anyone left in the house?’ asked one.
She nodded. ‘One. Front bedroom.’ She pointed to her window where flames and smoke billowed.
‘Inhaled the smoke, did you?’ The fireman beckoned a colleague. ‘Get some oxygen over here. Team, we’ve got someone trapped inside. Adult or child?’ He was talking to her again.
‘Adult,’ she rasped.
‘OK, Miss, you sit still and my colleague will look after you until the ambulance arrives.’
Jenny hated watching the firemen risk their lives to enter the house but she could hardly admit her guilt, could she? A second engine arrived and there were now firehoses trained on the front of the house. Flames had reached the attic. At least the daybed would be a goner.
The police and first ambulance arrived together. Jonah was stretchered away and left on a blue light run. He’d relish the irony, she thought, doing it for real, rather than just for the cameras. A policeman hunkered down next to her while a medic checked her over.
‘We know you, don’t we, Miss?’
She nodded.
‘You’re the lady who can’t talk?’
She gave him a thumbs up.
‘We’ll need to know what happened here.’
Another thumbs up – agreement to questioning.
He exchanged a look with the medic. ‘The paramedic wants to take you into hospital to get you checked over. We’ll catch up with you there, all right?’
Jenny nodded, but her gaze went to a spot beyond him. The firemen, who had entered the house fully suited and booted, were now emerging. They were carrying a shrouded body.
‘Do you know who that is?’ asked the policeman.
Jenny coughed, took a sip of water. ‘M … matt.’
The policeman looked at her in surprise.
‘Upshaw.’
‘Matt Upshaw? Housemate?’
She shook her head. Her throat ached. These words felt like fingernails being bent backwards but she had to explain the essentials or they’d arrest Jonah again. Or maybe her? ‘He … attacked … us.’
‘Officer, I really have to take her now,’ said the paramedic as his colleague arrived with a stretcher.
Jenny waved it away. ‘Walk.’ Leaning on his arm, she crossed over to the third ambulance just as the second carrying Matt hurtled away, sirens screaming. Did that mean there was some life left in him? She didn’t know if she preferred him dead or alive – not because of doubt about what he deserved but because she’d have to face up to being a killer if she’d succeeded in ending his life.
As the ambulance doors closed, Jenny looked back and saw the roof fall in over her bedroom. Sparks wheel up into the sky like the ghosts of the Jacks escaping. Bridget should’ve been here, she thought. A fitting end for the admiral’s cursed house.
Sitting in the examination cubicle alone, Jenny hugged her arms to herself. God, what had she done? The sense of unreality that had cocooned her was retreating. She’d asked them not to phone her mother. Instead, she had sent a message from a borrowed mobile that hers was out of juice and that she was staying up in town with Jonah. She hoped news of the house fire remained a local London item, rather than make the national newsfeed. Technically, what she told her mother was true: her phone would not have any battery left, having been burnt to a cinder, and she was staying in hospital to see how her friend did.
On arrival, the doctors had poked and prodded her, noted the shallow cut on her throat and bruising on her upper arms. Checking with the uniformed police officer who had followed her to hospital, they’d asked if she needed a rape kit but she’d shaken her head and with that they’d left her alone. A pile up on a local dual carriageway had demanded their attention in A&E.
‘Knock, knock.’ A plain clothes police officer put her head around the curtain. ‘Jenny? I’m Detective Sergeant Foley, can I come in?’
Jenny beckoned her closer.
‘My colleague, Constable Morningside, who looked after you at the house, said you have recovered a limited ability to speak?’
Jenny breathed through her nose, preparing herself. ‘Single … words.’
If Foley found this suspicious, she kept her tone rigorously polite. ‘Thank you. We just needed to know as we have a female voice on the emergency call. Is that you?’
Jenny nodded.
‘You spoke to my colleagues last time you were interviewed, but I’ve been working the earlier assault case for CID. Do you know what that means?’
Jenny nodded.
‘This is the second time in a week that we’ve been called to Gallant House. The first time there were two casualties – yourself and Bridget Whittingham. This time we have one casualty – Jonah Brigson – and one body.
She’d killed Matt?
‘You told Constable Morningside on the scene that the man’s name is Matt Upshaw. Is this correct?’
She’d murdered him.
‘Jenny? Is that correct?’
Trembling, she nodded. Oh God. She’d done this.
‘OK, I’ve already run a check through our case notes and I found a Matt Upshaw listed as being part of the same orchestra you played for, yes?’
She nodded, going into automatic as her brain tried to process his death.
‘Can you tell me anything else about him? Next of kin, for example?’
Jenny squeezed the bridge of her nose. God, this was a nightmare – one she had helped create.
‘Jenny, I know this is difficult …’
Jenny mimed writing.
‘You need something to write on?’ The police officer ducked out of the cubicle and came back with a clipboard and pen. ‘Here you are.’
She had to pull herself together just enough to answer the questions. She could fall apart when the police left.
Matt Upshaw was my ex-boyfriend but tonight he also admitted he’d been stalking me since we broke up. He was waiting for us in the house. He attacked me and when Jonah tried to stop him, Matt stabbed him with my scissors.
DS Foley was quiet for a while after reading this. ‘What were you and Jonah doing in the house?’
Collecting our belongings.
‘We’d told Jonah it wasn’t a good idea to go back there.’
I asked him to keep my company. It was my idea.
‘And Matt was waiting for you?’
That reminded Jenny. He admitted to living next door so he could spy on me. Please will you check on Norman, our neighbour? I’m worried Matt might’ve hurt him too.
Foley nodded. ‘OK, I’ll get right on that. I imagine the fire brigade have already checked on nearby houses. I’ll see what I can learn.’
The sergeant went out beyond the curtain to make her call. Not that this posed much of a barrier as even in the hubbub of A&E, her side of the conversation could be clearly heard.
‘Norman – no, didn’t get a last name. A neighbour. I can go back and ask if you need. OK. Thanks.’ There was a long pause. ‘You have? Norman Stratton. Right. I’ll let her know.’
DS Foley came back in, her expression a little less suspicious than before. ‘I’m afraid you were correct, Jenny. The fire brigade found the occupant of the neighbouring house dead in an upstairs bedroom.’
‘Fire?’ Oh Christ, had she killed Norman too?
‘No, he’d been that way for some time. But it’s an unattended death so there’ll be an investigation.’
Poor Norman. Jenny forced her brain to think through what this meant. Had Matt killed him when he no longer had a use for him? Had her breaking it off with Matt triggered this too? Was she partly to blame?
‘I’ve checked with the doctors and they’re happy to discharge you. I’m going to arrange for you to be transferred to our station so we can question you properly: is that OK? You aren’t under arrest but you are clearly key to our enquiries, at the very least as a witness.’ Foley was leaving the door open to ramping that up to suspect, was she? Jenny had to hope Jonah didn’t mention that little scene he saw of her with the lighter fluid.
How’s Jonah? She tapped the pad to get Foley’s attention.
‘He’s in surgery.’
Can you interview me here? I want to be with him when he wakes up. She did care about him, but she also had to make sure he didn’t say anything.
‘How about we take you to the station, you answer some questions and we take your statement, then we bring you back here?’
Jenny nodded, unable to think of a reason worth annoying the police officer. An innocent person would do all they could to help law enforcement, wouldn’t she?