The Hull Home Fire (2 page)

Mary’s eyes seemed to sink into her face. “What did your father say ?” she
asked quietly.

“He’s fit to be tied.”

Henry reached for her hands, but she pulled away. His heart flip-flopped. “You
know I’ll do almost anything to be a doctor.”

“You’ll need more money than you have saved up,” Mary said. Her voice sounded
artificial. Tiny beads of sweat bubbled on her forehead. She opened her coat and
yanked off her wool hat. Straight blonde hair tumbled to her shoulders. “Mr.
Hull won’t stand for me chatting it up with you all day.”

Henry saw what looked like a silver chain partially concealed by her sweater.
“What’s that ?”

Mary pulled the chain all the way out and fingered a silver half-moon. “Gramps
gave it to me.” She turned her head to the side and her face became hidden in a
shadow. “Two days before his massive heart attack.”

“Oh,” Henry said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He cleared his throat. “Why
didn’t you show it to me ?”

Mary met his gaze. “I guess it slipped my mind.” She tucked
the
chain inside her sweater. “Gramps wouldn’t want me to mope around on his
account.”

TOM CAME IN FROM THE
yard with an armload of chopped wood. His
lips were blue, and his teeth chattered like a woodpecker hard at work. Moisture
dangled like a teardrop from the tip of his reddened nose.

“Feel better ?” Alice said. She leaned back against the counter and crossed one
ankle over the other. “A grown man storming out into the freezing cold without a
coat because he didn’t like what he heard.”

Tom dumped the wood into the bin next to the stove. “I don’t want to talk about
Henry right now.” His hand shook as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and
blew his nose.

Alice put a bowl of porridge on the table. “Sit down. You have to get hot food
inside you.” She took her coat from the back of the chair. “It’ll serve you
right if you end up with pneumonia.”

Tom glanced up at her. “Off to see your mother at Hull Home ?”

“Of course.”

“Why she’d rather live with sick people is beyond me. She should be here with
her own folk.”

“Tom, how many times do I have to tell you that Hull Home is a boarding house
as well as a nursing home ?” She unhooked her purse from around the doorknob.
“Mom doesn’t want to be a burden to us. Besides, she has friends there she’s
known for most of her life.”

Tom dug into the porridge. “The Department of Public Health has no right to
allow TB cases to live with healthy old folk. That doesn’t sound proper to
me.”

“I think it’s a grand place,” Alice said. “They even look after
the darling children of unwed mothers until they are adopted.”

“Come on, love. They want the extra money, you mean. The Salvation Army does
that for free. I bet Mr. Hull bent Henry’s ear about this doctor business in the
hope he’ll volunteer there.”

“Young Mary Norris says he really cares about the residents.”

“She has no other choice but to say that, because she’s the only one bringing
in money since her grandfather passed.” Tom slapped jam on cold toast. “Our son
has shown beyond a doubt how much she means to him, with this doctor
business.”

Alice tweaked her husband’s chin. “Not many men want their mother-in-law
underfoot.”

“Don’t forget your scarf.” Tom plucked it from the floor, wrapped it around her
neck, and planted a quick peck on her forehead.

Alice smiled. “Won’t be long, love.”

“Say hello to your mother for me,” Tom called as she stepped outside and set
off for Hull Home. Six days a week she made the ten-minute walk to visit her
mother. Dorothy Gatherall — or Dot, as she preferred — spent every Sunday with
her daughter’s family. Alice ran across the street. The cold air scratched her
throat. Despite two pairs of gloves her fingers tingled. She rushed around the
corner and collided with a man. He was fifty years old and below average height,
with thick brown, greying hair.

“Mrs. Gibbs,” Fred Russell said, holding out his arms to steady her. He
chuckled. “Sorry I bumped into you.”

Alice shuffled from foot to foot on the rock-hard snow. “I’m on the way to
visit my mother.”

“A word to the wise,” Fred said. “The stove’s giving trouble again.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “I take it Mr. Hull’s in a foul
mood.”

“You could say that.”

“Do me a favour, Fred. If you see Tom, don’t tell him. This’ll give him more
ammunition to badmouth the Home.”

“
WHY ARE YOU LATE ?
”
ISAAC
griped. He knelt on
the floor, his head and shoulders concealed behind the stove.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said. “My migraine was so bad it kept me awake most of the
night.” She shed her sweater and hung it on the back of a chair. “I’ll make the
toast right away.”

Isaac rose slowly to his feet and brushed dust off his knees. “Get on with it,
then. The building inspector and the fire superintendent will be here at eight.
I want everyone fed by then.”

Mary untied the string around the bread and threw the brown paper in the
garbage next to the sink. Isaac strutted down the hall to the office. “The stove
would have to give out today,” he grumbled. “Where’s the bloody
mechanic ?”

Dot Gatherall strolled into the kitchen. “Our distinguished leader is in fine
form this morning,” she said as she took a butter knife out of the drawer. “Let
me give you a hand, dearie.”

Mary adjusted her apron more securely around her waist. “Mr. Hull will be right
mad at me if I let a resident help fix breakfast. You saw how crooked he was
this morning.”

“Nonsense,” Dot said, taking a slab of butter out of the fridge.
“You shouldn’t be expected to prepare breakfast for over fifty people all by
yourself. Why isn’t Mr. Hull helping out ?”

Mary frowned. “The stove’s giving trouble and he’s worried about the
inspection.”

“Well,” Dot said. “That’s even more reason he should be in here with you.” She
patted Mary’s arm. “Never you mind. We’ll do just fine on our own.”

A loud knock sounded on the front door. “Please let that be the mechanic,” Mary
said, darting down the stairs. She returned with Gordon Freeman, a stove
mechanic who worked with Monroe Machinery and Equipment Company.

Dot smiled at the young man. “Good to see you again so soon, Gordon.”

He placed his tool bag on the floor by the stove. “I’m called in so often to
repair the stove my missus says I should move in,” he said with a straight
face.

Dot wiggled her eyebrows at him. “There’s an extra bed in my room.” She found a
tray in the cupboard over the fridge for the batch of toast and carried it to
the dining room. Mary poked more bread in the two-door toaster.

“Let’s see what the trouble is this time,” Gordon said, pulling tools out of
his bag. “Looks like someone’s been tampering with the carburetor.” He turned to
Mary. “Come take a look.”

Mary crouched down next to the mechanic and examined the trip valve he
indicated. “It’s been tied down to keep it open,” she said.

“Which, as you are well aware, Mary, means more oil is flowing than should be.”
He pointed to a fuel supply pipe. “That’s leaking.” A small puddle of oil had
formed on the floor.

Mary sat back on her heels. “I saw Mr. Hull tinkering with the
stove a little while ago.”

“How do you put up with him ?” Gordon said. “He thinks he knows more than a
real mechanic.”

“He doesn’t have a clue when it comes to mechanical things.”

“Mary !” Isaac growled, glaring down at her. “Get away from there. Hannah Smith
needs her bedclothes changed immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Mary jumped to her feet. “Poor Hannah sweats something awful when
she has the flu.”

“Don’t be mad at Mary,” Gordon said as she scurried away. “I asked her to take
a look.”

“She’s not your helper,” Isaac said. “She has enough work of her own to do.” He
drummed his fingers on the table, watching Gordon’s every move. “That stove’s
been nothing but a bother since the day I purchased it. Needs more looking after
than a newborn.” Isaac hauled out his pocket watch. “Are you done ?”

Gordon tightened a screw on the trip valve. “For now.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Maybe it’s time you learned how to fix the
damn stove once and for all.”

“Mr. Hull, you’ve got to stop tinkering with the carburetor. Oil’s leaking to
the floor because of it.” The mechanic cleaned the greasy mess from his hands.
“Flames will get outside the stove through the water pipes if you don’t. Too
much oil causes high temperatures and extra gases.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Isaac said. “Now, if you don’t mind, see yourself out.
I have important business to attend to.”

“Of course,” Gordon said to Mr. Hull’s retreating back. “Don’t I
always ?”

Dot brought the empty tray back to the kitchen. “Gordon,
I...”
She paused and looked at him as if unsure of what to say. “I heard what you said
to Mr. Hull about the stove. It sounded awful dangerous to me.”

Gordon collected his tools from the floor. “It is, Mrs. Gatherall. I sure hope
he heeds my warning this time.”

Mary descended the stairs as the mechanic opened the front door to leave. “Have
a good day, Gordon.”

“Keep an eye on the stove, Mary,” he said as the door closed behind him, and
left with the tool bag tucked under an arm. Two men approached the home. Gordon
tipped his hat to them. “Morning, gents.”

Fire Superintendent Fred Vivian, the tallest of the pair, rang the doorbell.
Mr. Hull scooted out of his office, his wife close at hand. “Come in. Come in,
gentlemen,” he said, a broad smile plastered across his face. Mary returned to
the kitchen and busied herself with making more toast.

City Building Inspector Cahill pulled off his scarf.

“It’s best to leave that on,” Isaac said. “We have to go outside to get to the
Annex.”

“Well now,” Cahill said, “that’s not very convenient, is it ? Especially during
the winter. By the way, are you the owners of the building ?”

“No. We pay the Noah family sixty-five dollars a month for rent. Mr. Wylie, a
commercial agent, occupies the first floor. His furnace heats the whole
building.”

Mrs. Hull stuck out her chin. “We pay him three hundred dollars a year,” she
added. “A very generous amount if you ask me.”

Superintendent Vivian sniffed several times. “You’ve painted recently,” he
said, looking over the walls. “The smell is still quite potent.”

“The man finished yesterday,” Isaac said. “We keep the place in
good condition.”

Mrs. Hull stepped in front of the men. “On to the kitchen,” she said, moving
ahead without waiting to see if they followed. “You’ll notice how spotless it
is.”

“The wall behind the stove’s been licked with flames,” the inspector said, his
eyes on the brown marks.

“Not at all,” Isaac said. “Those are water marks.”

“I recognize scorching when I see it, Mr. Hull. A fire shield would remedy that
situation.”

“If you don’t mind,” Mrs. Hull said. “My husband and I are more than capable of
taking care of our own concerns.”

“I do hope so.” Superintendent Vivian spoke without the slightest hint of
annoyance.

Cahill took out a notepad and pencil from an inside pocket of his grey jacket
suit. “Mr. Hull, how many nurses do you employ ?”

“Three,” Mrs. Hull said before her husband had time to open his mouth. “Which,
if I do say so myself, is quite a sufficient number. The Department of Welfare
sends medicine, bedclothes, dressings, and even pyjamas when required.” She
glowered at each official in turn. “As you undoubtedly must know.”

Cahill glanced sideways at her. “Sufficient number, you say.” He pursed his
lips. “That is a matter of opinion, madam.”

Mrs. Hull’s nostrils flared wider than an angry horse.

Mary repressed a giggle as she filled the kettle with water.

Cahill gave her a fatherly smile. “Who is this young woman ?”

Isaac supplied her full name along with a list of duties. “She’s been here for
two years and has never once complained about being overworked. Isn’t that
right, Mary ?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cahill addressed Isaac again. “How many people reside here at
present ?”

“Twenty-nine in the main house, including myself and Howard Pike. There’s
twenty-two in the Annex.”

Mrs. Hull’s mouth twitched. “We live on Allandale Road,” she said. “My husband
often spends nights at the Home when he’s concerned about a patient’s health.
Howard’s a seventeen-year-old student at the Prince of Wales College.”

The superintendent looked at Isaac from under heavy brows. “I understand the
Department of Public Health and Welfare pays for the residents’ lodgings.”

“Not for everyone,” Isaac said. “Pike and several seniors pay their own
way.”

Cahill jotted down a sentence in his notepad. “We’ll inspect the rooms in the
main house, then proceed to the Annex.”

Mary made beds and gabbed with residents on the second and third storeys, all
the while keeping pace with the inspection. She noticed both officials wrote
often in their notepads and only gave nods and grunts to inquiries from the
Hulls.

“Which way to the Annex ?” Superintendent Vivian said when they returned to the
main floor. Mary grabbed bedclothes from a closet and followed them
outside.

“Hmm, no fire escape,” Superintendent Vivian said when he surveyed the outside
of the building.

“Brick doesn’t burn,” Mrs. Hull said.

“The inside is made of wood,” the superintendent countered. “And that does
burn.”

Cahill opened the door to the Annex. It swung in and stopped halfway with a
thump.

“Exits should open out, not in,” Vivian said. He skirted around a stove which
partially blocked the door and the stairs.
“My God, man. That has
to be removed immediately.” He looked at Mrs. Hull, her face devoid of any
humour. “Has any poor old soul stumbled over that stove yet ?”

“Indeed not. Safety is one of our main priorities.”

They started up the stairs, Cahill in the lead. “There’s hardly enough room for
one person at a time,” he said. “My shoulders are scant inches from the
walls.”

Vivian wrote down a few more words. “An exceptionally narrow space for sure,”
he said.

“Which meets the required three-feet width,” Mrs. Hull said and walked the
group down the hall. “Gentlemen, I’m confident that you’ll agree the rooms are
clean and the residents well attended to.” Vivian and Cahill filled out page
after page as they scrutinized each room. Mary travelled from room to room,
hanging up clothes and sweeping floors, her ears alert in an attempt to hear the
conversation between the Hulls and the Fire Department officials.

A raspy cough scraped into the air. “That’s Mrs. Duggan,” Isaac said. “She’s
recovering nicely from tuberculosis.”

Mary rushed into her room and poured water from the jug on the bedside table.
“This’ll help,” she said, holding the glass to Mrs. Duggan’s mouth.

“Thank you, my dear,” the old lady croaked.

Mr. Hull smiled. “As you have observed, we have a very sympathetic
staff.”

“How many such cases do you have ?” Cahill said.

“Eighteen.”

Mrs. Hull clasped her hands together. “All doing grand,” she said.

Cahill scribbled down another line. “I haven’t seen a nurse on our rounds,” he
said. “Where are they ?”

Mr. Hull went back into the hall. “The night nurse went home
sick. The other two are due at nine.”

They proceeded to the far room on the right. Isaac extracted a key from his
pocket.

“Why’s the door locked ?” Vivian asked.

Mrs. Hull smiled, a mere rise of thin lips. “Old Mr. Newhook wanders about. We
don’t want him falling down the stairs.”

“My Lord,” Vivian said, looking at Isaac. “It’s never a smart idea to lock
residents in their rooms. In case of fire.” He scanned the room from the
hallway. “There are seven occupants in there. I’ve seen bigger closets.”

“You’re right,” Cahill said. “The room would be overcrowded with three
people.”

“Take a closer look,” Mrs. Hull said. “There’s ample room.”

“I disagree, madam.”

“Mr. Cahill, I’ll have you know our residents are happy folk who frequently
visit each other’s rooms.”

Superintendent Vivian closed his notepad. “Mr. and Mrs. Hull. Thank you for
your time and co-operation. We’ll write up an official report with our
recommendations.”

HENRY STRETCHED AND LAY DOWN
his pencil. He knew it had to be
five o’clock by the rumbles in his stomach. “Mr. Hull, your wife will come
looking for you if you stay late again.”

“Not in this godforsaken weather she won’t.”

“See you in the morning,” Henry said, and heard a desk drawer squeak open as he
left the office. He shot a glance over his shoulder in time to see Isaac take
out a bottle of screech. Henry grinned to himself and walked outside to a sky
twinkling here and there with a few stars. A grey and white husky, hobbling
alongside his ninety-year-old master, stopped and stared up at
Henry. The animal’s crystal blue eyes hadn’t dimmed with age. “Good evening to
you, Mr. Duggan,” Henry said.

The old man measured five foot five and weighed a little over a hundred pounds.
Fragile in appearance, he was fitter than a man thirty years his junior. A dark
green wool cap covered a full head of wavy silver hair. The only visible
wrinkles on his face formed at the corners of his mouth when he smiled.