Authors: Tilly Bagshawe
‘I did,’ Logan sighed, looking at Seb Harwich with studied boredom. ‘But I’m beginning to wonder why.’
‘Come on. Let’s get this party started.’ Lavinia Creek, a particularly obnoxious schoolfriend of Logan’s, stripped off her T-shirt to reveal a bright pink bra. ‘Everyone has to take off at least one item of clothing. Last person on the dance floor goes naked!’
Lavinia was blonde and might have been described as buxom. She was inordinately proud of her large breasts, despite the fact that they came as part of a package that also included a roll of belly fat and a big, wobbly bottom. Seb kept reading that men were supposed to go wild over figures like Lavinia’s. Personally he found the sight of her white flesh spilling over the top of her underwear and miniskirt borderline repulsive, especially when she jiggled it around in what drunkenly passed for dancing.
‘I’m game.’ Not taking his eyes off Logan, Liam Docherty removed his shirt to reveal a surprisingly taut and toned six-pack. The other girls swiftly followed suit, the prettier ones shimmying out of dresses, screaming with laughter as they jumped around in only bras and knickers. Everybody was drunk, but no one more so than Logan. Not one to be outdone on the exhibitionist stakes, she staggered back to her feet, turning up the volume on Gabe’s ancient boombox and dramatically peeling off her bra, which she proceeded to toss provocatively into Seb’s lap.
‘Come on, Sebby.’ She threw her arms in the air and spun around like some Bacchanalian goddess. ‘Dance with me.’
Seb stood up and pulled Logan into his arms, more to shield her naked breasts from Liam and the other boys than out of any desire to be there.
‘You’re hammered,’ he whispered in her ear, trying hard not to be distracted by the silken soft skin of her bare back. ‘And you’re making an arse of yourself. Tell this lot to go home and I’ll make us some coffee.’
‘Can’t hear you,’ laughed Logan, shimmying out of his arms and bending down to turn the music up even louder. As she did so, one of the girls took a picture on her mobile phone.
‘I bet that’ll get a fuck of a lot of “Likes” on Facebook tomorrow,’ whistled Liam.
‘And I bet gorgeous Gabe will be one of them,’ added Lavinia, loudly and for Seb’s benefit. Like most of Logan’s friends, Lavinia fancied Seb Harwich madly and knew he was jealous of Logan’s crush on Gabe. Lavinia would have liked nothing more than to see Seb and Logan break up. ‘I could be his beaver to cry on,’ she’d told the other St Xavier’s girls with a cackle.
‘That’s it,’ said Seb, grabbing his jacket angrily. ‘I’m going home.’
It took Logan a few moments to realize he was serious. By then he was halfway across the farmyard. Grabbing her T-shirt, she ran after him.
‘Come on, Seb. Don’t go.’ She did her best to sound conciliatory. ‘It’s only a bit of fun.’
Seb turned on her angrily. ‘No, it’s not. It’s fucking irresponsible. Poor Laura thinks you’re keeping an eye on the place.’
Logan’s face instantly darkened. ‘Poor Laura indeed. If she’d had her way, Gabe would never have let me house-sit.’
‘Because she thought you might pull something like this’ said Seb, exasperated. ‘And she was right, wasn’t she? Laura was the one who got you the job at the stables, you know.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘It
is
true. Gabe told me. He didn’t want you around every day, but Laura felt sorry for you.’
‘That’s a lie!’ said Logan.
Seb knew he was hurting her but he didn’t care. It was true, and besides, she didn’t care how much she hurt
him.
‘She’s so fucking kind to you,’ he went on. ‘And what do you do to repay her? Abuse her trust and spend every waking hour trying to get her husband into bed.’
‘I don’t have to
try
to get men into bed,’ said Logan, blushing scarlet at Seb’s accusation. ‘It’s easy.’
Seb looked at her, stricken. How could he have fallen so in love with such a horrible, selfish person?
‘Go back to your friends, Logan,’ he said sadly. ‘I’m going home.’
Laura drove through the deserted lanes, blinded by tears of anger and frustration.
How had they managed to have a row, tonight of all nights? And over something so stupid, too.
Up until dinner tonight, her romantic minibreak with Gabe had been going perfectly. They’d slept and cuddled – after so many miscarriages they were both too scared to have sex while she was pregnant – and gone for long country walks along the river. They’d talked about the farm, and her idea for a new TV series, and their future together as a family. But then, this evening, the conversation had turned randomly to education. Gabe had mentioned something about boarding school; Laura had said she didn’t like the idea of their son being sent away from home – a son who hadn’t even been born yet, never mind expressed his educational preferences! – and before they knew it things had descended into a vicious, knockdown drag-out fight. Gabe had accused Laura of everything from snobbery to trying to turn their child gay. In response, Laura had branded Gabe a sexist and a moron, and it had all gone downhill from there. Gabe paid the bill and they returned to their room, but the fight raged on. In the end Laura got so angry she packed a bag, grabbed the car keys and drove off into the night back to Fittlescombe. Fucking Gabe could get a fucking taxi in the morning on his own. She hoped it cost him a fortune.
She first saw the smoke from about a mile away, as she rounded the top of the hill that wound down into the valley at Brockhurst.
Odd time for a bonfire
,
she thought.
And no one burns stubble in July.
It was only as she drew nearer to the village that she saw the flames leaping into the night sky and realized with horror that the fire was coming from their farm.
Pulling up outside, she jumped out of the car and was immediately hit by a wall of hot air that made her gasp. Thick black smoke poured out of the hay barn. The two stables nearest to the barn were also on fire. Within minutes it would reach the house.
Instinctively Laura ran into the stable yard to check the horses, but all the stalls were empty.
Thank God.
Logan must have taken them out to the paddock already. That meant she would have called the fire brigade as well. But where the hell were they? Running back to the car, Laura pulled out her mobile and dialled 999.
‘Fire!’ she panted. ‘At Wraggsbottom Farm in Fittlescombe.’
The operator assured her a crew was already on its way. They’d had two calls from neighbours, apparently. Laura hung up and ran into the house. Grabbing the fire extinguisher in the kitchen, she shouted upstairs for Logan, but there was no reply. Perhaps she was still out in the field, dealing with the horses?
Running back out as fast as she could with her pregnant belly, she heard the sirens of the fire engines coming down the hill from the main road. They would be here in moments, but the fire seemed to be intensifying and spreading with each passing second. Getting as close to the front door of the barn as she dared, Laura pulled the pin on the extinguisher and began to spray white foam at the entrance. The flames immediately receded, replaced by black smoke so thick it almost felt solid, like a deathly, choking cloth.
That was when she heard it. A scream, loud, shrill and terrified.
‘Logan!’ Laura yelled back into the blackness. Still spraying foam in front of her, and with a hand clasped over her mouth, she moved into the doorway of the barn. ‘Logan! Are you in there?’
No words, just another scream. This one louder than before and blood-curdling. The sound came from somewhere very close, only feet away. But both the heat and smoke were utterly disorienting. On instinct, Laura moved to the right, coughing violently as she tried to hold the extinguisher aloft. She heard the sirens behind her, very loud now. Were they here?
‘Hold on Logan,’ she shouted. Just the effort of breathing was painful. ‘I’m coming!’
It took Gabe about four minutes to realize he’d been a complete tool, and another twenty minutes to swallow his pride sufficiently to pack a bag, call a taxi and follow his wife back to Fittlescombe. Boarding school! He didn’t even care about bloody boarding school. He wasn’t one of ‘those’ dads, the kind who live vicariously through their sons. And he
certainly
didn’t believe that boys needed to be sent away to be toughened up, or any of that nonsense that he may or may not have said to Laura, in the heat of the moment and after the better part of a bottle of Newton unfiltered Merlot.
As the cab made its irritatingly slow way through the deserted Sussex countryside, Gabe tried to understand what it was that made him pick these stupid fights with Laura. He loved her. He’d always loved her, and needed her, now more than ever. But it was a love tinged with fear. The truth was, Laura was the only woman that Gabe Baxter had ever truly loved. Deep down he still couldn’t quite believe that she’d chosen him. As a result, he lived his inner life on a constant state of alert, watching and waiting for Laura to leave him, to trade him in for someone more worthy. Now that she was pregnant with his child, the stakes had got even higher. Angry at himself for needing her so desperately, and determined not to show his weakness, he ended up drinking too much and lashing out, pushing away the very person that he was most terrified of losing.
It was a crappy pattern, one he knew he had to knock on the head before the baby was born. All the flirting with other women – it was all a front, but it hurt Laura sometimes and he knew it. If he were honest with himself, Gabe even enjoyed Logan Cranley’s obvious adulation. He still thought of her as a kid in most ways, but there was no doubt that physically Logan was all woman. And a seriously sexy woman at that. Her desire for him made Gabe feel comforted on some level. Relaxed. It made him feel as if he had options.
Options for what?
he asked himself angrily, as they crested the top of the Downs and the Swell Valley spread out below them beneath a blanket of stars.
You’re a sad bastard, Gabe Baxter, and you need to get a fucking grip.
He was in danger of turning into Dylan Pritchard Jones at this rate, and that was a fate worse than death.
‘Something’s going on down there,’ observed the taxi driver. ‘Look at all those lights. And the smoke. Must be a big fire.’
The hairs on the back of Gabe’s neck pricked up. He knew he was being irrational, but he needed to get to Laura, now. To hold her in his arms and tell her he was sorry. To make sure she was safe.
‘Can you go a bit faster?’ he asked.
Laura found Logan just a few feet back from the barn door. She could barely make out her features through the thick smoke, but she felt the panic as Logan gripped her forearm, her nails digging in so deeply they drew blood.
‘It’s all right,’ said Laura. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’
‘I can’t move!’ Logan sobbed. ‘My leg. Something fell on my leg.’
Reaching down, Laura felt around in the darkness. Some sort of timber, perhaps a beam from the collapsing roof, covered Logan’s left leg near the ankle. One pull told her instantly it was too heavy to lift. But perhaps they could roll it off?
‘Lean towards me. I’m going to try to push it forwards. You try too, on the count of three.’
‘I can’t!’ Logan was hysterical. ‘I tried! It won’t budge!’
‘Yes it will,’ said Laura, with a confidence she was far from feeling.
Where the fuck were those firemen?
The heat was so intense it was hard to speak. Above them, the roof seemed alive with flames. If they didn’t get out of here soon, it would collapse.
‘All your strength now.’ She squeezed Logan’s hand. ‘One. Two. THREE!’
Without thinking she closed her eyes and focused every shred of energy and strength on the beam. At first nothing happened. But then very suddenly, like a well of oil erupting from the ground, the heavy wood rolled forwards, releasing Logan and coming to rest a few feet away, between the women and the door.
‘Come on!’ Laura pulled Logan, who let out a hideous cry of pain. Her lower left leg was clearly badly injured. There was no way she could stand.
‘Crawl!’ commanded Laura, who was too weak to pull her out alone. ‘I can pull you under the shoulders but you have to help me.’
‘I can’t,’ Logan wailed. She obviously meant it. She was trying to move, her face contorted with pain, but nothing happened.
For the first time, Laura felt a creeping panic. The barn could collapse at any moment. They may only have seconds. Glancing behind her, the flames that she thought she had put out around the doorway seemed to have fought back somehow. She could still see the way out, but only barely. She knew she had to get out now, but she couldn’t leave Logan.
‘Try again,’ said Laura. But all her earlier confidence and surety had gone. ‘Please.’
And then it happened. Like a miracle, Laura felt powerful male arms around her. She was being pulled backwards, out through the heat and flames and smoke, out into air that felt cold and strange and wonderful. She closed her eyes. Somewhere along the way she lost her grip on Logan’s hand. But when she opened her eyes outside, she saw Logan’s haggard face lying next to her. She was aware of a deep, wonderful, almost orgasmic sense of relief.
Then she closed her eyes again, and all was white and peace.
By the time Gabe arrived, the yard was swarming with firemen. The main fire in the barn was already out. Only a shell was left; a black, charred skeleton of the building that had once been. The flames in the stables and outbuildings – what was left of them – were being brought under control. A small crowd of villagers huddled together in horrified silence, watching the crews at work.
‘My wife!’ Gabe pushed his way through the crowd like so many skittles. ‘My wife was here. Is she OK?’
‘You’re the owner? This is your farm?’ The foreman of the fire crew came over, removing his hat and wiping the sweat off his brow with his arm.
‘WHERE’S MY WIFE?’ Gabe was shrieking like a madman. He looked ready to punch the guy’s lights out.
‘Is your wife pregnant? The foreman asked.
Gabe nodded.
‘She’s been taken into hospital.’