Constable Richardson cleared her throat, breaking the tense silence. ‘I can arrange for alternative accommodation. It might be tricky, with it being Christmas– but there are shelters… women’s shelters.’ She looked at me questioningly.
‘We won’t be separated,’ I said forcefully. ‘No… the four of us will be staying together.’
She nodded. ‘I will call around, see what I can find.’ We watched as Constable Richardson walked away.
‘You’re going to leave Grandma alone?’ whispered Martha.
I looked down at her and stroked the back of her dark hair. ‘I think it’s safer for us,’ I said quietly. ‘She will have an officer with her, and so will we.’
‘You think she’s the killer?’ Martha asked, her eyes widening.
‘Well, it’s not one of us…’ I trailed off. It seemed insane. But it was true. It was the only explanation.
I watched Miles comforting Jeannie a few yards away.
Callum leaned into me and said under his breath, ‘Once she’s in prison, do you think we’ll get the money?’
My gaze landed on him; his eyes were fixed on Jeannie.
‘Maybe…’ I said, my stomach flipping a little. ‘But don’t say anything to your father.’
Callum scoffed. ‘I would never.’
The three of us sat there, watching. Contemplating.
The night wore on, a blur of flashing lights and hushed conversations. Constable Richardson returned, informing us she’d found a nearby Airbnb with availability for the night. As we prepared to leave, I caught Miles’s eye. He looked lost, torn between his mother and us.
‘Miles,’ I called softly. ‘We need to go. The kids need to get some rest.’
He nodded, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. ‘Mother,’ he said turning to Jeannie, ‘you should come with us.’
Jeannie’s eyes darted between Miles and me, then to the children. ‘No,’ she said, her voice eerily calm. ‘I’ll stay here. There’s… so much to sort out.’
I felt a chill run down my spine at her words. Was she planning her next move?
As we climbed into the police car that would take us to the Airbnb, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The acrid smell of smoke still clung to our clothes, a grim reminder of the night’s events.
The ride to the apartment we were staying in was silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Martha had fallen asleep, her head resting on Callum’s shoulder. Miles stared out of the window, his face unreadable in the passing streetlights.
At the apartment, we looked around the small living room and trendy kitchenette. We had nothing– no toothbrushes, no pyjamas– and we stank of smoke. Our clothes would most definitely need to go in the bin. One by one, we took showers. I washed my hair three times and scrubbed my skin until it was red raw and then wrapped myself in a clean towel.
As I said goodnight to Callum and Martha, she turned to me and mumbled, ‘Are we awful for leaving Grandma alone?’
I put my hand on her cheek, my heart heavy. ‘She didn’t want to come, sweetheart. Try not to worry, okay? Please try to get some sleep.’
I joined Miles in the other room. He paced the room, before sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed.
‘I can’t believe this,’ he muttered. ‘Mrs Harlow.’ He looked at me, sorrow lining his eyes. ‘She was more like a mother to me than mine ever was.’
I went to him and folded him into my chest. ‘I know. I’m so sorry, Miles.’ The words felt empty and redundant. There was nothing I could say to ease his pain. Instead, I asked, ‘What happened? Did the firefighters tell you anything about how it started?’
He shook his head, his eyes tinged with pink. ‘They think it was an ember from the fire in Madge’s room. You know how old houses just tend to go up quickly. Perhaps the fireguard wasn’t on… Perhaps someone got in…’ He held his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving. I so desperately wanted to take his pain away, but I just continued to hold him.
* * *
In the cold light of Christmas morning, we were awoken by DCI Randolf practically beating down the front door. I jolted upright in bed, my heart racing as the pounding on the door echoed through the room. Miles was already up, fumbling with the lock. As the door swung open, DCI Randolf burst in, his face grim and determined.
‘Mr and Mrs Weiss,’ he ground out between his clenched teeth, ‘what the hell happened?’
