Tabitha swore, her battery had been low when she had hurried over to her office to print the pages. In her haste, she had forgotten to charge it. The charging cable in Edith’s room for her ancient iPad did not fit Tabitha’s newer iPhone. She suddenly felt very alone.
‘No,’ she said aloud, reassured by the sound of her own voice, ‘the emergency services are on their way. Tamar and Billy will be here soon. I’m not alone. I have people who love me and people who I love.’
Straining her ears for the sound of sirens, she ran into the bathroom and turned on both taps on the huge free-standing claw-footed bath as Billy had instructed. Next, she rummaged through the linen cupboard and dragged out as many sheets and duvet covers as she could find, flinging them into the water. She added a few pillowcases too, thinking they would be useful to protect their faces. Turning around, she noticed a fold-up wheelchair tucked discreetly into the corner of the bathroom.
‘Yes!’ she exclaimed in triumph.
Molly had delivered it to Edith a week earlier, suggesting it might be useful, but the older woman had refused to use it. Tabitha had been unsure where it had been stored, but now the wheelchair was a lifeline. Dragging it from its hiding place, she opened it and ran back with it into the bedroom. Gulliver was stirring.
‘Gull, I need you to wake up,’ Tabitha said, sitting beside him and slapping his hand. ‘There’s no time to explain, but we’re trapped in Edith’s suite.’
He stared at her through unfocused eyes.
‘The house is on fire,’ she said. ‘We need to hide in the bathroom until help arrives.’
Tabitha glanced over her shoulder, smoke was curling under the door of the bedroom, the temperature inside the room was increasing and a roaring noise filled the air.
‘Gull, help me lift Edith into the wheelchair,’ she demanded, but he slumped forward again, incapable, uncomprehending.
Tabitha wanted to scream in frustration.
‘Calm,’ she said out loud, speaking her intentions aloud to quell her panic. She placed the wheelchair beside Edith’s bed. ‘I’ll move Edith first, then Gull.’
With great care, Tabitha pulled back the pale blue sheets and slid her arms under Edith’s prone body; summoning all her strength, she lifted. Edith weighed little more than a child. Tabitha placed her in the wheelchair, positioning her feet on the footrests and strapping her in, before grabbing a soft blanket from the bed and Edith’s favourite bed jacket from the pillow beside her. She pushed her into the bathroom with as much speed as she could manage. Tears were streaming down Tabitha’s face as she checked Edith’s pulse again. It was faint, but regular.
A low armchair was positioned by the ornate marble fireplace and trying not to jolt Edith, Tabitha half lifted, half dragged her into the chair, running back into the bedroom to gather more cushions and blankets, which she arranged around the older woman as quickly as she could. The heat was intensifying and as she propped the final pillow behind Edith, there was a sickening crash and roar, as the door between Edith’s living room and bedroom breached.
‘Gull!’ Tabitha screamed and ran back into the bedroom.
Flames licked at the bookcases on either side of the door, eagerly destroying all in their path, the rug and carpet smouldered like devils and smoke filled the room, penetrating, intense, deadly. Fire leapt up the curtains and raced towards Gulliver, who remained immobile beside the bed.
Tabitha forced the wheelchair over the carpet, sweat mingling with the tears on her cheeks.
‘No,’ she shouted irrationally at the flames, ‘you shan’t have him.’ And from nowhere, the old family poem sprang into her mind:Feather, flame and whisper bind – what is lost, the heart will find.
She pushed this unexpected thought aside and shook Gulliver. He opened strangely blank eyes.
‘What’s going on…?’ he slurred.
‘You have to help me,’ shouted Tabitha in panic, hauling on his hand, ‘get into the wheelchair.’
‘What…?’ he murmured.
‘Move, Gull,’ she demanded, yanking him forward.
The flames edged nearer and Tabitha summoned all her courage to stand between the wall of heat and Gulliver as she dragged him forwards. She felt sure they would perish at any moment, then, as Gulliver pushed himself to the edge of his seat, she was able to manhandle him into the wheelchair. The intensity of the heat was agonising.
‘No,’ she gasped, ‘you won’t take another man I love, he’s my twin flame. “Feather, flame and whisper bind – what is lost, the heart will find.”’
There was a roar behind her as she pushed the wheelchair with all her might and the flames, which had seemed ready to engulf them, split into two, then bent away from her, changing direction, moving to the other side of the room, leaving a clear path for her and Gulliver to escape. Tabitha heaved Gulliver, a dead weight in the wheelchair, into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.
She could not believe what she had seen, the flames had divided before leaning away from her: had she been hallucinating?
A voice echoed around her mind,‘You’re a natural-born witch, Tabitha. The feather flame is there to save the Mott-Drayson women, the descendants of the Boleyns, the Woodvilles, the Saint Pols. Blow the whistle.’
Pushing these thoughts aside, convinced smoke inhalation was making her delirious, Tabitha forced herself to use the last of her energy to wring out several sheets. She threw them on the floor, pushing them with all her might into the gap at the bottom of the door.
With the back of her hand, she wiped away her tears, checking on Edith, whose pulse was faint but regular before returning to Gulliver. She placed a pillow behind his head, but she felt less sure about his progress. His pulse had weakened and was erratic.
