‘Howcouldyou let this happen, Floss?’
We’re on sound only but I don’t need to see Sophie’s face to tell she’s apoplectic. She’s also holding me a hundred per cent responsible for Milla’s hairdressing mishap slash act of wanton defiance.
As kids, the only way to deal with Sophie’s wrath was to run. But she was always faster than me, and her signature move was to catch hold of my ponytail as I fled. I can still feel the searing pain in my scalp as she wrenched out a handful of hair, right up to the time my legs grew longer than hers and I could outrun her.
But there’s no point me arguing about this. Milla and Co. aren’t babies, and for me to watch them every second would be impossibleandinappropriate. I’m desperately hoping Sophie won’t use this as an excuse to stop them coming round to the hut because the thought of a Saturday without them is dismal. And that’s nothing to do with the ten-pound notes they each insisted on giving me to put toward my expenses. When I put that with the payments from my Insta ladies, who pop in for a ‘lucky dip’ breakfast more days than not, I’m getting quite a haul.
I hold the phone away from my ear until I hear Sophie’s shouts subside, then I tiptoe in with my apology.
‘If I’d hadanyidea what was going on I’d have watched them more closely. I’m sorry that I didn’t.’ I’m looking out watching the girls running across the sand taking wood from the pile. ‘You should see how hard they’re working with the fire-building.’
Sophie lets out a long sigh. ‘It could be worse. Google says one wash withHead and Shouldersand it should be gone.’
It’s my turn to take a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid the dye Milla’s used is permanent. But her blonde hair growing out will look amazing.’ I can’t help laughing. ‘This is karma coming back to bite you. You dyedyourhair black, remember, and Mum went ape?’ I’m looking down at Shadow, his nose stretched in the air. ‘You could be pleased Milla’s expressing herself?’
I’m watching sea mist drifting across the front deck, knowing that if Sophie comes down too hard it will only make things worse. Except how come the mist is rolling from the direction of the hotel rather than off the sea? Then a tickle in my nose makes me look again.
‘Is that smoke?’ As I walk over for a better view, Sophie’s mulling which of Milla’s privileges to withdraw. ‘Typical! High Tides choose the one day when the wind is blowing in this direction to light a bonfire. And it has to be huge if the smoke’s carrying this far.’
As I cross to the side window there are prickles of anger rising up my neck. But what I see as I look out across the dunes turns my stomach to stone.
‘We weren’t supposed to light the campfirethisearly.’ It comes out as a whimper. ‘And who decided to build itright next to the hut?’ Here I am, blaming High Tides, and meanwhile my home is about to go up like an incendiary device.
‘What’s that about camping?’
I cut Sophie off. ‘I have to go…’ There’s no easy way to say the teenagers are about to raze the place to the ground. ‘I’ll ring you back.’
Even as I’m running for the door, pushing Shadow out in front of me, I can see the flames darting upwards beyond the side windows.
I hare off the deck and round the hut, press Shadow’s lead into Sarah’s hand and take in Milla and Tallulah, eyes wide, their hands flapping behind the roaring pile of driftwood.
‘We were trying to use a tampon for kindling like Bear Grylls does, Aunty Floss…’
‘What?’
‘We used a boxful and the whole lot went up.’ There’s a second of stunned silence. ‘What shall we do?’
For a terrible moment all I can see is the fire stretching outwards, licking towards the planks of the side wall, ready to engulf the whole place.
Tallulah’s shout breaks my trance. ‘Phone 999! Quick, Sadie!’
However fast they respond, by the time the fire engine arrives from St Aidan, my precious beach hut will be ashes.
Milla joins in. ‘Rye! He’s a fireman. We need Rye!’
That kicks me into action. ‘Kit!’ I’m stumbling across the soft sand of the dune, waving my arms, yelling so loud my lungs feel like they might burst. ‘Kit … help!’He’s the last person I want to call on given the way we parted. But before I reach the second hump, I catch sight of a figure tearing towards me. One glimpse of that crisp white shirt, my heart gives a lurch and the world stands still.
For a few crazy seconds in my head we’re running towards each other in slo-mo like lovers on a cheesy advert. And then as I catch a blast of his cologne on the breeze, then draw in a lungful of smoke, I crash back down to earth. We almost collide, then I whip around and I’m running beside him, panting to keep up.
‘What the hell are they doing, Floss?’
Trust Kit to have enough breath to talk, runandlug a massive fire extinguisher. Even so it takes an age to make it across the last fifty yards. By the time we slide to a halt, the searing heat coming off the fire is scorching our cheeks. He balances the extinguisher on his knee, rips out a pin, and a second later he’s spraying foam like he just won a Grand Prix.
Then the flames are gone and when we stand back and find we’re staring down at a pile of charred logs, it feels like a bit of an anti-climax.
‘Thank frig you came, Kit, we were moments away from The Hideaway going up like a fireball. You’ve saved me again.’
He shrugs and raises one eyebrow. ‘All in a day’s work for a superhero.’
