CHAPTER 37
I stood outside the car in shock. The place stank of wet smoke, of burnt plastic and cloth. I knew, at that point, with absolute conviction that the bastards had finally got one of us, and cursed my lack of conviction in dragging her off to foreign parts.

Em came up and hugged me, as Tom took a closer look.

“Aye, Stevie, tha’ll have to stay in the Inn tonight, teach me to play about with me stove in a power cut”

She was stood behind me, dressings on her hands, and I couldn’t help breaking down completely in tears as I hugged the most important person in my life along with Iain. Em and Sally were sobbing with relief, and I almost crushed her in my broken-hearted joy. The cottage was burnt, but she was here, whole, and that was all that mattered.

She led us into the bar, where Arthur’s wife Meg was serving, and the man himself came out with similar dressing on his arms and what looked like a sunburnt face. There was something odd about it, and then I realised that he had lost his eyebrows.

“Arthur saw the flames, lad, and I was the wrong side of them, and then the stairs were ahad, so the daft big bugger puts the door in and comes through the fire for us, so I’ll be saying thanks for a while”

Arthur looked embarrassed at the praise, but I could see how much damage he had done in getting her out.

“Aye, Stevie, I’ll be billing Ada for a new shirt and jacket, the old’uns are a bit spoiled”

Nana filled us in on the rest of the story, of a night with a power cut that left her without lights or electric kettle, and so she had set up the old primus as always, happy to brew on the old kitchen table, but something had distracted her, she said, and putting the stove down onto the table she had somehow missed the edge, and the stove had fallen onto the fuel container underneath. She hadn’t capped it, it fell over, and before she knew what was happening something akin to a hand grenade had gone off in the kitchen, leaving her caught between an inside wall and the flames.

“Aye” said Arthur, “and one of the old lads says, has Ada got some giant bloody candles on in there, cause it’s all flickering, and then I realise the front room door’s alight, and then the stairs, so I goes round to the back, and I can see her in the kitchen all stuck like, so I puts the back door in and gets her out”

As simple as that, as he told it. In fact, he had tried the front door but the flames were roaring, and at the back they were just a little lower. Seeing his friend trapped he had put his boot to the locked door and taken the jamb out with sheer strength, before taking the soaked blanket he had called for from his wife and charging through the flames to throw it over Nana as his hair caught fire, all but throwing her out of the back door to where the pub customers were forming a bucket chain to try and contain the blaze until the Brigade arrived. Three of the regulars had doused him with water as he stumbled out, coughing from the smoke. The bulk of the house had been saved, structurally, but the contents had been ruined, and I realised with a catch in my throat that that would include almost all of the pictures I had of my father and mother, or even myself as a proper boy. Another link with the reality of my past had just snapped.

I looked at Arthur, though, in a new light. He had done something that most people could never have faced, and it had not been done without thought, for he had prepared himself before going in. No sudden rush of blood to the head, but steady courage, and I couldn’t help it when I walked over and hugged him tight. I could see the blisters on his nose and ears, and the shine of the ointment.

“Arthur…I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing to be said, lad, Ada’s family, in a way, and it's what tha do , isn’t it?”

No, you great soft love, it isn’t what you do, or at least not always. There were more people out there who would have stood outside and watched in terror and futility than those who would calmly set about saving a life. I owed this man, and I owed Nana.

I started to laugh, as the reality struck me. Nana was puzzled, at first, then she realised, almost telepathically, and joined in. It was Emily who didn’t get it.

“What’s the joke, Steve?”

Nana was howling, but managed to get out a few words.

“Lass---before some woman marries this lad for his money----this woman here is going to have spent it all!”

She knew me well, that hard little terrier, so well. If there was one thing my cash and compensation was for, it was family. Her cottage was stone, it could be rescued, rebuilt. The old lives and memories it contained were lost, so we would have to work hard to make new ones to fill its walls when it was fit again for our family.

I think that was the final proof, if I had ever needed proof, that my first and last hope, my strength and shield, was as Val had suggested, the people around me, family, friends. Nana hadn’t asked for the money to renew her home, she hadn’t needed to. She knew I would give it, without being asked, just as I knew without doubt that there was nothing else to do, and nothing I would rather do. Life is love, life is people.

Emily suddenly understood, and giggled, “I was right, I’m not marrying you for your money, then!”

That was the second time, and Nana gave her a sharp look.

Arthur had already set aside rooms for us, and I was gratified to see how he had simply and without fuss put Emily and myself into a double. Tom rang Kieran to explain the delay, and once more there was a moment devoid of argument or fuss where my brother was left to comfort his grandmother rather than rushed home. We saw Tom off with his lady, then settled down for a simple meal with Arthur while Meg fed him, as his hands were too swathed to hold the fork. I was a little worried about that, but he just said they were bulky dressings rather than full-thickness burns.

“Besides” he said as another carefully sliced mouthful of rump steak was held before his mouth, “I could get used to this!”

That night, I was still stressed, and Em could feel it, and without anything other than sighs and soft moans she proceeded to do things to and with me that were almost more than I could take, and I did my best to return the favour.

Twice now she had mentioned marriage. Could we do it? Could someone as damaged as me make a go of it? I fell asleep with her hand on my breast and her head on my shoulder, our hair tangled together.

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It turned out that Nana did actually have rather good insurance, as befitted such a shrewd old lady, and while I shelled out to get the place habitable again I was down to get a large proportion of it back. As usual, Brian knew someone who knew someone else, and a lot of the work done was at a very good price. We had a very daft weekend once the structure was sound, with paint and rollers and great silliness decorating the place, and then I sorted out a deal with Arthur for what can only be called a beer-garden party for the merry band who had passed pots and bins and buckets from hand to hand to keep the blaze as much under control as they could. We had music and other happiness, and I got to dance with my girl in public as the Summer wound down to our entry into University.

Miss Graham’s sadism, helped on by her torturers Sally, and Mr Calvert and the rest, had got me enough of a boost in my exam results to swing a place in college for me.

I was off to Bangor, to read history, for Mr Calvert’s eclectic approach to his subject had swung me from English, while Emily had stuck with that subject. She was also sticking with me. We were both off to North Wales for three years. Beaches, mountains, intellectual stimulation, and bloody good climbing.

Does life get any better?

The only doubt that was gnawing at me was the obvious one. I had become almost a household name in Cumbria, partly because of the failed rescue but mainly because of three years of hell in Castle Keep. There was almost a collective sense of guilt in the community, which was a relief. Some places would have closed ranks, perhaps blamed me, but the sheer scale of the horror that had been revealed left no room for that, and the utter raving insanity of the Cunninghams sealed it. The people involved had moved beyond revulsion to the sort of territory occupied by Jack the Ripper or perhaps the Bogeyman who hides under your bed or in the wardrobe.

That meant that my big-arsed and fat-titted figure drew no nasty comments, just stares and shudders. Would it be the same in Bangor, especially with Emily dangling all over me? Well, they would have three years to get used to me. And once more I clung to that mantra, FTW and hold fast to family.