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‘Right, guv,’ they chorused.
The fire alarm was shrilling; there were four adults and a number of children marshalled on the grass at the side of the building furthest from the fire.
One of them came straight over to the fire crew. Clearly the head or one of Finn’s teachers, Kelsey thought from the way she greeted Ray—she obviously knew him.
‘What happened, Brenda?’ he asked.
‘I heard a bang, then the smoke detectors went off. I think the boiler must have exploded,’ Brenda said. ‘I’ve got one of the after-school groups out but the other’s cut off in the far end. One teacher, two assistants and around twenty kids.’
Ray called in to Control. ‘I want another engine in and as many BA sets as you can give me,’ he said. When fighting a fire, the crew went through breathing apparatus sets more quickly than usual, so they needed as many available as possible. ‘We’ve got three adults and twenty or so kids trapped. We’re going to get them out and start on the blaze.’ He turned back to Brenda. ‘Any flammable stuff we need to know about?’
‘Most of the classrooms have art materials. Paper, glue, paint and the like. There’s the chemistry stuff in the lab, but that’s at the far end.’
‘Near the trapped kids. So far, not near the fire. OK, we’ll bear that in mind.’ He nodded and turned to the crew. ‘We’ll split the building into three sectors. Andy and Neil, I want you two in sector one where the boiler is. Pete and Tom, I want you in sector two, the classrooms between the boiler room and the toilets in the middle of the school. Kelsey and Mark, I want you in sector three—the far end of the school. It doesn’t look as if the fire’s there yet so get them out as quickly as you can. We’ll see how the fire’s going after that, and I might need you to work on the science lab.’
They all checked in with Paul, handing him the tallies from their breathing apparatus sets. He slotted them into the board, wrote their names and the time in beside them, checked the pressure of the oxygen cylinders and used the dial to work out the time when they needed to be out, and marked that on the grid next to it.
Kelsey and Mark took axes with them and headed for the classroom at the far end.
‘Has to be a window,’ Mark said.
The windows were tall and narrow, typically Victorian. ‘I’m thinner than you,’ Kelsey said when they’d cleared the glass from one of the frames. ‘Makes sense for me to go in.’ She unbuckled her breathing apparatus.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Mark demanded, sounding shocked.
‘There’s no smoke in the classroom right now so I don’t need my BA set—and, anyway, it’s easier for me to climb through the window without the extra bulk, let alone carrying the thirty pounds of kit,’ Kelsey said. ‘Give us a leg up.’
‘But, Brains—’
‘No time to argue. Let’s get them out.’
‘OK, but I’m putting the BA set through after you. And you make sure you put it on when you get back in,’ he demanded, ‘even if you don’t have the mask on.’
‘Deal.’ She clambered onto the window-sill with Mark’s help and squeezed through the gap, then took the breathing apparatus he pushed through after her. ‘Hi, my name’s Kelsey. You might remember me from last week when Finn’s dad brought the fire engine in,’ she said, smiling at the children. ‘Now, we’re going to have to go out of the room a different way today, because we can’t use the door.’ No smoke was seeping through it yet, but there were no guarantees it would stay that way. ‘Can you all be brave for me?’
Some of the younger ones were sobbing. The sound ripped at her but she forced herself to ignore it. She had a job to do. And her first duty was to calm everyone right down. Giving in to her emotions and crying or screaming herself would just scare everyone and make it harder to get them out.
‘Hey, give us a smile. Makes it easier to lift you,’ she said. She turned to the three adults, who’d been trying to keep the children calm. ‘I need one of you to help me lift the children through the window, and two of you outside—one to help lift them out into the playground and one to check off the names.’
‘I’m Jane, the classroom assistant. I’ll stay inside,’ the youngest one said immediately.
‘Thanks. Can you get them all to line up, littlest at the front? And can you two help me get a table to the window?’ she asked the other two adults.
Together, they dragged a table to the window. The two older women clambered onto the table, squeezed through the window and were helped down by Mark. Then, between them, Kelsey and Jane lifted the children one at a time onto the table and handed them through the window into Mark’s waiting arms.
‘Just think, you can tell your mum what an exciting day you’ve had and how you’ve climbed through the window like a real firefighter,’ Kelsey said, trying to reassure the children.
A couple of the kids were still crying.
‘But it’s not exciting. There’s a fire, we’re trapped and we’re all going to die!’ one of the older kids said, his voice shrill with panic.
‘There’s a fire, yes. But I’m a firefighter and I’m going to put the blaze out,’ she told him calmly. ‘You can’t go through the door, but you’re not trapped because we’re lifting you out through the window. And you are most definitely not going to die. Not when Yellow Watch is here.’
‘Finn’s daddy is a fireman,’ one of them piped up.
‘That’s right. He’s a very good fireman. And he’s my boss. So you’re all going to be absolutely fine,’ Kelsey reassured her, continuing to lift the children out through the window one by one. ‘Just stay still so we can get you through safely, because there’s broken glass around here and I don’t want any of you to get cut.’
But the boy who’d panicked earlier struggled as she lifted him through the window. Immediately, he cried out. ‘My leg!’
He was wearing shorts, so the streak of blood was visible on his leg immediately. Quite a deep cut, from the jagged glass around the smashed window—and there was a chance that there was some glass in the wound. At least it wasn’t spurting blood, she thought, so he hadn’t nicked an artery. ‘OK, sweetheart, we’ll sort you out. Just hold still and we’ll get you out to safety. I know it hurts, but one of the ambulance team will look at your leg and make sure you’re OK. And I think they have bravery awards for special boys,’ she soothed. ‘Mark, is the ambo team here yet?’
‘We certainly are,’ a deep voice informed her.
Matt. She didn’t even need to look to know it was him. And suddenly the tension in her shoulders began to ease. Everything was going to be fine: there was nobody she’d trust more for support. She grinned. ‘Hey. What kept you, slowcoach?’
‘We don’t have the same go-faster stripes as your lot,’ he teased back. ‘You OK, Kels?’
‘Sure. Four more to go and we’re out of here. Can you look at this young man’s leg for me? And I think he might need a bravery award as well.’
‘Sounds about right. Come on, mate, I’ll carry you over to the ambulance,’ Matt said, taking the child from her. ‘We’ll sort out that cut and get you a special award.’
When she and Jane had handed the last child through, Kelsey asked, ‘That’s definitely everyone?’
Jane nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Good. Through you go.’ Kelsey helped her through the window into Mark’s arms. She’d pushed her BA set back through to Mark and was halfway through the gap in the window herself—protected by her gloves and fire gear—when one of the children called, ‘Where’s Mikey and Lucy?’
Ah, hell. She should’ve thought. In situations like these, the kids were usually better at knowing who was there and who wasn’t than the teachers—they remembered if their friend was in late because they’d been to the dentist, or had gone home early because they’d been sick. Registers were only accurate at the time they were taken—all sorts of things could change during the school day.
The class teacher did a head count and was clearly running through the register in her mind. ‘They’re not here.’
‘They were definitely in today?’ At the teacher’s nod, Kelsey asked, ‘Where are they likely to be?’
‘Heaven knows with Mikey—he’s never still for more than three seconds,’ the teacher said, sounding grim.
‘You’re sure he isn’t out there and hasn’t just slipped out of the line and gone onto the playground or something?’
The teacher shook her head. ‘They’re all strictly in line, except Edward, who’s in the ambulance having his leg patched up.’
‘Right. I’ll go back and check the cupboards,’ Kelsey said. Sometimes a fire scared kids so much that they’d hide in a confined space. ‘Or maybe they’ve gone to the toilet. I’ll check. What do they look like?’
‘Mikey’s tall and skinny, blond hair, and Lucy’s small and dark-haired,’ Jane told her. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Kelsey shook her head. ‘No, it’s too dangerous. Stay there and see if any of the kids remember them disappearing, or if they heard where Mikey or Lucy was planning to go. Any news, contact me on my radio. Where are the toilets?’
‘Out of the door, turn right, and they’re on the left-hand side at the end of the corridor.’
Near the flames. OK. Kelsey climbed back through the window. ‘Mark, give me the BA set. The pressure’s at 300 so I’ve got forty minutes.’
He handed the set through. ‘Forty minutes in normal conditions—but you know it’s less than that in a fire. I want you on your way back when the pressure’s down to 200.’ Which was less than halfway through the cylinder, because she needed to leave a safety margin. You had to be prepared for anything in a fire. ‘Keep in radio contact, and as soon as you’re in a compartment with smoke do a left-hand search from the doorway,’ Mark added.
A left-hand search meant keeping her left hand in contact with the wall. Then, if she wasn’t back to her starting point when the pressure in her oxygen tank reached 200, she’d turn round so her right hand was against the wall and work her way back. In a smoke-filled room, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, so working by touch was the only way to get back where you started.
Mikey, who was never still for more than three seconds…tall and skinny and blond…Kelsey remembered him now from Yellow Watch’s recent visit to the school. He’d touched everything and fiddled with things, but he’d also been quickwitted and taken everything she’d said on board when she’d shown him round the engine, asked lots of questions and said he really wanted to be a firefighter when he was older. If he managed to contain his energy, he’d be a good one, Kelsey thought.
She put her breathing apparatus set on her back but left the mask off. ‘Mikey? Lucy? If you’re here, come out. You win the hiding game, but we need to get out of here.’
Silence.
She checked the cupboards in the classroom anyway. Nothing. ‘Classroom empty,’ she reported into her radio. ‘I’m going into the corridor.’ Which was full of smoke. ‘I’ll check the toilets first.’ Hopefully the kids would’ve remembered what they’d said at the talk last week: if you’re in a fire, get down because smoke rises.
And it was smoke that killed.
Left-hand search. She put her hand to the wall. Through her gloves, she could feel that the walls were panelled. Not good—because you could think you’d put a blaze out when the fire had actually travelled through the panelling and could break out somewhere else. She’d need to keep an eye out for white smoke, presaging of a flashover.
‘Lucy? Mikey?’ Her voice was muffled through the mask, but she couldn’t risk taking it off. ‘Scream if you can hear me. Scream as loud as you can.’
Nothing but the dull roar of the flames.
She made her way through to the toilets. Searched them thoroughly. ‘Nothing in the toilets,’ she said. ‘And all doors in the corridor are closed on the left-hand side. Ask Jane if there’s a room Mikey likes most.’
‘Roger.’ She heard Mark calling to Jane, then he reported back. ‘No, the kid could be anywhere.’
‘OK. I’ll do a room-by-room search.’
‘You’ve got two minutes before you need to turn round and come back,’ Mark warned.
‘I’m fine.’
‘I want you back out of there. We’ll get more people in to search each room,’ Mark said.
It was frustrating, but she knew he was talking sense. ‘OK. Turning round and coming back right-handed.’ Her hand trailed along the wall. ‘Hang on. I’ve got an open door here. It wasn’t open on my way in. I’m going to check this room.’
‘Brains, get out of there.’
She couldn’t. Not with two kids missing. ‘Two minutes. You said I had two minutes. And there’s the safety margin on top of that, so I’ve got loads of time. I’m closing the door behind me. There’s only a tiny bit of smoke in here, top of the room.’ Smoke always rose. But she needed to keep an eye on it in case the gases at the top of the room were superheated and there was a flashover. ‘I’m in the third room between the classroom and the toilets. Send the relief team in and I’ll hand over.’
‘Paul says get out now, Brains.’
‘Two minutes,’ she repeated stubbornly—though she really wanted five. ‘Lucy? Mikey? Are you there? You’re not going to be in trouble, I promise. But there’s a fire and I just want to get you out safely.’
‘Brains, you’re better at calculating than the rest of us—you don’t even need the dial on a BAECO board to work out how much time you have. You know the drill—if you put yourself in danger we’re risking the kids and yourself. Get out now,’ Mark demanded.
‘I’m fine, Mark. And I heard something. I heard someone crying just now. I think they’re here in the cupboard and they’re too scared to come out.’
‘Get out of there, Kelsey.’ A different voice this time. Matt’s. ‘I heard what Mark said. Get out. There’s another team coming in.’
‘I’m fine,’ she repeated stubbornly. ‘But you stay put because I might be bringing two kids out with smoke inhalation or burns, and I’ll need your help.’ She took her mask off for a moment. ‘Mikey, it’s Kelsey—remember me on the fire engine last week? You know me. You’re not in trouble, I promise. But I need you to act like a firefighter. And firefighters always have to tell each other where they are. I’m here near the door. Where are you? Is Lucy with you?’
The cupboard door opened. Mikey and a little girl were standing there, clutching each other and not moving.
‘It’s OK, we can get out of here.’ The hanging mask was going to be a hindrance. ‘I’m putting my mask back on and then we’re going to make a run for it, OK?’
She’d just fastened her mask and was halfway across the room when there was an almighty bang. Fire spurted out of the panelling and ripped over the ceiling—and suddenly there was a wall of flame between her and the kids. The fire roared and crackled as it burned up the oxygen in the room; the floor, being wooden, started smouldering. And she couldn’t get through the fire to the kids. It was too hot, too fierce, pushing her back. ‘Mark, the fire’s broken through here. Tell the guv.’ She grabbed the fire extinguisher, but it didn’t even begin to get through the flames. There was a sink but the water pressure wouldn’t be enough to make an impact on the flames. But she could at least grab some cloths, soak them and bundle them round the kids, then haul them through the flames. Please, God, the floor would hold out long enough for her to get them.
It took seconds to find the towels, and seconds more to douse them in cold water.
But the pressure from the fire was too much. She just couldn’t get through the wall of flames.
‘Get down!’ she yelled to the children. ‘Get down and put your nose down through the neck of your T-shirts so you’re breathing in through the material.’ The lower they were, the less likely they’d be to inhale the smoke—the lowest part of the room was always the last to be choked with gases. And breathing through their clothes would at least put a barrier between them and the smoke. Not ideal, but it was the best they could do in the circumstances.
She could hear the children screaming, a high-pitched sound of sheer terror.
Oh, hell, why couldn’t she get through? She took a deep breath. OK. If she made a run for it, she’d get through the flames. She’d be able to bundle the wet cloths over the kids. And hopefully the relief team would put the flames out before the smoke was too much. Deep breath in. After three. One, two—
And someone lifted her off her feet.
‘No! I’ve got to—’
‘Out, Brains.’ She couldn’t see him through the smoke and his mask, but she recognised Mark’s muffled voice. ‘You’re out of oxygen,’ he said.
‘Just give me another tank. I can make it through to the kids.’
He didn’t argue. Just lifted her higher over his shoulder in the classic fireman’s lift, took her down the corridor and pushed her through the smashed window of the classroom they’d just evacuated.
Straight into Matt’s arms.
‘You bloody idiot, Kelsey!’ Matt yelled. ‘You put yourself at risk.’
She shook her head. Her throat felt raw but no way was she staying out here. ‘Give me a tank. I need to go back. They’re trapped. Two kids. I have to—’
‘You have to get medical treatment now,’ Matt cut in, and she realised that he was actually carrying her to his ambulance. Carrying her away from danger. ‘You were out of oxygen. You know damned well when it’s hot you use up more oxygen than normal. That’s why your crew goes through a ton of BA sets when you’re fighting a fire. You’ve inhaled smoke and I bet your throat’s hurting like crazy.’
It was—but she wasn’t going to admit it. ‘I saw them. I nearly had them safe, but the fire broke out,’ she rasped. ‘I was going to get through the flames. Where are they?’
Before Matt could answer, Ray was striding over towards them, swearing a blue streak. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing, Brains?’
‘I nearly had them. And I was in radio contact the whole time.’
‘Yes, but you didn’t do what you were told. You put yourself and other crew members in danger.’
‘Where are the kids? What’s going on?’
‘Stay put and let Matt check you over. That’s an order.’
OK. She’d let Matt check her over, and then she was going back in.
Then she realised that Matt was still cradling her in his arms. As if she were a precious piece of china. ‘You can put me down now,’ she muttered. ‘I can stand on my own two feet.’
He stared at her, looking shocked. Clearly he’d been holding her in his arms without realising what he was doing. In silence, he set her back on her feet and walked with her over to the ambulance.
By the time Matt had checked her over, Mark and the other crew were back out and had been replaced by the relief team. There were four more engines here now. Steam billowed upwards, mingling with the choking black smoke. And still the flames licked through the building. Still they roared. Still the heat blistered the air.
‘Mark, did you get the kids out?’ she asked urgently.
‘No. We couldn’t hear anyone in there either.’
‘Things are always muffled in the middle of a fire. The kids might be too scared to make a sound.’
‘Yeah.’ But his face said he didn’t believe it. That there was another reason why the kids were silent. A much, much worse reason. Especially when the smoke was thick and choking.
Then there was a shout as two firefighters ran towards them, carrying small bodies.
‘We’ve put oxygen on them,’ one of the firefighters said.
It was what he didn’t say that Kelsey heard. The but. A big but. They didn’t hold out much hope. The smoke and the heat might have taken too much of a toll on the small bodies.
Matt and Dale put the children straight in the ambulance; Matt stayed in the back, already checking them over, while Dale slammed the doors and scrambled into the driver’s seat. Siren going, the ambulance left the site.
‘Oh, God. I nearly got them out safely. Nearly,’ Kelsey whispered. ‘They’ve got to be all right.’ Please. They had to be all right.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOUR hours later, the fire was out. The building was blackened and charred in places, there was the smell of wet embers everywhere, and a mixture of smoke and steam hung in the air. The job was done—but the crew found no satisfaction in it. Not when two small lives hung in the balance.
Even though Kelsey had a shower and washed her hair when she got back to the fire station, she could still smell the smoke. Taste it. Feel it in her eyes. Feel it in the back of her throat.
She couldn’t stand the waiting any more. She needed to know. She called the hospital and got through to the reception desk in the emergency department. ‘I wondered if you could tell me how Mikey and Lucy are, the two kids brought in from the school fire?’
‘Are you a relative?’ the receptionist asked.
‘No, I’m one of the firefighters.’ The one who hadn’t got them out in time.
‘Sorry. I’m afraid we can’t give out information over the phone.’
Well, it was what she’d expected. ‘Thanks anyway.’ But there was another way she could find out. Someone else who could tell her. She speed-dialled Matt’s mobile number. Please, don’t let him be driving or in the hospital, when his phone would be diverted to his voicemail.
Well, it shouldn’t be. She’d ended up working past the end of her shift. He should be home now—or even if he’d gone out with the crew for a Friday evening post-shift drink, he’d have his mobile on.
She hoped.
To her relief, he answered his mobile within three rings. ‘Matt Fraser.’
‘Hey. It’s me.’
‘Is the fire out, or are you just having a break and change of crews?’
She smiled. Clearly he’d remembered that firefighters were relieved after a four-hour stint and took a break—a wash, change and something to eat and drink, then back at the front again. Well, he should know after eighteen months of sharing a house with her. ‘It’s out.’
‘Good. You on your way home now?’
‘Yeah.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Matt, I called the hospital. They wouldn’t tell me. Do you know how the kids are doing?’
‘Yes.’ There was a long, long pause that told her everything she didn’t want to know. ‘I’m sorry. They didn’t make it.’
She swore. ‘If I’d found them thirty seconds earlier—’
‘It’s not your fault, Kels. It really isn’t.’
So why did it feel that it was?
‘You did your best. So did Dale and I, on our way to the hospital. And the resus team when we got to the emergency department. But it wasn’t anybody’s fault. Who could have guessed that the boiler was going to go up like that? Or that the fire would spread that fast? Or that the kids had slipped out from the after-school club into another room and would hide in a cupboard when the fire alarm went off?’
‘Mmm.’ She didn’t trust herself to speak. Her eyes felt sore and gritty, and not just from exposure to smoke and heat.
‘Kels.’ His voice was soft, understanding. Like a hug down the phone line. Warm and strong and comforting. And how she wished he was right in front of her, holding her close. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had four hours of hard work, carrying nearly thirty pounds of kit on your back. You must be shattered. And it was a nightmare job. It’s the first time you’ve been to a fire at a school, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’
He pressed on. ‘The first time you’ve not been able to save a child.’
She dragged in a breath. ‘Yeah,’ she whispered. She’d been to a couple of big blazes where they’d lost people, but she’d never been to a fire where they’d lost a child. Two children. One of whom she actually knew, from her fire prevention work at the school. She’d never have believed it would hurt so much. Or that it would affect her like this. She was a trained professional. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way.
‘It’s your first one, of course you’ll be feeling emotional. Anyone would, in your shoes. I remember the first time I couldn’t save a kid in a car crash and it hit me pretty hard. Look, I’m at home. I’ll come and pick you up.’
‘No. I’m fine,’ she mumbled. ‘Be home soon.’ Though when she ended the call, she let the phone drop on the table, propped her elbows on the wood and rested her forehead on her clenched fists. She should have been able to save those kids. She’d failed in her job. She’d been saved from a mangled car in her hour of need—but she’d failed to do the same for Mikey and Lucy. She hadn’t paid her debt. She’d failed them, just like she’d failed Danny.