I Know Your Secret - Ruth Heald Page 0,92

door swinging shut as she leaves the house. Her mother stays behind, watching me, the cigarette lighter in her hand.

I start to stand, lifting my hands from the sticky floor, my knee throbbing.

‘Don’t move. I’ll set light to your clothes,’ she says. ‘You won’t stand a chance.’

She’s not bluffing. I can see she’d do it in an instant.

I sink back to the ground, staying where I am, as she backs away from me slowly, watching me the whole time.

‘If I see you move, I’ll start the fire. The flames will speed towards you. I’ll enjoy watching you burn.’

I’m frozen to the spot. I know that as soon as she gets to the bottom of the stairs, she’ll set light to the petrol. She’s going to kill me anyway. I won’t be able to get past her before she starts the fire. My only chance is to go back into my therapy room. There’s no petrol in there. I can shut the door, hope that holds the fire off for long enough for me to escape out of the window.

Virginia is near the bottom of the stairs now. I have to move. As I start to crawl away, I see her lighting a piece of paper with the cigarette lighter and throwing it onto the oil-soaked carpet. Flames lick up the steps and I run back into the therapy room and shut the door behind me.

My heart thuds in my chest, my vision blurs. I try to focus on my breathing, to stay calm. But as I breathe in, all I can taste is petrol. When I put my hand on the doorknob, I can already feel the heat of the fire. I can hear the roar of the flames. I can’t escape. I’m trapped. Just like Nick was.

Sixty-Four

Danielle

I stumble outside, my mother behind me.

She turns to me and smiles. ‘Beth’s finally getting what she deserves.’

I shake my head. As much as I wanted to hurt Beth, I never wanted this.

I look up at the house. There’s no sign of the fire from the outside yet. Maybe it will be OK. Maybe Beth will get out.

I need to call the fire brigade. But I don’t have my phone. It’s in my handbag in the house.

‘Give me your mobile,’ I shout at my mother.

She shakes her head. ‘I have to go now. Before they come for me.’

‘Give me your mobile,’ I shout.

But instead she opens her arms and wraps me in a quick hug. ‘I love you, Sophie,’ she whispers in my ear.

I hold her for a moment longer than she wants, digging in her pockets to try and get to her phone. She squirms in my arms.

She doesn’t have her phone on her. Of course she doesn’t. She’s planned this. She doesn’t want to be tracked down by her phone’s GPS signal. She’ll run away now, disappear. I never want to see her again.

Behind me, there’s the sound of shattering glass, as the fire rips through the house and blows out one of the downstairs windows. I let go of my mother and turn back towards the house.

I need to do something, to get Beth out of there. But there’s no time. I start to panic, my breath coming in gulps, as I gasp for air. I sink down onto the concrete path and throw up bile. I think of the baby growing inside me, the stress it must be under.

I look around for my mother, but she’s already gone.

But now I can hear Beth screaming. I remember Dad’s screams, how they echoed round my head for years afterwards. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and still think I can hear them.

Beth’s shouting now, banging against the window upstairs.

The street is empty; the fire isn’t visible from outside the house and it hasn’t attracted attention. I look from the house to the street and back again. I can see Beth struggling with the window catch, trying to get it open. But it’s jammed shut. She’s trapped. There’s no time.

I can’t do what I did last time. I can’t run away. I have to save her.

But I can’t go back in the house. It’s too dangerous. I can’t put my baby at risk.

Beth is still banging against the window frantically. The flames haven’t reached the room yet, but they soon will. She’s pushing her body into the window, trying to force it open.

I’m moving before I’m even thinking straight. I see an empty terracotta flowerpot beside the bins.