Bright Spark Read Online Free PDF Page B

the matter with me. Now, I’ve made up my mind to stay and I’ve
got some clearing up to do.”
    She
shrugged off the blanket, folded it precisely and handed it to the paramedic
who raised his eyebrows at Slowey, clicked his pen and walked away. Even
without the blanket, she remained stooped, shoulders gently rounded under some
weight only she could feel.
    “Let’s
start again. I’m Ken Slowey and I’m investigating this fire.” He offered his
hand, which she took and shook briskly before clasping her hands together
firmly at her waist, denying them the chance to flutter away.
    “I
made the phone call. I assumed you wanted a statement from me. I can’t tell you
much but I know these things are important. I could hear them thumping around
through the walls you know, so I dialled 999 and here you all are.” She spoke
in breathless bursts, meeting his eyes fleetingly and sniffing away tears.
    “And
I’ve been told not to go back into my house until it’s been declared safe,” she
continued as Slowey opened his mouth to think.
    “Is
there a neighbour you’re on good terms with?”
    Her
jaws worked beneath skin that was slack and lifeless in the harsh light. She
produced a crumpled handkerchief from the sleeve of a black and gold cardigan,
thrown on in a hasty ensemble with turquoise tracksuit bottoms and pink slippers.
    “No,
I don’t think so,” she said.
    She
remained adamant she didn’t need to be taken anywhere, nor should anyone be
summoned to look after her. She didn’t want food, tea, sleep or shelter. She
certainly didn’t want to hear the sincere murmur of sympathy that professionals
of Slowey’s ilk reserved for those they found wretched and pitiable. She
conceded that she could summon her daughter if need be, but wasn’t to be
dispensed with until she had said her part. At a time convenient to her, she
might accept a lift to the hospital to make sure the staff were caring for
Jeremy and Anthony by her standards rather than theirs. Didn’t he have a car
they could talk in? She’d like to see where her rising council tax payments
were going.
    “Where
should I begin?” she mused, once Slowey had scooped the fallen sun visor, fast
food wrappers, dried chewing gum and crumpled statement paper from the
passenger seat of the Fiesta.
    “Well,
I can guide you up to a point, but it’s better if the account comes from you
with a minimum of prompting. Certainly makes the lawyers happier.” Slowey did
his best not to patronise, imagining he was telling off one of his kids for a
lapse in table manners while convincing them they really were old enough to
know better.
    “I’m
sorry, officer. Very rude of me to think aloud.” She raised her left hand to
her forehead, flicked away a strand of hair, and gripped the seatbelt where it
hung at her shoulder, still watching the two houses. “I mean, I meant it
rhetorically.”
    “Yes.
Yes, I knew that.” Slowey beamed a deliberate smile at her and smoothed down an
empty page of his notebook.
    “Well,
I know it was 1235, because I looked at the bedside clock. I don’t know how
accurate that old thing is. It’s got glowing red numbers and it’s a Philips,
don’t know the model number. Do you need to know that?”
    Slowey
shook the image of an antique teas-maid from his head, forced his face blank,
his mouth into a straight line, taking in Marjorie’s demeanour: the flitting of
her eyes, the flaring of her nostrils, the twitching of her mouth, the
fluttering of pulse and windpipe in her neck, the way her left hand seemed to
unconsciously pull on the seatbelt strap, drawing a dull metallic click from
the inertia reel.
    “I’d
been reading so I wasn’t properly asleep and it was, I mean, it is ever so hot.
Even with Anthony in the other room. And I don’t sleep properly anyway because
he needs me at odd hours, with his condition. And even Jeremy is restless in
this weather and he does get excited. I’m last to drop off and first up.”
    She
laughed, a