there anything I can get you?’ Mrs Halley said. ‘You want some tea or something?’
‘Yes, a cup of tea would be welcome. I should have thought you’d have the kettle on already.’
‘It won’t take but a few minutes. It’s already filled.’
Standing at the range she moved the kettle on to the heat. As she did so he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Then from the dresser drawer he took a notepad and a pencil.
‘Are you going to start work?’ Mrs Halley said. ‘Aren’t you tired?’
‘As I walked I worked on my sermon,’ he said shortly. ‘I want to get it down while I think of it. While it’s still fresh in my mind. At least something might be salvaged from this evening.’ Then, frowning, he added, ‘I can’t see by this dratted useless lamp. Where’s the other one?’ Getting up from his chair he moved to the dresser and took the repaired lamp and brought it to the table. Then, removing the shade and the funnel he struck a match and lit the wick. After adjusting the wick and the flame he replaced the funnel and took up the shade.
It was as he moved the shade around in his hand to set it back on the base that he saw the crack. He held it up before him.
‘What is the meaning of this?’
Shocked by the fury in his face, Mrs Halley stood motionless and speechless by the range.
‘I asked you,’ he said, ‘what is the meaning of this?’ He turned the shade to get a clearer view, and then took up the base with the funnel and held it closer to the shade, letting the light fall clean upon the break.
‘Who did this?’ he said, and when there was no answer,said again, ‘Who did this?’ This time he almost screamed the words. ‘Tell me! Answer me!’ He slammed the shade down on to the table top, so hard that the glass shattered, sending splinters flying across the room. Mrs Halley flinched but did not move. ‘Answer me,’ he said grimly. ‘Who did it? It wouldn’t be Lydia, for she’d have owned up – she wouldn’t have crept off to bed, afraid to face me.’ He paused. ‘Was it Amaryllis?’
No answer came, and after glaring at his wife for the briefest moment he turned and, still holding the lamp base, strode towards the door to the hall and the stairs.
‘No, Father,’ Mrs Halley said, and then as he turned to face her, added: ‘I did it. I broke the shade.’
‘You,’ he said. ‘You.’ His teeth clenched, his breath coming in loud gasps, he burst out, ‘Can’t we keep anything intact in this God-forsaken house! Does everything that comes in have to be ruined?’ Then, drawing back his hand to its limit he threw the lamp.
Hurled with all his force, it struck the corner of the table, the china and glass of the base and the funnel immediately breaking, sending up a showering spray of flaming paraffin.
Chapter Four
Lydia and Ryllis sat up as their mother’s screams rang out into the night, then leapt from their bed and, still in their nightdresses, ran down the stairs and into the room.
The scene that met their eyes was like something out of a nightmare, something not even to be imagined in the darkest moments. The room was full of smoke, and their mother, shrieking, her clothes and hair all ablaze, was running from one end of the room to the other. As she ran she scattered furniture and anything that was in her way, as if somehow she could escape from the fire that was enveloping her. Their father, trying to put out the flames, was flapping at them with his hands, but at the same time not getting near enough to be effective. Seeing the girls enter the room he cried to Lydia, ‘Get a blanket! Get a blanket!’ and Lydia turned and dashed back up the stairs. In her bedroom she snatched blankets from the bed, rushed back downstairs and, without hesitating, dashed at her mother with the blanket outstretched in both hands and wrapped it around her. Then, as the flames were smothered, Mrs Halley fell back onto the window seat. When at last, certain
‘Yes, a cup of tea would be welcome. I should have thought you’d have the kettle on already.’
‘It won’t take but a few minutes. It’s already filled.’
Standing at the range she moved the kettle on to the heat. As she did so he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Then from the dresser drawer he took a notepad and a pencil.
‘Are you going to start work?’ Mrs Halley said. ‘Aren’t you tired?’
‘As I walked I worked on my sermon,’ he said shortly. ‘I want to get it down while I think of it. While it’s still fresh in my mind. At least something might be salvaged from this evening.’ Then, frowning, he added, ‘I can’t see by this dratted useless lamp. Where’s the other one?’ Getting up from his chair he moved to the dresser and took the repaired lamp and brought it to the table. Then, removing the shade and the funnel he struck a match and lit the wick. After adjusting the wick and the flame he replaced the funnel and took up the shade.
It was as he moved the shade around in his hand to set it back on the base that he saw the crack. He held it up before him.
‘What is the meaning of this?’
Shocked by the fury in his face, Mrs Halley stood motionless and speechless by the range.
‘I asked you,’ he said, ‘what is the meaning of this?’ He turned the shade to get a clearer view, and then took up the base with the funnel and held it closer to the shade, letting the light fall clean upon the break.
‘Who did this?’ he said, and when there was no answer,said again, ‘Who did this?’ This time he almost screamed the words. ‘Tell me! Answer me!’ He slammed the shade down on to the table top, so hard that the glass shattered, sending splinters flying across the room. Mrs Halley flinched but did not move. ‘Answer me,’ he said grimly. ‘Who did it? It wouldn’t be Lydia, for she’d have owned up – she wouldn’t have crept off to bed, afraid to face me.’ He paused. ‘Was it Amaryllis?’
No answer came, and after glaring at his wife for the briefest moment he turned and, still holding the lamp base, strode towards the door to the hall and the stairs.
‘No, Father,’ Mrs Halley said, and then as he turned to face her, added: ‘I did it. I broke the shade.’
‘You,’ he said. ‘You.’ His teeth clenched, his breath coming in loud gasps, he burst out, ‘Can’t we keep anything intact in this God-forsaken house! Does everything that comes in have to be ruined?’ Then, drawing back his hand to its limit he threw the lamp.
Hurled with all his force, it struck the corner of the table, the china and glass of the base and the funnel immediately breaking, sending up a showering spray of flaming paraffin.
Chapter Four
Lydia and Ryllis sat up as their mother’s screams rang out into the night, then leapt from their bed and, still in their nightdresses, ran down the stairs and into the room.
The scene that met their eyes was like something out of a nightmare, something not even to be imagined in the darkest moments. The room was full of smoke, and their mother, shrieking, her clothes and hair all ablaze, was running from one end of the room to the other. As she ran she scattered furniture and anything that was in her way, as if somehow she could escape from the fire that was enveloping her. Their father, trying to put out the flames, was flapping at them with his hands, but at the same time not getting near enough to be effective. Seeing the girls enter the room he cried to Lydia, ‘Get a blanket! Get a blanket!’ and Lydia turned and dashed back up the stairs. In her bedroom she snatched blankets from the bed, rushed back downstairs and, without hesitating, dashed at her mother with the blanket outstretched in both hands and wrapped it around her. Then, as the flames were smothered, Mrs Halley fell back onto the window seat. When at last, certain
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