Now she could hear them too. The flames.
‘He set it on fire,’ she said to herself, her stomach falling away from her as she watched the smoke pour in from the hallway across from where the kitchen must be. And she knew, knew it would only be minutes until the whole house went up.
‘I need to get you out of here,’ she said.
Stanley blinked silently up at her.
‘Come on.’ Pip let go of him, pushing up to her feet. She slipped in the blood at his side, staggering over his legs. She bent down and picked up his feet, pulling him, dragging him.
Holding his shoes up by her hips, she twisted round, front-facing so she could see where they were going, dragging Stanley behind her, her grip on his ankles, trying not to look at the trail of red following behind him.
Out in the corridor, and the room off to the right was filled with fire: an angry, roaring vortex up every wall and across the floor, spilling through the open doorway into the narrow hall. Flames were licking along on the old, peeling wallpaper. And above her head, the exposed insulation in the ceiling was burning, dropping ash down on them.
The smoke was getting lower and darker. Pip coughed, breathing it in. And the world started spinning around her.
‘It’s going to be OK, Stanley,’ she called over her shoulder, ducking her head down, out of the smoke. ‘I’ll get you out.’
It was harder dragging him, out here on the carpet. But she dug in her heels and she pulled as hard as she could. The fire was growing on the wall beside her – hot, too hot – and it felt like her skin was blistering and her eyes were burning. She turned her face away from it and pulled.
‘It’s OK, Stanley!’ She had to scream over the flames now.
Pip coughed with every breath. But she didn’t let go of him. She held on and she pulled. And when she reached the threshold, she sucked the clean, cold outside air into her lungs, dragging Stanley out on to the grass, just as the carpet behind them started to catch.
‘We’re out, Stanley,’ Pip said, dragging him further through the unkempt grass, away from the burning house. She bent and laid his feet gently down, turning her eyes back to the fire. Smoke was billowing out of the holes where the upstairs windows once were, blocking out the stars.
She coughed again and looked down at Stanley. The wet blood glistened in the light from the flames, and he wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed.
‘Stanley!’ She crashed down beside him, grabbing his face again. But this time his eyes didn’t open. ‘Stanley!’ Pip lowered her ear to his nose, listening for his breath. It wasn’t there. She placed her fingers on his neck, just above the gaping hole. Nothing. No pulse.
‘No Stanley, please no.’ Pip settled on her knees, placing the heel of her hand in the middle of his chest, right beside one of the holes. She covered her hand with the other, leaned up and started to push down. Hard.
‘Don’t, Stanley. Please don’t go,’ she said, keeping her arms straight, compressing his chest.
She counted to thirty and then pinched his nose, placed her mouth over his and breathed into him. Once. Twice.
Returned her hands to his chest and pressed down.
She felt something give way beneath her palm, a crunching sound. One of his ribs cracking.
‘Don’t go, Stanley.’ She watched his unmoving face as she pushed all of her body weight into him. ‘I can save you. I promise. I can save you.’
Breathe. Breathe.
There was a flash in the corner of her eye as the flames exploded, the downstairs windows shattering outward as whirls of fire and smoke climbed up and out, engulfing the outside of the farmhouse. It was incredibly hot, even twenty feet away, and there was a line of sweat running down Pip’s temple as she pushed. Or was that Stanley’s blood?
Another crack under her hand. Another rib gone.
Breathe. Breathe.
‘Come back, Stanley. Please. I’m begging you.’
Her arms were aching already, but she kept going. Push and breathe. She didn’t know how long for; time didn’t seem to exist any more. Just her and the crackling heat of the flames and Stanley.
The first thing she heard was the siren.
Thirty and breathe. Breathe.
And then the slamming of car doors, voices shouting that she couldn’t understand because words didn’t exist here. Only one to thirty and breathe.
Someone’s hand was on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. It was Soraya. Daniel da Silva stood over them, the fire mirrored back in his horrified eyes. And as he watched, there was a thunderous, end-of-the-world crash as the roof collapsed, caving into the flames.
‘Pip, let me take over,’ Soraya said gently. ‘You’re tired.’
‘No!’ Pip shouted, breathless, sweat falling into her open mouth. ‘I can keep going. I can do this. I can save him. He’s going to be OK.’
‘Paramedics and Fire will be here any minute,’ Soraya said, trying to catch her eye. ‘Pip, what happened?’
‘Charlie Green,’ she gasped between presses. ‘Charlie Green, from number twenty-two Martinsend Way. He shot Stanley. Call Hawkins.’
Daniel stepped back to speak into his radio.
‘Hawkins is already on his way,’ Soraya said. ‘Ravi told us where to find you. Jamie Reynolds is safe.’
‘I know.’
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Let me take over.’
‘No.’
The next siren wasn’t far behind, and then two paramedics were around her in their high-vis jackets and their purple-gloved hands.
One paramedic asked Soraya for Pip’s name. She bent low so Pip could see her face.
‘Pip, I’m Julia. You’re doing really well, sweetheart. But I’m going to take over compressions from here, OK?’
Pip didn’t want to, she couldn’t stop. But Soraya dragged her back and she didn’t have the strength to fight her and the purple-gloved hands replaced hers on Stanley’s sunken chest.
She collapsed back in the grass and watched his pale face, glowing orange from the fire.
Another siren. The fire engine pulled up to the side of the farmhouse and people peeled out of it. Was any of this real any more?
‘Is there anyone else inside?’ someone was shouting down at her.
‘No.’ But her own voice felt detached from her.
The paramedics swapped over.
Pip glanced behind her and a small crowd was there. When had that happened? People standing in coats and dressing gowns, watching the scene. Other uniformed constables had arrived, helping Daniel da Silva to push the onlookers back, cordon off the area.
And how long was it after that that she heard his voice? She didn’t know.
‘Pip!’ Ravi’s voice fought over the flames to reach her. ‘Pip!’
She pushed up to her feet and turned, saw the horror on Ravi’s face as he looked across at her. She followed his eyes down. Her white top was fully soaked through with Stanley’s blood. Her hands red. Smudges up her neck and across her face.
He sprinted towards her, but Daniel caught him, pushed him back.
‘Let me through! I need to see her!’ Ravi yelled in Daniel’s face, struggling against him.
‘You can’t, this is an active crime scene!’ Daniel shoved him back, into the growing crowd. Held his arms out to keep Ravi there.