‘Well, he got it right. They needed everything.’
Mason shot out a hand to steady himself as Jenna flung the car over a rise, straight into a deep dip. Breathless, he took a moment before he spoke again.
‘He was annoyed with himself. He reckoned they’d probably wasted time searching their own property before they realised. When he saw the direction it was coming from, he thought initially it might be a barn fire. They jumped in the car and drove over and then they realised it was the house. They were there before the fire tenders arrived. Just. It had already taken a good hold on the place. Mr Crawford said he didn’t even consider going in, the windows were already blown on the first floor. Ground floor had black smoke pouring out of it. He said if anyone was in there, it was too late.’
Jenna tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘That poor family.’ Her chest tightened.
Mason grunted. ‘Poor kids.’
She blew out a breath, blocked the dark thoughts that could do more harm than good if they were allowed to embed themselves. The self-preservation of the emergency services involved skills to block, laugh and move on. She wasn’t yet ready for the last two, but she could block. For now.
The high beam from her headlights cut a swathe across the field as they took another rise before it dropped into a deep valley where a long rambling farmhouse made of Wenlock Limestone nestled. Outbuildings, like afterthoughts, scrambled outwards in all directions.
Ahead of them, the dull grey Volvo edged its way in between rickety old wooden gates and then shuddered to a halt, the whole car rattling as though it were about to shake apart, before it breathed a last breath and came to its final resting place.
Jenna pulled her vehicle over to park it alongside the dilapidated wall, leaving enough room for the ambulance to pull in as close to the farmhouse as possible.
Jenna stepped from the car at the same time as Mason. The loud screech of the Volvo door as it opened disturbed the still of the night, interjected by Mr Crawford’s groans of pain as he hoisted himself out of the car and leaned against the open door while he squinted at them.
‘We’d better get inside. I need to put the kettle on for Ethel. The owd girl will need a hot-water bottle.’ He looked up, sad regret etched across his face and Jenna followed his gaze up to the orange glow beyond the horizon. ‘It’s a sad night, whichever way you see it.’
Her chest tightened. Sad indeed. For the loss of a house, a home and very likely a family. The tragedy of it knotted her stomach.
With a shake of his head, Mr Crawford pushed away from the car door and slammed it shut as he made his way up the broken pathway to the front door of his farmhouse. Without pause, he turned the doorknob and walked straight through the unlocked door.
Mason rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and sent her a crooked smile. ‘He thinks the world of her.’
‘Evidently.’ Her opinion of Mr Crawford had taken an upward turn. ‘I don’t think we need anything further here tonight. Do you?’ At the shake of Mason’s head, Jenna stepped inside the old house. ‘We’ll just make sure the ambulance turns up and then go back.’
She turned right from the hallway into the kitchen, where old-fashioned lights cast a warm buttery glow. She took a quick look around the place to assess. Hoarders they may be, with piles of magazines and books, but the kitchen was clean. Not so much as a plate on the side. The old brass taps shone as though they’d been buffed to perfection.
Mr Crawford had his back to her and the sound of water spraying into the kettle filled the room for a long moment. He picked up a dishcloth and, in a completely natural move he’d practised for years, he swiped the drips from the countertop and ran the cloth along the taps before he wrung it out with gnarled old hands and placed it back where he found it.
Capable, he probably ironed his own shirts. Typical of the old boys from the original villages formed long before the advent of Telford fifty years previously. Well established but still considered a new town.
Mr Crawford circled around with a stiff-legged motion, a twinge of pain slashing across his wizened features. ‘Can I make you a cuppa?’
Tempted, Jenna ran her tongue across her teeth while she considered the invitation. ‘No thank you, Mr Crawford, DC Ellis and I are just about to get off. Thank you so much for your assistance. If you think of anything further, please contact either one of us.’ She reached out and placed a card with her contact information on the huge oak dining table, scrubbed to a pale whiteness.
He glanced at the card but left it where it was and reached instead into a cupboard for fine bone china teacups and a matching teapot. As he selected a canister of tea leaves, his face wrinkled up into a grin. ‘The owd missus likes her tea made the proper way. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her with anything less if hers had a shock. Her wouldn’t like to think of those kids harmed in any way.’ He narrowed his eyes as his gaze landed on hers. ‘He war’nt a nice man, but her wouldn’t wish bad on ’im.’ He turned to stare out of the window at the approach of the ambulance, watched it swing around and reverse up to the gate, blue lights flashing in circles. ‘It’s a tragic thing, but her’ll be fine. Once we know what happened.’ He took a hold of the full kettle and, with a shaky hand, poured the boiling water onto the tea leaves in the teapot to scald them. ‘You’ll let us know, won’t you? When you find out.’
‘We will, Mr Crawford. We may need to come and see you and Mrs Crawford again. If that’s okay?’
‘Yes, it’s a nasty business. Whatever happened. Nasty.’ He squinted up at her. ‘Ethel heard him shooting his guns again, not long before the fire alarm went off. Did she mention?’
Jenna inclined her head, interested to hear his viewpoint. ‘She did.’
The furrows in his brow deepened. ‘I hope he didn’t do anything bad up there. I never did trust him.’
With a sense of disquiet, Jenna reached out and touched his elbow. Perhaps he was the type to take comfort from a young police officer. ‘We’ll look into it. I promise. All angles. Take care, Mr Crawford. We’ll be in contact.’
Heading back outside, she stepped into the cool night air and a sky on fire as the paramedics opened the rear doors to the ambulance.
‘Ethel,’ Jenna raised her hand to wave goodbye as Ethel sat up and swung her slippered feet onto the ambulance floor. ‘We’re going to get off, but we’ll see you again when we’ve all had a sleep.’
The lines of strain around Ethel’s mouth deepened. ‘Those poor babies.’
‘We don’t know anything yet, Ethel.’ Jenna conjured up a weak smile for the sake of the old woman. ‘Mr Crawford has a cup of tea made for you.’
Sandy looped her hand under Ethel’s arm as the old lady made her way to the steps and raised her chin in acknowledgement. ‘Ethel insists she can walk her way up the path to her own home.’
Ethel’s rusty laughter jiggled as she took one cautious step at a time. ‘Can’t have Mr Crawford thinking there’s something wrong with me. He’ll only worry.’
Warmth at the affection the couple showed for each other spread through Jenna’s chest and moved her concern along, so it became secondary. This time when she smiled, it came from the heart. ‘Bye, now.’