Page 50 of All Mine (The All Mine #1)

Isabella

Nonna already seemed to know almost as many people as Isabella did in Honeybridge. As they walked the high street and admired the pumpkin displays, Nonna waved her mittened hands and called out and promised people biscuits.

‘How many clubs have you joined, Nonna?’ Isabella asked, thinking she seemed to be out almost every night.

‘Five,’ Nonna said. ‘Tai chi, chess, book club, the Women’s Institute and DJ skills.

Wait there.’ Isabella paused on the pavement as Nonna disappeared into the baker’s.

She herself might not have joined any clubs– unless you could call The Bolthole and The Lit Lounge clubs– but she felt completely at home now in Honeybridge.

Her old life with Daniel felt a million miles away.

In fact, she realised, she hadn’t thought about him in weeks.

Probably not since she heard the news that he was engaged.

God help that woman. But it wasn’t just her life with Daniel that seemed a world away.

Her old nine-to-five job in a marketing agency felt like another life too.

She’d got used to being her own boss, setting her own schedule, being the master of her own career.

She loved creating the vision for the restaurant and the way in which Amber and the team were bringing it to life.

And now, having Nonna here was the icing on the cake. Or the rum in the biscuit.

Nonna reappeared, clutching a paper bag, which she opened to show Isabella the contents: white biscuits sprinkled with sugar.

‘Checking out the competition like you,’ Nonna whispered.

She plucked one mitten from her hand and selected a cookie with her fingers, holding it between their faces.

‘Overpriced, I think, for the size of them.’ She bit into it and chewed thoughtfully.

‘Good flavour, though, I’ll give him that.

’ She finished the biscuit and brushed the crumbs from her lips, waving at the baker happily through the window.

The siren made them both jump. The fire engine rounded the corner towards them, the noise deafening as it passed.

Isabella spotted Walker in the front passenger seat but didn’t wave.

It didn’t feel appropriate. Nonna crossed herself, whispering, as they watched it turn towards the park.

Isabella bit her lip, the thought of another arson attack making her anxious.

‘I think Sinead would make a good chef,’ Nonna said as she plunged her hand back into her glove and they started walking again. ‘My initial suspicions were right.’

‘We haven’t even opened yet,’ Isabella protested. ‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking of leaving already? And Mamma and Papà are still travelling, so there’s nothing to rush home to.’

‘Not at all,’ Nonna said. ‘I’m succession planning. It’s crucial to your business.’

Isabella grinned.

‘Have you talked to her about it?’ she asked.

‘Not yet, but I’ve sounded her out. She’s not fazed by batch cooking, she did it for her boys. And she follows recipes all the time, saying she doesn’t like to deviate from what’s proven to work well. So, I know our family recipe would remain true.’

‘We could always make that part of the contract,’ Isabella said.

‘Better if we don’t need to. That she sticks to it because she believes in it.’

Nonna was right. Isabella nodded.

Another siren sounded. A police car this time, lights flashing, whizzed past. A second later a second fire truck followed in its wake. Whatever was happening was serious.

A crowd gathered on the pavement, watching as an ambulance tore past and another police car. A shopkeeper came out and scanned the high street. Isabella recognised him from the community meeting.

‘Not another one,’ he said, and people muttered their assent.

‘What’s happening?’ Nonna asked, grasping the forearm of the person next to her. A young mum, with a child in a buggy.

‘By the looks of it,’ she said, pointing towards the park where a roof could be seen with black smoke pluming from it, ‘Heart of Honeybridge is on fire.’

Nonna crossed herself again. ‘Is that the retirement village?’ she whispered and Isabella nodded.

‘Brigitta from chess club lives there. She’s the stylish one I told you about.’

‘So does Fred Barrow,’ said Isabella, thinking of the last time she visited him.

He had invited her into his flat and made her a cup of coffee.

They had sat for an hour looking through the maps together, while he reminisced.

He was such a lovely man. ‘Let’s go. Maybe there’s something we can do to help. ’

Nonna didn’t need persuading. Handing the bag of biscuits to the child in the buggy, she linked arms with Isabella and urged her on.

A crowd had already gathered at the park, held back by a hastily erected police cordon.

Some people were talking on phones, others huddled with friends and family, watching.

Sure enough, Heart of Honeybridge was burning.

Isabella and Nonna picked their way through, until they were at the police ribbon where they could feel the heat of the blaze even through the October chill.

The fire service already had three trucks and crew in operation.

Three huge arcs of water streamed from the engines as hoses were aimed at the source of the fire.

Isabella gasped when she saw the accommodation that seemed worst affected was Fred Barrow’s unit.

His apartment at the end of the row was ablaze, flames licking through the roof.

And the fire was spreading quickly, moving in all directions into the other retirement homes.

The smoke billowing across the park was bitter and stung the back of her throat.

She held her sleeve over her mouth, frantically looking for Fred as the fire crew helped people out into a waiting area, where the ambulance service was on standby. Nonna coughed, peering into the crowd.

Etienne appeared beside her, out of breath.

‘I just heard,’ he said. ‘Have you seen Fred yet?’

She shook her head wordlessly and he shaded his eyes with his hands, squinting towards the blaze.

‘His flat looks bad,’ he said.

‘I’m sure they would have got him out,’ Isabella said as confidently as she could, but she gasped as the roof suddenly gave in, flames roaring through. The crowd cowered in the fierceness of the heat that blasted out.

‘Move back, please.’ The police force pushed the cordon to clear more space. Etienne resisted, straining to see from his higher vantage point. Isabella tugged at his elbow and he gave in and fell back.

The fire crew were bringing out some of the residents in their wheelchairs, and some of the older, bedbound residents were still wearing their nightclothes.

‘Can you imagine how scared they must have been?’ Nonna said.

‘Lying there waiting to be rescued.’ And then she clapped her hands together in relief.

‘That’s Brigitta there,’ she said, ‘safe and well.’ She pointed to a lady with what appeared to be a Burberry scarf tied around her face to protect her breathing.

‘I’ll go and see her,’ she said, disappearing into the wall of people.

A loud crack made Isabella duck against Etienne’s shoulder and cover her ears.

‘Why isn’t he out already?’ Etienne said. ‘If it started with his house?’

‘You don’t think he’s still in there, do you?

’ Isabella asked, running through the interior of his house in her head.

It was compact, a one-bedroomed unit with a front door out to the park and a back door to the communal gardens at the rear of the complex.

‘Maybe he went out the back rather than the front? When it started?’ she said.

At that moment, she saw Walker. Even though he was kitted up with breathing apparatus, she’d still recognise the sandy hair and width of his shoulders. He seemed to have the same idea, as he and a crewmate were forging a path between the two buildings to get to the gardens behind.

‘Move back.’ The policeman pushed the crowd away again. People were constantly arriving, worried family and friends. This was the biggest fire the community had ever seen.

‘You don’t think this is arson, do you?’ Isabella said. ‘Nobody would do anything so terrible, would they?’

Etienne’s jaw was set hard.

‘God, I hope not,’ he muttered.

Both wings of the building were now on fire.

The sound was incredible. The roar of flames, the cracking and creaking of the building.

Isabella found tears springing to her eyes and brushed them away.

The elderly people being helped out were now being given oxygen and medical assistance.

They looked terrified, somehow their fear making them childlike, even in their old age. And still no sign of Fred.

One of the ambulances set up a triage station on the grass.

The smoke was thicker now, rolling out of every open window in the building.

‘There!’ Etienne shouted, pointing between the buildings. Walker was supporting Fred through the smoke, followed by his crew member and another resident.

Etienne pushed forward through the crowd, but not before grabbing Isabella by the hand and dragging her with him, until they reached the ambulance bank.

‘Walker!’ Etienne called and waved with his free hand. ‘Is he okay?’

Walker was grim-faced as he nodded.

‘Can you look after him?’ he said. ‘I have to get back.’

Etienne lifted the rope cordon for Isabella and they slipped through, his hand strong and warm in hers.

‘There you are!’ she said to Fred, who blinked at her through sore, red eyes, clutching a book under his arm and some papers.

‘Gave us quite a scare there, Fred,’ Etienne said, letting go of Isabella and pulling the old man into a ferocious hug. Isabella felt the air against her hand where his skin had been.

‘I was in the back garden when it started, showing my maps to someone,’ Fred croaked when Etienne released him. ‘I couldn’t get through.’ His face was smoke stained, the creases and wrinkles showing white against the soot.