It feels strange being home. Rosie feels guilty – with Eva by her side, because look, here’s their kitchen table, their sofa, their shoes all intact. All still here. Rosie runs upstairs to see the kids. They’re as Seb described, all asleep together, a pile of puppies in Rosie and Seb’s bed. Sound asleep. She kisses them, her heart swelling with gratitude for their sweet breath, for the life in them, before going back downstairs.
Eva is sitting in the kitchen, Eddy sheepish and uncomfortable opposite, a pot of tea in the middle. If it wasn’t for the police officers also sitting at the table and the grim line of Eva’s mouth in her ash-stained face, they could just be having a late-night chat.
Eddy stands as soon as he sees Rosie. His eyes are red; he’s been crying. He hugs Rosie tightly, wrapping his arms fully around her, and says, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Ro.’
His apologies confuse Rosie because what is he apologizing for? This fire that wasn’t his fault or all the stuff before that was?
She mutters, ‘Thank you for being here, Ed. Thanks for …’
He waves her gratitude away and once they’ve promised to let him know if there’s anything else that he can do, Eddy hugs them both one last time and leaves.
Now it’s just the five of them. The woman introduces herself again, her name – Sarah Wilcox – coming after a series of letters that Rosie immediately forgets, and her colleague, Nathan, who is quiet with dark circles under his eyes.
Once introductions are over, Sarah Wilcox tells them it’s important they act quickly, because acting quickly improves the odds that they’ll actually find the person or people responsible.
Rosie and Seb nod and take it in turns to recount their version of what happened. The trick-or-treating, the forgotten crumble, the first blood-freezing shriek. Sarah Wilcox leaves the note-taking to Nathan and keeps her eyes fixed steadily on Rosie and Seb.
When they run out of things to say they look at each other, and Seb cups his palm over Rosie’s hand where it rests on the kitchen table. Sarah Wilcox’s eyes flash.
Her tone becomes a little cooler. ‘We’re aware you’ve been going through a … complicated time, Mr Kent, but we need to know: is there anyone who immediately comes to mind who might have reason to want to harm you or your mum?’
Seb looks briefly at Eva, who looks tiny now she’s away from the fire. She moves her head in an almost imperceptible nod to show Seb she’s OK. She can hear what he needs to say.
‘I’d been getting threats. Death threats. Emails saying some ugly things. And there were people – parents, mostly – who were angry. Really angry. Some of the kids at school, I know, had really lost faith in me, but I don’t think, I honestly don’t think it would have been any of them …’
Rosie stares, horrified, at Seb.
Death threats?
‘OK. OK,’ Sarah Wilcox says, like this is all as she expected. ‘We’ll go to your office to have a look into all of that tomorrow, but I think that’s all for now. Thanks for your help and, again, I really am so sorry.’
Her eyes flicker again towards Seb and Rosie holding hands before she looks up one last time, at Rosie. Sarah Wilcox’s sharp face is full of questions and suddenly she looks more woman than police officer. Like she can’t believe after everything Rosie is still here, because if her husband had done what Seb has, there’s no way she’d stick around. No way she’d be made a public fool. Rosie feels all of this but still she doesn’t move her hand.
‘OK, then. Well. Thanks for your time. Hope you manage to get some rest. We’ll be in touch tomorrow.’
Rosie shakes their hands and wonders, briefly, if this is just another work night for them. Another family drama. For Sarah, Rosie and her family aren’t so special, not really. Tomorrow trouble will come for someone else in flashing lights and impossible conversation, and so it goes on. How vulnerable they all are. What an extraordinary act of faith it is to keep going, keep living, when at some point, odds are, those blue emergency lights will wail and flash for you or, worse, for someone you love.
Once the police have gone, it’s Seb who starts crying first.
He presses his fingers to his temples.
‘I promised Dad,’ he says to the empty space on the floor in front of him. ‘I promised Dad I’d look after you, Mum …’
Rosie holds his hand tighter as his heart breaks. And even though she looks bone-weary, her body painful, Eva stands and says, her voice gentle but clear, ‘How many times have I told you,