Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [116]
Again.
A lot of things happened after that. The fire brigade told me that they suspected the fire had been started deliberately, which was incredibly chilling to hear. Who would do something like that?
For a second, I entertained the idea that Peter might have been behind it. But that was ridiculous. He’d been in the flat with me. In fact, he had been more terrified than I had. But the idea wouldn’t go away. What if he’d lit the fire so he could play the hero with his big fire door?
Again, too implausible.
But – my mind was working feverishly now – what if he’d planned to impress us by smashing the window and lifting us all to safety? When I thought about it, the shock on his face when that bloody window hadn’t broken told its own story. Surely, though, not even he . . .
To this day, I don’t know, but I still suspect.
I discovered later that the flat window had been made of polycarbonate, not glass – totally illegal in a rented accommodation. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to pursue a legal claim, so I will always feel the landlord got away with that one.
I didn’t really mind though. The only thing I cared about saving, as ever, was Daniel and he’d come through it without a scratch. He hadn’t even woken up until he was out in the cold air.
The poor boy had already been through so much before his second birthday. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I really had to think about giving him some stability. I’d had my recovery period and my identity and confidence, hidden for so long, were back. I decided it was time to get a job. Daniel needs friends. Nursery will be good for him. Maybe he’d even win a photo on the beach with the mayor, like I’d done all those years ago.
I laughed at the memory. Then, serious face in place, began to devise a plan.
EIGHTEEN
Help Me, Mum
Home after the fire was another flat, but even as I signed the lease, I knew I wouldn’t be there long. I’d got a commission-based job in an estate agent’s in New Road and, if I played my cards right, the potential earnings were pretty good. Actually, for someone with no experience, they were amazing. But, I figured, I’d bought and sold used cars in a previous life and I’d haggled for the best tea and coffee prices at wholesalers. This was a job I could do, and do well.
The company paid me for every customer I found, every appointment I made, every viewing that came in and, obviously, for every sale. It was a boom time for property because the government was offering people fifteen grand to leave their council flats, so there was no shortage of customers coming through the door with their deposits in their hands. At £50 a time for each meeting, I was soon pulling in an average of £500– £600 a week – not bad for a twenty-one-year-old.
As soon as I had some money, there was only one place I wanted to spend it. I was determined Daniel should have everything I never had, so I enrolled him in a lovely private nursery in Purbrook. It cost £110 a week, but I liked its ethical attitudes and the fact that it had wonderful outdoor space. I knew he’d be happy there.
I was happy now as well because after such a long time getting over the ordeal of being with Peter, I had found a new partner. He was an engineer called Steve, about my age, and, for a while, I thought we had a future. Steve was exactly what I needed at the time – mainly because he couldn’t have been more different from Peter. Whereas my husband was like a wound coil, ready to unravel without warning, Steve was so laid-back he was almost horizontal. I couldn’t have wished for a more easy-going guy.
This wouldn’t have counted for anything, however, if he hadn’t also been great with Daniel. Only when I was sure my son was comfortable with Steve could we take the next step and move in together. At first I was nervous. After my previous experience, the idea of sharing a