Meet Me at Wisteria Cottage. Teresa Morgan F.
the time being.’ Didn’t most people usually access their home through the front door?
Maddy bit down her sarcasm – the firemen were only trying to help her – and nodded in agreement. It all made sense, yet it didn’t. How had a hob she hadn’t left on caught fire? Someone had to have done it. These things didn’t turn on by themselves. Her recipe books didn’t just move. But who would do that? And why?
‘But we’d rather you didn’t access the house at all until we’ve finished our investigations,’ Rachel said. She looked at Maddy with sympathy. Maybe she believed her? After a moment of silence, Rachel continued, ‘Would you like to go upstairs and get some things?’
‘Yes, yes, that would be great.’ Maddy nodded, her heart heavy, remembering the reason why she was in her house and walked up her blackened staircase, refraining from touching the bannister as she climbed. Rachel followed.
‘Everything is clear upstairs,’ Rachel said, as if trying to reassure Maddy. It wasn’t working. Downstairs looked like a bomb had hit the kitchen. ‘It smells a bit smoky up here, where there’s a little smoke damage, but nothing that can’t be fixed with a lick of paint. Up the stairs is the worst of it. Luckily all the bedroom doors were shut, so they haven’t got any smoke damage.’
‘I always shut them to stop the cat going in there,’ Maddy said, reaching her bedroom door.
Rachel stood outside while Maddy grabbed her everyday essentials from her bedroom, putting them into a woven cloth bag, including her phone charger – a crucial piece of equipment, as how else could she make all her calls if her phone was dead?
She rummaged for some fresh clothes but everything reeked of smoke despite the bedroom door being shut. They would have to do for today. Fortunately, having a small kitchen, her washing machine was in the garage, so she’d be able to access it. She thought of the mammoth amount of washing she would have to do. The bed would need changing, the duvet and pillows would have to go to the laundrette and then there were the towels in the bathroom. For now, she needed a change of clean underwear, whether they stank of smoke or not. With everything going on downstairs and knowing Rachel was standing outside, Maddy opted for changing at Harry’s, so stuffed a couple of pairs of clean knickers into her bag. Then, she bundled some clothes together to wash, throwing them into a plastic wash basket.
Laundry basket balanced on her hip, bag over her shoulder, Maddy closed her bedroom door behind her, as if it would keep the room from being contaminated further by smoke and soot, and went into the bathroom to grab her toothbrush and her other indispensable toiletries. Then, closing that door too, she walked past Rachel and entered her third bedroom – the box room like Harry’s. Only hers was a study. In her small filing cabinet under her old oak desk, she found her house insurance details.
She closed the bedroom door behind her as she exited. Rachel smiled. ‘Got everything?’
Maddy paused, thinking of everything she’d grabbed. Had she forgotten anything? Satisfied she hadn’t, she nodded, hugging the basket full of clothes, the heavy bag full of her essentials weighing on her shoulder as she followed Rachel back down the stairs.
Rachel escorted Maddy out of the front door and left her on her driveway. Maddy made her way through her decrepit back gate, dodging firemen and planks of wood, as they boarded her kitchen window and back door. The back gate had taken a beating more from the firemen to gain access to the kitchen, than actual fire damage, as it hung off its hinges lopsidedly. The gate would have been locked from the inside. It had had a fight with an axe. The axe had won.
Maddy would need a notepad and pen to list everything that needed repairing.
While juggling the laundry basket between hands and hip, she pulled the key out of her pocket and unlocked her garage door. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Please let her paintings be safe.
As she opened the door, she switched on the light, and relief flooded over her. A weight of worry lifted. There, nice and safe, were her paintings for the Trewyn commission. All wrapped and sealed, ready for delivery. Another painting stood on an easel, started, but by no means completed. This was another big commission she’d received, and she didn’t want to let the buyer down. She would move the paintings to the gallery as soon as she could, but for now, the summer warmth kept the damp out of the garage, so it made the perfect storage place. In the winter it would be a different story.
With the clothes bundled into the drum, she switched the washing machine to a quick wash setting. Dread filled her at the amount of washing she now faced. Hopefully, if it stayed sunny over the next couple of days, she would get most of her clothes dry. The rain usually arrived just as the school holidays started, so she had time yet.
Then she’d have to iron it all. I might consider paying someone to do that bit. Or just wear creased clothes.
Maddy locked up her garage and headed over to Harry’s house with her bag. The front door was open, which she was grateful for. She found Harry still talking to the police in his lounge as she entered.
‘Oh, sorry, is it okay if I use the bathroom? It’s a bit busy over at mine.’ Understatement of the year.
‘We were just finishing up, Miss Hart,’ said DC Adams, standing up. Harry and the other officer, DC Stone, also rose from their seats.
Awkwardly, Maddy smiled, fearing at any moment the police might arrest her – even though she was innocent – and headed up the stairs to the bathroom. Locking the door, she used the bathroom, changed her underwear, giving herself a spray with her bodyspray afterwards – almost emptying the can. There, no one will smell smoky knickers. Entering her house had left a whiff of smoke lingering around her. She checked her face in the mirror sensing her eyes were puffy. She splashed her face with water and slapped on some of her own tinted moisturiser, hoping this would give her some colour and reduce any redness in her cheeks.
When she came back downstairs, the house was empty. Outside, Harry stood on her drive shaking hands with the fire crew. He fitted in with them; big, muscular, burly men. He waved them off, then turned to face her, putting his hands in his pockets. He smiled as she crossed the road towards him. For someone so powerfully built and who could appear intimidating, he had a kind, gentle expression and his blue eyes emanated trustworthiness. She’d never noticed this before. Usually too busy being angry with him and seeing red.
‘The fire brigade have finished. They’ve boarded up the back door and the window until you can get them replaced,’ he said. ‘And CID have gone, but they’ve left their card with contact details for you to give to your insurers. I’ve left it on my mantelpiece. The crime scene investigators are still working, though, so you can’t enter your house yet.’
‘I need my back gate repaired too.’ She hated the thought of someone having access to the back of her house – especially with the back door damaged. They could attempt to get into the garage, if not the house.
‘I can do it.’ They walked around to the back where Harry examined the gate, assessing how it could be repaired. ‘I’ve got to go to Truro at some point anyway; I can pick up the materials I need there.’
‘Oh, no, you don’t have to,’ Maddy said.
‘It’s what neighbours are for. I mend a lot of fencing and stuff. I’ve probably got something knocking around in my garage that will do the job. Some of the wood is salvageable,’ Harry said. ‘And you’ll sleep easier if you know your house is safe.’
‘Thank you.’ Maddy’s chest heaved as she tried to hold in her tears. He was being so considerate. After the past few months of badmouthing Harry, and cursing him behind his back, did she deserve him being so good to her now?
She wanted to call her insurance company, which the police said she could do as they would be forwarding on their report. Was she insured for arson? Why would someone want to set fire to her house? And would her insurance company believe it wasn’t her? Insurance companies were good at finding some small print that meant they didn’t need to pay out money.
Everything