One Night To Wed

Except this wasn’t any kind of a game. It was real.

And deadly.

And Angus, if he was in any way involved tonight, would be even more effectively camouflaged. And Fliss could be quite certain that he wouldn’t be laughing.

‘We’ll go out the back way,’ Jack decided. ‘If we go to the top of the hill and then cut back through the Bennies’ orchard, go through the back of the cemetery and then over the Carsons’ fence, we’ll be just about at your place.’

‘But if we go that way, we won’t go past the Treffers’ place. I need to know whether it’s Callum or Cody under that bush, Jack. And whether they’re OK.’

Jack shook his head. ‘It’s too exposed. Too risky. If we go my way, we’ve got more chance of staying hidden.’

By tacit consent, they both edged towards the glass doors to see if staring into the dark street could help finalise their plan of action.

‘Look.’ For the second time that evening, Fliss pointed towards the river mouth.

On the other side of the bridge, flashing lights could be seen. The red, blue and white lights on the different emergency services vehicles looked like a strobe lighting effect for a large outdoor party.

‘The cavalry’s arriving.’ Jack sounded relieved. ‘And it’s been less than an hour since all this started. Not bad.’

‘But they’re not moving. They’re miles away.’

‘They’re not going to let anyone come in until they know it’s safe. And they won’t want anyone escaping, either. I’ll bet they’ve blocked the road on the north side as well.’

They may as well still be as far away as they had been in the larger towns they had rushed here from, Fliss thought in despair. Relief at knowing help was close was minimised by the frustration of knowing they were still alone on this side of the river.

More lights could now be seen flashing in the sky above the position that had clearly been chosen as a safe rendezvous point. A helicopter was hovering over what had to be Morriston’s Domain—a rather grand name for what was little more than a paddock ringed with some lovely old oak trees and used more as a venue for the local pony club to meet than anything else.

Reinforcements from Christchurch?

Would Angus be amongst them?

And if so, how long would he have to wait, cut off by the wide stretch of the Morris River, before he could come to help any of the residents?

To help her.

Fliss pushed the selfish thought aside and turned to look away from the tantalising sight of the gathering rescue forces.

The northern boundary of Morriston was hidden from view by the hill Jack’s house was on but Fliss looked in that direction anyway. Was the old man right? Had the first priority been to try and seal them off from the outside world to prevent anyone creating mayhem somewhere else? And what about the native bush on the eastern boundary? It would be easy for someone to hide in there for as long as they wanted and then return if they didn’t consider the job finished.

An explosion too loud to be gunfire sounded as though it came from just beyond Jack’s front doorstep. Fliss instinctively crouched, just as a shower of bright sparks appeared in the inky blackness outside.

Jack remained standing.

‘What’s happening?’ Fliss queried shakily.

‘There’s a fire.’ Jack sounded shocked. ‘A big one. I think it might be Darren’s house.’

Fliss inched back up to where she could see the first lick of tall flames dividing the sparks. Thick smoke roiled into the night, illuminated by the flames.

Would the volunteer fire brigade dare to respond? Fliss had seen them in action once in her time here, when Mrs McKay’s bonfire had spread to a stand of gum trees at the back of her section. A siren had summoned the volunteers and the ancient vehicle they used had been in place in a commendably short space of time. Rural communities had to look after themselves in that sort of crisis and deal with any type of fire as quickly as possible. Back-up would be a long way away if an uncontrolled fire began spreading from tree to tree and then house to house.

But no siren sounded now. If it was Darren’s house going up in smoke, it was being left to suffer its fate.

‘Whoever lit that fire can’t be far away.’

‘No.’

‘What’s going to happen next?’

As if to answer her frightened question, Fliss heard a faint scream from somewhere down the hill.

And then the sound of yet another gunshot.

And then silence.

She looked at Jack.

‘I’m going now,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t just sit here and let this happen.’

‘No.’ Jack moved, heading for the passage that led to his back door. He opened the back door, stared for a long moment into the dark section and then jerked his head sideways. ‘Right, then. Let’s go.’

Fliss followed close behind, crouching as she ran. They stopped when they reached the henhouse and huddled into the darkness between the corrugated-iron shed and an overhanging apple tree.

‘You go the way I told you, Fliss, and, for God’s sake, keep a careful lookout and your head down.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Fliss didn’t want to set off alone. Jack might be eighty-six and in no shape for physical exertion but doing this alone was a terrifying prospect.

‘I’m going past the Treffers’ place. I’ll check on Callum. Or Cody.’ Jack’s teeth gleamed oddly in the frame of his blackened beard as he grinned at Fliss. ‘Not that I’ve ever been able to tell those rascals apart. They never get close enough.’

There was an unmistakable undertone of sadness and Fliss knew why it was there. It had taken time, but she had learned that Jack was something of an outsider in this village despite having lived here for most of his adult life. She didn’t think he had been a loner by choice, however. While making notes in that very first interview, Fliss, had casually queried Jack’s marital status. Avoiding her gaze, Jack had been brusque.

‘I was always a bit shy when it came to the lassies. And it’s a bit late now.’

Perhaps his disfigurement, added to too many years of living alone, had combined to push him further away from the community as he had started to look more disreputable, and the only place he went to socially was the local pub. He didn’t have to be alone right now, however. Fliss leaned closer.

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No.’ The gleam vanished. ‘It’s a more dangerous way to go, Fliss, and you’re the important one here. As you said, there could well be people waiting at the surgery who need you.’ His hand gripped her shoulder for a second. ‘You’ll be OK. Just go quietly and carefully.’

‘You, too, Jack.’

‘I’ll meet you at your place.’

Fliss simply nodded in response and she couldn’t be sure that Jack had noticed. In another moment he was gone. Swallowed up in the night with any sounds of his shuffling movements covered by the soft scratching and clucking from the hens in the run attached to the shed.

Fliss felt very, very alone.

And very, very frightened.