The Scent of Fear by Margaret Yorke

Author:Margaret Yorke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Jessie had screwed herself up to tell Bob what must have happened. He came over on Sunday morning after spending hours with the police and fire brigade. Neighbours had helped move a lot of the furniture to the garage, but everything was soaked by the firemen’s hoses. Jessie had put the piece of pork she had bought for herself and Kevin in the oven, and had prepared vegetables, for Bob must eat even though she wouldn’t be able to swallow a morsel. She poured him some sherry from the bottle she kept for him, and with her face turned away from him, asked if the police knew who had set the fire.

“No.” Bob sipped his sherry. He’d really have liked a beer but Jessie had this idea that sherry was suitable. She’d soon learn his ways.

She turned to face him.

“It was Kevin,” she said.

“Oh Jessie, now think what you’re saying! That’s a very serious accusation to make,” said Bob.

“He’d a reason,” Jessie insisted.

“He may not like me, and he may not want to leave this nice home you’ve had together, but that’s a far cry from setting fire to my house,” said Bob.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t suspect him,” Jessie said. “No one else could possibly have anything against you.”

“Well, the thought did cross my mind, I admit,” said Bob. “But I dismissed it.”

“Did you mention it to the police?”

“No!” He was outraged.

“Kevin’s done it before,” said Jessie. “He started the fire that killed his mother.”

“Oh no!” Bob stared at her. “You can’t know that,” he said.

“I’m sure,” said Jessie. “But it could never be proved. There was no trouble about it at the time.”

“He was only a child.”

“He was eleven—nearly twelve. His mother had a—a friend, Leonard Davis, living with her. Kevin was jealous so he started the fire and his mother died. I don’t suppose he meant to hurt anyone,” said Jessie baldly.

“But that’s dreadful!” said Bob.

“The police thought it was an accident—the paraffin stove, you see, which Kevin had lighted in the night. Then he’d gone back to bed. But Len knew. And Kevin, of course. And I did, though I didn’t let myself think about it. We never talked about it.” She thought of her burnt underclothes. “He has lit other small fires now and then, when he’s been upset, but only little ones,” said Jessie. “There was never any real damage.”

If she was right, thought Bob, the boy must be out of his mind.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Tell the police,” said Jessie. “He can’t be allowed to go on. Someone else may get hurt.” She remembered the scarf in his drawer, and its burn marks; how had that happened? “There’s a meal ready,” she said. “There’s no point in wasting it. Let’s eat first and then perhaps you’d take me to the police station, Bob.”

In some undefined way, Jessie thought that a delay, however small, might help Kevin.

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