Inner Fire by R. L. Stedman

Author:R. L. Stedman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RL Stedman

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There were bookshelves full of books in the dining room, but they looked old and boring, with weird titles: The Uncommon Ajax, The Reluctant Fundamentalist, Arthur’s Pride. Gran’s photographs, set out on the shelves like skittles in a bowling alley, looked more interesting.

I hovered in the dining room, staring at these old photos, barely seeing them. I didn’t want to go back into the lounge, didn’t want to face Gran, who thinks that I’m strong, but that she can manage.

‘Corinne? What are you doing out here?’ Gran stood in the doorway. ‘Is something wrong?’

Her head was silhouetted by the living-room lamp, so her face was in darkness and I couldn’t see her eyes. She paused, half in, half out of the door. I stared back at her, both of us unmoving, like two gladiators preparing for combat.

Gran looked down at her photograph collection, and shivered. ‘It’s cold. Let’s go into the lounge.’

I followed her, and stood in the middle of the room, far away from anything flammable. ‘Who’s Aiden?’ My voice didn’t feel my own. Like there was someone else inhabiting my body, asking questions.

Gran took a deep breath as though she was trying to figure out what to say. Slowly, she lowered herself into her chair. ‘Do you remember when you asked how old I was?’

‘You didn’t answer.’

‘No. Well. The truth is — I’m very old, Corinne. A great deal older than I look.’ The light falling on her face created shadows. ‘Aiden is … complicated.’

‘I heard the two of you. You were talking about me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ My voice was bitter and dry, not sounding like me at all. ‘It’s mine.’

She looked up quickly. ‘Is that what you think? That these fires are your fault?’

I didn’t say anything; no point in stating the obvious.

‘Oh my dear.’ She put out a hand to me. ‘Hasn’t your father explained? Surely, he’s told you.’

‘I know I have a genetic condition,’ I waved my wrist, the little snake-asterisk on the medic-alert bracelet glinting.

‘Well, then. You know that it’s just something you have. Like blue eyes.’

‘You don’t understand.’ My voice was harsh.

‘Of course I understand. I have it too, remember?’

‘It’s easy for you. You can control it.’

‘You think it’s easy? You think I …’ she shook her head. ‘You think I haven’t worked, worked hard, to manage this gift?’

‘There you go,’ I said. ‘Calling it a gift.’

‘Well. And so it is.’

‘What sort of a gift,’ I was nearly shouting now, ‘makes you burn down your own house? It’s not a gift. It’s a fucking curse.’ Well, and now I’d gone and said Fuck to my great-grandmother. And the strange thing was — I didn’t even care!

She didn’t seem to have noticed my four-letter lapse. Instead she stared up at me. ‘Come and have a seat, dear.’

I sighed, then sat. I would much rather be alone. Or with people my own age, hanging out at the cinema, or on the internet.

Gran sighed. ‘I forget what it’s like.’

‘What what’s like?’ Hands folded across my chest, I stared at her.

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