…started off as happily boringly as any other evening. I’d been out to meet up with colleagues to celebrate a birthday and Stuart had stayed at home to shoot things (hey, he’s got enough kills now to earn a thermal scope, these things are important)
I can’t begin to describe how happy I am that I decided to keep slightly in control of the evening. Normally, I’d be home on the last train, which would mean I’d not have got home until after all the excitement, but tonight it just felt right to call it a day at a sensible time and wobble my way home. We caught up with the events of the day then went to bed reasonably early, ready for another long day at work.
Shortly after midnight, we heard an almighty rumbling crash, enough to wake us up. I couldn’t work out if it was one of those electrical London storms, or if something more serious was going on. For all our house is very solid, it’s not soundproofed too well and you can hear so much sound carrying through from the flat above and from the stairwell.
“What was that? It’s a storm, or it’s an explosion”
“Don’t be silly. It’s someone having a fight”
And to be honest, that’s what it sounded like. Someone was obviously having a domestic and heaving things down the stairs. No idea what the initial noise way, but there was a clattering afterwards that sounded like it was carrying on. Suitcases… furniture… bodies… Someone having a domestic would explain the shouting we could just about make out, anyway.
I lay there for a few moments, trying to ignore the ongoing clatter, then gave up and went for a wander round the flat, a quick trip to the loo, then back to bed.
“Selfish gits. Don’t they know it’s a school night”
And then another big crash. What on earth were they playing at? There’s a time and a place for this kind of stuff, and once I’ve gone to bed is not one of them. We debated what we could do. It hardly seemed worth ringing it through to the police, yet if someone was kicking off that hard, neither of us fancied going into the main building to tell people to shut it.
S froze for a moment, trying to work out what all the shouting was about. More clattering, and then he stopped dead.
“I think they’re saying fire”
He pauses and listens some more.
“Yeah, it definitely sounds like fire.”
We’re still drowsy, but we’re slowly starting to get up when the crashing and banging starts again, this time at our front door. For a moment or two I sleepily wondered if the row has moved round to the carpark and our door, but this time there’s no mistaking it.
“FIRE, get out NOW”
The hammering at the door is so strong I think it’s going to give way, so we’re both screaming “coming” while trying to get dressed in the first things to hand. It’s amazingly difficult: all the adrenaline coursing through my body is making my hands shake, and I’m forgetting what order things should b put on, what I need to wear to be warm and decent.
“FIRE GET OUT HURRY UP”
I grab my keys, phone and purse, then look up to see S grabbing a cat carrier. It’s in bits, so I start trying to put it together but my brain has seized up. The clips just won’t work and I have to stop a couple of times to try and stop my hands shaking.
The other cat carrier was already constructed, and S walks in with Bob tubbed and ready to go. We start to look for Jay, who has hidden with all the commotion, but the voice at the door isn’t for having it.
“GET OUT NOW, THIS FIRE IS MASSIVE”
We give up, and rush out of the house with Bob, shutting the door behind us. It’s taken maybe a minute.
