A quarter of a mile away, in a small housing estate, the first of the 999 calls was made. Neighbors watched as dark brown smoke billowed into the clear blue sky. When the house had been occupied, the smoke from the chimney had always been the expected wispy light gray, but this was different. It looked heavy and rancid, and just kept coming.

Speculation was rife as to how the fire had started. Was it a tramp trying to keep warm? Was it kids taking their games too far?

Fourteen 999 calls were made in total, sending two fire engines racing toward Rose Cottage from Aylesbury Fire Station. By the time they arrived, the interior of the cottage had almost gone and the hay barn was a pile of rubble and ashes. However, the stables, which were furthest away from the cottage, were still fully ablaze.

When the fire brigade arrived, they split into two teams—one to tackle the fire inside, and a second to the stables to prevent the flames from jumping to the woodland beyond. It was easier to gain control of the stables because, once the wooden frames had gone, there was nothing left to fuel the fire. The interior of the cottage, however, kept re-igniting as the fire found new fuel on the upper floors and from the wooden roof beams. It didn’t take much to give the flames a new lease of life.

By nightfall, the grounds resembled a muddy swamp and the rose beds had been completely destroyed by hours of heavy fire boots. What was left of the furniture had been thrown into the front garden, to avoid further re-ignition inside the property, so the once beautiful rose garden looked like a garbage dump.

“Stop!” the sub-officer shouted as he emerged through the hole that used to be the front door. “Nobody goes back inside!”

He reached for his phone and dialed Sally Bown. It was late and the phone rang for quite some time before it was finally answered.

“Sal, this one’s for you. We’ve got a body.”

Fire Investigation Officer Sally Bown arrived at the scene at eleven o’clock. From the neck down, she was kitted out in her well-worn fire officer’s uniform, but from the neck up, she was immaculate. Her long brown hair was in a loose, low braided bun, held in place by an antique hairpin of white beads and silver leaves, and her light make-up enhanced her natural beauty. The whole crew fancied her on an average day, so her arrival was definitely making their arduous night better. She didn’t mind. They respected her position, so them watching her arse every now and then didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“It’s way better than men not watching my arse,” was her response to any woman who objected to the glib sexism that came from the male firefighters. And Sally looked at them, too, so she thought it only fair.

At Sally’s side was a child of a SOCO with puffy eyes and bed hair. He carried a case almost as big as himself, and he stuck to her like glue. He wasn’t quite used to shift work yet, but if he’d been called by Sally Bown, then he was good at his job. He’d learn the rest.