‘Well I’m not letting you.’ He still had a hold of her arm. But then another coughing fit overtook him and his grip weakened. She took her opportunity, throwing open the car door, wrenching her arm free and stepping out into the plumes of smoke. She slammed the door shut behind her, not wanting to let any more of the smoke into the car and into Frank’s lungs. The heat draped over her like a heavy, thick blanket and for a second she couldn’t think which way to move to get around to the car boot. Her eyes were streaming and her nostrils and throat burned.

She was an idiot. She should have tied something around her face. The car, that’s how she’d find her way. By feeling the car. She tugged at the collar of her top to pull it up over her nose and mouth and then she reached back for the car. The metal was hot under her fingertips. She touched it lightly and followed it towards the back, then felt around for the car boot latch. Finding it, she tried to press the button but found that her fingers didn’t seem strong enough. Her entire body was weakening. She hadn’t noticed how much she’d started struggling for breath, how much her chest was heaving. She’d been too busy concentrating on finding her way around to the boot.

But now her vision was tunnelling and her legs were heavy. She tried again to release the boot latch. Her fingers fumbled. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the sting of the smoke and held one arm over her nose and mouth as she tried again. Finally, she felt the button yield and the boot started to open. She stumbled backwards as it lifted and then when it was high enough, she collapsed in on top of the bags, her hands searching, feeling canvas and leather. Zippers and clasps. There was no way she was ever going to find her way into the right bag, search through the contents, get hold of the Ventolin that might not even be in there.

That’s when she heard two things at once.

From the front seat of the car, Frank’s voice. ‘Jill, love, are you all right? Tell me you’re alive.’

She managed to choke out a response. ‘I’m . . . here . . .’

And then the second thing. The whine of a siren. A fire truck was coming. They would be saved.

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Saturday 12 December

Jill

Dear Frank,