Smoke hung chokingly thick in the air. She gasped at the taste of it, and the scorch of it flooded her lungs.“Oh God.” She rolled out of bed. Her feet hit the bare floorboards. The whole house was timber, old timber. In a fire, it would go up fast. She had to get out.She scooped up her mobile from the bedside table. Her handbag was on the dressing table by the door. She picked it up, dropped the mobile in, and slung it over her shoulder.She could hear the fire. It crackled in the kitchen. The orange flare of light was terrifying. “Front door.” She put an arm over her face and bent low, remembering that smoke was said to rise.The heat of the fire reached out for her as she fled past the kitchen. The wooden floor burned beneath her bare feet, hotter than the hottest summer concrete. She clung to the front door, sobbing as she fought the deadlock. It clicked, the door swung open and she flung herself out and down the two front steps.The cool lawn comforted her feet. Her hands shook.
