Nell, we agreed. Granddads waiting.
Helen stood in the doorway of her daughters flat, clutching a bag of homemade treats for the old man. Jars of jam clinked dullmetallic as she crossed the threshold.
Annie tore herself away from the laptop, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were raw from hours of notes, and the ache at her temples told of sheer exhaustion.
Mum, I cant. My exams are tomorrow. I need at least a day to lie down.
She wants to lie down, she does Helen snapped, irritation flashing. Granddads blood pressure is spiking; hes alone in that little Norfolk village, and you want to stay in bed? You selfish thing, Nell.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the hall. Simon appeared behind his wife, already in a travel coat.
Whats the fuss now? he surveyed the cluttered room, books and printed sheets strewn everywhere. Looks like your daughter refuses to visit her granddad. Shes tired, you see.
Simon frowned. He rarely meddled in Helens arguments with Annie, but something shifted in his usually placid face.
Nell, this is over the line. Your granddad isnt getting any younger. We havent seen him for a month.
Annie slumped back into her chair, irritation bubbling in her chest, though she fought to keep it in check.
Dad, I get it. But Im barely standing on my own two feet. Let me come next weekend, just for a day. Ill sit with him, talk properly.
Always about yourself! Helen rose, voice cracking. Next weekend, next month, next year! And Granddad is sitting there alone! Seventytwo years old, and his granddaughter cant tear herself from a computer!
Mum, enough.
No, enough! Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Your father and I work ourselves to the bone, and you cant even manage a single day with your own granddad!
Annie pressed her lips together. Inside, a stubborn resistance rosea vague, inexplicable reluctance to go, something she couldnt quite put into words. Fatigue, yes, but also a strange, undefined feeling that she needed to stay home today.
Im not going, she said firmly. Sorry.
Simon shook his head.
Fine, sit here and rest. Dont be surprised if Granddad stops calling you his beloved granddaughter.
Simon, dont start, Helen grabbed his sleeve. Lets go. Talking to her is pointless.
They left, slamming the front door shut. Annie sat frozen for a long moment, listening to the fading echo of their steps on the stairs, the rumble of a car starting in the courtyard. Then she exhaled, reached for her laptop.
Silence wrapped the flat like a soft cocoon. Nell flung the windows openMay air, warm and fresh, drifted in with the distant hum of the city. She brewed a cup of tea, settled at her desk, and finally let herself unwind.
The clock read just before three when Annie finally awoke. She stretched, joints popping, and was about to head to the kitchen for a biscuit when a strange scent slipped into her nose.
At first she ignored it. Neighbours might be barbecuing; smells drifted up from the street. But the odor grew thicker, sharper. Not a grill, not cookingsomething was burning.
She rose and moved toward the balcony. With each step the smell grew more bitter, acrid, tinged with a chemical, synthetic bite. She threw open the balcony door and froze.
The sofa was alight, black smoke curling through the room.
No, no, no!
Annie lunged at the couch. An unfinished cigarette, orangetinged at the tip, lay on the fabricblown in from the balcony, wind having carried it straight inside.
She bolted for the kitchen.
Her hands shook as she ripped a pot from the cupboard. The tap dribbled water agonisingly slow. Without waiting for it to fill, she grabbed the heavy pot and sprinted back.
The first pot doused the smouldering spot, but the foam inside kept smoking. She raced again for a second pot, then a third. Water hammered the couch, flooded the floor, ran down the baseboards.
Only after the fourth pot did the smoke begin to thin. Annie stood amid the wreckage, breathing hard, sleeves drenched to the elbows. The sofa was a mush of burnt cloth and soaked foam. The flat reeked of burned synthetics.
She sank onto the damp floor, knees drawn to her chest. Adrenaline ebbed, a shiver ran through her. A delayed terror pierced her when she realised what might have happenedif shed been away with her parents, if the flat had been empty, if her nose hadnt caught the smell in time.
The house could have burned down. All their things, documents, memories.
Annie snatched her phone and dialed her mother.
Mum her voice cracked on the first word.
Nell? Whats wrong?
Mum, there was a fire. It started. I put it out, but the sofa its gone.
Silence hung for a beat. Then Helens voice came, shaky.
Are you alright? Nell, are you alright?
Im fine, Im fine. The cigarette came in from the balcony, I didnt see it at first, but I managed to douse everything with water. I didnt call the fire brigade; I handled it myself.
Were on our way Simons voice cut in from somewhere offcamera, having snatched the phone from his wife. Stay inside, dont go anywhere. Were coming now.
The line went dead.
Annie remained on the floor, staring at what had just been their sofaa battered, beloved piece bought when she was twelve. Theyd watched movies on it, cuddled under a blanket, shed wept over her first heartbreak there, her father had dozed after work. Now it was a smoking heap.
An hour later, keys clanged in the lock. The door burst open and Helen stumbled in, hair dishevelled, eyes rimmed red.
Nell!
She rushed down the hall, barreling into the living room and freezing, eyes sweeping over the charred couch, the puddles, the black soot streaks on the walls. Then she lunged at her daughter, still perched on the arm of a chair.
God
Helen knelt beside Annie and embraced her, squeezing until both felt the crack of bones. The scent of perfume mixed with sweat and something elseraw fear.
Im sorry, Helen whispered into Nells hair. Im sorry for every harsh word this morning. Calling you selfish, irresponsible God, how foolish I was.
Annie hugged her back silently, words lodged deep, refusing to surface.
Simon entered behind them, moving slowly around the room, assessing the damage. He ran a hand over the blackened wall, sat beside the ruined sofa, prodded the melted foam with a fingertip.
You put it out well, he finally said. Smart. Lots of water at once.
I just reacted, Annie replied. It was automatic.
Exactly what you should do. The important thing is you didnt panic.
He rose, placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Good job, Nell. Seriously. You saved our home.
Helen pulled back, wiping tears with the back of her hand, mascara smearing across her cheeks. She didnt even notice.
Do you realize what would have happened if youd left? she asked, voice trembling. The flat would have stood empty, windows open. The fire would have devoured everything
Mum, I get it.
No, listen. Wed have come back to a pile of ash. The whole block could have gone up. The Petersons downstairs have two kidscan you imagine?
Simon wrapped his arms around Helens shoulders.
Len, enough. It didnt happen. No point beating ourselves up.
But Helen couldnt stop. Tears streamed down her face, unrestrained.
I shouted at you this morning. Called you selfish. And you you saved us all.
Mum, why are you Annie gently patted her mothers arm. I didnt know it would turn out like this. I was just exhausted and wanted to stay.
Thats the point! Helen seized Nells shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. You didnt know, but something inside you did. Call it intuition, a gut feelingwhatever. It kept you here and saved us.
Simon snorted, lacking his usual skepticism.
Mother, youre overthetop with the mysticism, but youre right in a way. You stubbornly held your ground, and thank heavens for that.
The rest of the day passed in a hollow stupor. Simon carted the charred sofa to the dump, Annie scrubbed the floor, Helen wiped soot from the walls. They worked in silence, punctuated by short, functional remarks.
By evening the flat looked almost normal again, save for a bright rectangle of empty floor where the sofa had stood.
They ate dinner at the kitchen table, pulling chairs close. Helen tossed spaghetti with sliced sausagesquick, mindless.
You know, Nell, she said, stirring her tea. Ill tell you one important thing.
Annie lifted her eyes from the plate.
Listen to your gut. Always. Even if it sounds foolish, even if everyone else says youre wrong. If something inside nudges you, dont argue with it.
Simon nodded, chewing the last bite of sausage.
Thats right. Ive lived on logic and calculations all my life. Sometimes something just clicks, and you know what to do.
Today that something saved our house, Helen added.
Annies gaze fell back to her plate, a shy smile appearing. She wasnt used to hearing such words from her mother. Usually their conversations crackled with tension, snapping like dry twine. Now
Now something had shifted. A fragile, new understanding, born from the close brush with disaster.
Next weekend well all go to Granddad, Annie said. Together. Well tell him not everything, his heart might not take it.
Right, Helen managed a weak grin. Well say the sofa wore out. Well buy a new one.
Ill bring a bucket of water up to the balcony, Simon chimed in.
They laughed, a nervous release of the days strain.
Outside, night fell. The city lights flickered on, and somewhere in the distance a siren wailedmaybe an ambulance, maybe a fire engine. Annie listened, a chill running down her spine.
Today shed learned something vitalnot just about intuition, but about herself, about acting when required, not freezing or panicking, but doing what was needed.
And about her parents. Behind their scolding and reproach lay pure fearfear of losing her, fear of something happening to her, expressed clumsily through accusations. A love that was rough around the edges but unmistakably fierce.
Helen cleared the dishes, then headed to the sink. Simon disappeared into another room, probably googling new sofas. Annie stayed at the table, warming her hands over the mug of tea.
An ordinary Sunday evening. Anything but ordinary.
Mum, she called softly.
Yes? Helen turned from the basin, staring at her daughter with a long, odd look before a tired, warm smile broke through.
Thank you. For coming home, for not shouting, for this.
Helen smiled, the fatigue in her eyes softening.
Thank you, Nell. For everything.
