Удерживая маску. Николай Метельский
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eyes narrowed on her, and she nodded.
Maddy watched him leave, locking his front door and taking the key. He so didn’t trust her. She tested it too, and found she couldn’t get out. Bastard. She was using that word a lot today. And about him. Helpless, she stared out of the window watching the firefighters put out the fire. It looked like they had it contained now. As Harry had said, they were round the back of the house. They’d entered via the back door, into the kitchen. What would the damage be like? Would everything smell of smoke? What had caught fire?
She tried hard to think back to the morning. Had she left something on in the kitchen? Could a kettle catch fire? She’d heard of washing machines and tumble dryers being the cause of fires, but hers were in the garage. And had she moved her paintings to the garage? She felt certain she had, but couldn’t remember actually doing it. Her memory was coming up blank. She was supposed to be delivering the paintings this weekend. And tomorrow she’d wanted to start on a new commission – fat chance of that happening now.
Five minutes later, Harry returned with the keys to her car and her handbag.
‘Do you want to make a phone call to someone?’
She shook her head. She needed to calm down first. Valerie was her first thought. She’d need her to man the gallery tomorrow. Maddy couldn’t even contemplate the mess she would need to deal with tomorrow morning. Phoning her mother was not an option either. She didn’t need her racing here.
There wasn’t anyone else she knew to call. Since moving to Cornwall a year ago, she had only made few friends and she didn’t know them well enough to impose. Her time had been spent building her art business. Unsociable hours painting or manning the gallery. Her closest friend here was Valerie.
She checked her handbag for its contents – all present and correct, phew! How stupid to leave them in the car unlocked. Cornwall didn’t exactly have a high crime rate, however there was always the chance of an opportunist.
‘I’ve just realised I don’t even know your name.’ Harry stood facing Maddy, hands on his hips. Large hands too, totally in proportion with the rest of him. She’d never stood this close to him and appreciated his full size. If he wanted to be intimidating, he could be, but at the moment, she could see he was trying to help her. A small voice whispered inside her head. You’re safe.
‘It’s Maddison, but everyone calls me Maddy,’ she said, her breath hitching occasionally, like a small child who’d been crying too much.
‘Harry.’ He held out his hand, so formally, Maddy shook it.
‘Yes, I know, you told me this morning.’
‘Ah, yes, I did, didn’t I?’ A hint of a smile softened his expression. ‘Right, I think you need a drink. Will vodka do, or whiskey? I don’t have any wine. And I avoid gin like the plague.’ Maddy followed Harry into his small kitchen. His house layout was identical to hers. But his kitchen was old pine units, whereas she’d had white melamine. There would be three bedrooms above and a bathroom. ‘Or I may have some rum.’ he said, opening an overhead cupboard.
‘Vodka, please. Do you have anything to mix with it?’ However much she wanted to numb her brain, she’d need to be able to concentrate tomorrow morning.
‘I have orange juice,’ Harry said, pulling a carton from the fridge.
‘Perfect.’
‘And don’t worry; you can kip here for the night.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was softer now, almost a whisper. Her throat hurt and she didn’t have the energy to speak. A numbing shock was taking over her now. She didn’t care where she slept tonight. She doubted she’d actually sleep. Should she stay here though, or call Valerie? She didn’t know the man who stood before her, only this morning they’d been at loggerheads with each other. His truck, her cat.
‘Oh, God.’ Maddy’s drink sloshed in the glass as she moved suddenly. ‘Sookie.’
‘Who’s Sookie?’ Harry was sipping a darker liquid, whiskey she presumed. She hadn’t noticed him pour himself one.
‘My cat!’
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘What if she didn’t get out of the house? What if she tries to get back in? She must be hungry now.’ Anxiety crept up Maddy’s back, stiffening her shoulders, but she tried to keep her hysterics in check. Did she have any more tears left to cry? ‘I should go and find her.’ She placed her glass on the counter, and as she moved, Harry held out his hand to stop her, blocking her way.
‘Wait!’ He clearly didn’t want her leaving the house. ‘Do you have a cat flap?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, hopefully she got out.’
‘But it’s in the kitchen! Oh, god, what will she do now? I usually keep her in at night.’
‘Shouldn’t cats be out at night?’
This time Maddy rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone assumes this, but actually they’re more likely to get run over at night.’
‘Annadale Close is hardly the A30.’
‘And they do more damage to wildlife. Maybe I should go and look for her. She’ll be hungry.’
‘You are staying right here.’ His eyes glared, matching his firm tone. ‘I’ll go and look for her. And while I’m there I’ll have a chat to the fire brigade, to assess the damage to your house.’
‘She’s completely black, with one white paw.’
‘I know what she looks like.’ Harry sounded irked. He didn’t need to keep Maddy locked in his house, she was calmer now. The hysteria had ebbed away. Though she wanted to cry she was now holding it in around Harry. And the vodka was helping; he’d poured a very large measure.
***
Harry locked Maddy in his house again, and went in search of her cat. He scratched his head, and rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension out of his body. How had he managed to get involved with her problems?
When he’d swept his neighbour off her feet, into a fireman’s carry, he really hadn’t thought things through. Maddy, now he knew her name, was not what he needed in his life. He wanted simplicity, quiet, solitude. Not a hysterical woman. Or house fires! Now he’d offered her a room for the night. It only has to be one night. What had he been thinking? For a start, he didn’t have a spare bed. Looks like you’re on the sofa tonight, mate.
The look in his former colleague’s eyes, telling Harry to get the crazed woman out of the area and to let them work, had kicked his old firefighter instinct in. To help and protect, and calm the situation, that’s what led Harry to react the way he did – the only way he knew how. Grabbing her arms, and hoisting her, full firefighter carry, over his shoulder and into his house. It was almost prehistoric. It would have been if he’d hit her over the head with his club first. If he’d had one of course.
Probably would have helped actually. She’d turned even more enraged by his actions. Kicking, screaming. Luckily he had the strength to hold her small frame though he probably was going to have a few bruises for his trouble. Fierce green eyes had glared at him when he’d set her down. Yep, definitely a witch.
Now he was looking for her damn cat. Could his evening get any worse? Oh, the irony. The thing is, he’d seen the cat in the house when he’d left this morning. He hadn’t wanted to tell Maddy that piece of information. Had the thing had the sense to leave the house before the blaze caught? Cats had a sixth sense, didn’t they? Or was it just nine lives? However much he disliked cats, he hoped it was alive, and he would find it, because Maddy had been through enough tonight.
With the smell of smoke still in the air, and firemen clearing up, reeling in the hoses, Harry could see the black scar of fire around Maddy’s