Thursday, 3 May 2007
The Fire Part 2
I walked towards Jonna's Cottage keys clutched foolishly in hand. 'You might need these' I smiled at the firemen. He looked at me and looked at Jonna's front door. It was all smashed in. The Hall way dark and ominous, part of the wall adjoining The Steading gone. Then I realised there were hoses in Jonna's. They were pumping water up from the lochan. Oh no my fish! What about my fish. What! I was worried that the pump would suck up my fish and throw them into the fire. . . .odd the things you think. I was told the fish would be fine the pump had a filter. At that point I thought it was only the hallway of Jonna's damaged . . . 'we can shut the door to the rest of the house and it will be fine', I told the firemen confidently. Later, when it was safe, (safe at that point it I didn't think my life would ever be safe again) they took me round Jonna's. The fire had got through into the loft and burnt along the entire length of the cottage. Part of the roof was gone. The upstairs double room was fire damaged. The rest of the house was wrecked, but not by fire. I could see even with torchlight that everything was blackened. Water was dripping through the ceiling. The whole house was sodden, I was wading ankle deep in murky water.. No wonder I had got such odd looks from the firemen when I was babbling on saying it would be ok in Jonna's Cottage.
In the early hours of Sunday morning, I walked round to the back of The Steading and burst out laughing. There was no upstairs, nothing, but jutting out into the middle of no-where was the first floor decking. It looked so gigglingly bizarre. The next day I climbed up onto the decking. It was burnt, but there was enough of it left to stand on and look down into the ruins.
The fire it was estimated had started around 8.30pm, but not found until 10.30pm – we live in an isolated spot at the end of the track By three in the morning the fireman started to pack up ready to leave. That was another low point. In an odd way I had felt safe with all the firemen around. For the duration of the night they were my protectors . . . .and yes Milla there was a compensation in having gorgeous firemen surrounding me. Trouble was I knew them all and their wives – cruel or what.
So they left. My Angel stayed the night and most of the next day. We all went to bed around 5.00am, but slept little.
Sunday 16th Jan was spent talking to more police, the fire chief who was so kind, more firemen checking that everything was damped down ok. Husband on his way back.
The phone didn't stop all day with friends ringing up to offer sympathy and support. It transpired the drama club had continued with the party and had decided not come and be with me because they thought they might be in the way. Oh so wrong. I really had needed their support. It took me a long time to get over the feeling of abandonment and resentment.
Then came another low spot. My Angel had gone. It was the evening. Yet another visit by the police. We checked through my insurance policies etc. Everything was so unreal. Then the Policeman – one I knew - asked me if the fire was an insurance job . . . Didn't see that one coming. I was told if there was any suspicion at all I would be taken to Stirling and grilled 'and I mean really grilled' he said. Berludy hell. Could it get any worse. Oh yes!
But it has been a gorgeous day today so I'll keep doom and gloom to a dull roar now.
The fire was investigated thoroughly. It was thought to have started upstairs in the back bedroom and most likely by something left on charge – mobile phone, lap top . . who knows. Our very own forensic expert investigator said that his feeling and that of the police and fire brigade was that the guests knew what had happened, but there was a wall of silence and we would probably never know for sure.
We lost a lot of money through the fire. We were well insured, but not quite in the way we had thought for loss of earnings – another story.
Jonna's was re-built by July 2005. People actually came to stay with us despite the mess. Love them all. The Steading was re-built by June last year. Husband and I now firmly back together had to make the decision that we had no option but to sell. We put our cottage and The Farm House on the market – horrible wrench. We had also decided that if it all went wrong and we got neighbours we couldn't live with we would up sticks and sell the lot. . . . . . .
I'll post the rest this evening . . . . unless you are all bored rigid by now.