50

I suddenly wish we’d never come back here. Arthur was right. Don’t revisit. “So you’re selling up?” I say to Sarah.

“Yeah.” Sarah nods. “It’s a shame, but the party’s over. The hostel took away

our business. They’re buying the land. They’ll build more units.” “Bastards!” says Ben angrily.

“I guess.” She shrugs, sanguine. “To be honest, business was never that great after the fire. I don’t know how Dad has limped on for so long.”

“The fire was terrible,” I chime in, glad to move on to a subject I can talk about. I’m hoping someone will mention the way I brilliantly took command and saved lots of lives, but all Sarah says is, “Yeah, what a drama.”

“It was a faulty cooker or something, wasn’t it?” says Ben.

“Oh no.” Sarah shakes her head, and her earrings make little chinking noises. “That’s what they thought at first. But then they worked out it was someone’s candles. You know, in a bedroom. Scented candles.” She glances at her watch. “I must get my casserole out. Excuse me.”

As she dis