(046)
The sun has barely risen before a group has formed on the opposite bank. They watch on in loose-fitting pyjamas, and some with their hair still matted from their pillows, as the firefighters pick their way through the debris. Vanessa, her eyes bleary from sleep, nods to her neighbours as she makes her way to the front to get a better look.
“It’s a miracle no-one was hurt.” Sharon, her next door neighbour, says to her, delicately blowing on her coffee before taking a sip.
“Mmm,” Vanessa says, placing the tip of a cigarette between her lips and busying herself with lighting it, “it really is.”
“Apparently,” Amanda from two doors down chimes in, “they’re saying someone might have started it on purpose.”
A short, shared gasp as Vanessa and Sharon both turn to her, eyebrows raised.
“Really?” Vanessa asks, blowing smoke out the side of her mouth.
“How do you know?” Sharon adds.
Amanda pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“I overheard someone saying it.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Vanessa shakes her head, absentmindedly tapping the cigarette with her thumbnail and flicking ash onto the floor.
“There’s some sick people in the world.” Amanda shakes hers too.
On the bank opposite, the half burnt fabric of the gazebo is removed, revealing the full extent of the damage to the tree behind it. Sharon nudges Vanessa, who’s putting the cigarette out under her flip-flop.
“Look, look– look at the tree.” She points towards it, accidentally catching the attention of a fireman, to whom she offers a pitiful, sympathetic smile.
“Oh that’s awful.” Vanessa says, covering her eyes from the sun with her hand and leaning forward with a squint.
“So awful.” Sharon says, tapping her acrylic nails rhythmically against her mug.
They stand on the water’s edge, surveying the damage with keen eyes, the quiet murmurings of the group accompanied by birdsong in the distance.
“The poor animals.” Amanda laments, “Why would anyone want to do this?”
“I know.” Sharon says. “There were children inside for god sake.” Her mug is finally empty, but still held close to her chest.
“Yeah, my Callum was there – came back home last night, stinking of smoke.” Vanessa says with a cough and a grimace.
They both look at her, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.
“Jesus, is he alright?” Amanda asks.
Vanessa shrugs.
“He plays off like he is, but you know how teenagers can be.”
“I’ll say it again,” says Sharon, “it’s a miracle no-one was hurt.”
“Mmm,” Vanessa agrees, taking out another cigarette, “whoever did it needs stringing up, though, that’s for sure.”
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