23
Despite knowing my car had been burnt as well, I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of the Benz in my driveway. It was a blackened hulk, bare steel showing in patches where the paint had burnt off, the seats and interior reduced to melted frames and springs. I parked and stared at it for a while, and then sent a silent thank you to the CFA firies for saving my house. The paint on the nearest window frame looked a little blistered, but other than that and the front garden being a bit singed, it was all good. I went inside and made strong coffee and then sat at the kitchen table in the blessed silence and did some heavy thinking.
Funeral. Car insurance people. Pub insurance people. If we were really lucky, the old antique office safe would have survived, Macca’s relic he refused to get
