Chapter 2
They pulled up at the restaurant ten minutes later and hurried inside.
'Hi, sorry we're late- the traffic at this time of night is appalling. Cohen- the table...yes that's us.' They followed the waiter, waving to people in the restaurant who Sandy was sure he'd never seen before; but then, he thought, a Newpsie is a Newpsie, they're all the same to me. They sat at the table where they always sat and ordered the same bottle of wine, revelling in the simple pleasures each other's company.
Half an hour later, every head in the restaurant (apart from the deaf old woman next to their table who was continuing to complain about the wilting petunias on her front porch) was turned towards the kitchen from where loud shouts in various languages were being emitted.
'Sandy..can you smell..?'
'Fire!' shrieked a woman sitting closest to the kitchen. A waiter tumbled through the swinging doors of the kitchen.
'Ladies, gentleman, please do not worry. We've just had a slight accident, everything is under control.' Most people turned back to their dining partners, occasionally looking back at the kitchen with worried expressions. A few called the waiter over and gestured angrily at the kitchen or asked for bill and hurried out of the restaurant.
'Do you want to go?' Sandy asked his wife who was still gazing in the same direction, but she shook her head:
'No- I mean if it was serious a fire engine would've come, or they would've evacuated us or something, wouldn't they?'. He smiled reassuringly at her and started to eat again. However five minutes later, everybody in the restaurant was pushing to get out in panic as smoke gradually filled the room. Men yelled at each other whilst grasping their wives and attempting to bulldoze a path through the people in front of them.
Suddenly, the lights went out and the orange glow coming from the kitchen was seen by all. There was a soft purr as the sprinklers on the ceiling turned on and sprayed the whole room with a mist of water. There was a loud bang in the kitchen and the glass window in the door shattered whilst various appliances cracked and jumped as they fused. Sparks flew from a light above the crowd and people screamed, now in terror. A few women began to sob in fright and clung to their husbands, whilst the mass of people continued to squeeze through the narrow door like toothpaste coming out of a tube. Sandy wrapped his arms round his wife as she shivered and stared at the flames started to catch the carpet.
'We need to get out another way. Baby, come this way; don't worry, I'll get you out.' Kirsten said nothing but followed her husband, not noticing that her feet were being cut up the broken glass as she had lost her shoes somewhere in the scramble for the door. They reached the window, through which they could see Newport beach, calm and grey. Several people had followed them and one man rushed forward, gripping a chair with a both hands. It collided with the window and there was another crash as the huge pane of glass broke, sending large shards all over the group.
Sandy saw it coming as he stood behind his wife, encircling her trembling body with her arms. He tried in vain to protect her with his hands, not having time to push her out of the way before the storm of glass hit them. He felt rather than heard her sharp cry of pain as she fell back into his arms. He also felt the warm blood over his own right hand and wished he could feel some pain which would mean it was his blood that he felt. But her saw her closed eyes and felt her limp body, and in one movement gathered her in his arms and climbed out of the window, oblivious to the raw, sharp borders of the remaining window frame that dug into his thigh. He was numb to all else apart from the heavy burden he carried and the liquid that was now running down his arm.