Chapter 3 – A Tragic Past
After parting ways with Isabella, Charlie had run up the steps of his foster home and greeted his caretaker Dorothy with a cheerful wave, before disappearing into the room he shared with four other boys. Thankfully only one of them was there and was too engrossed in his virtual game to pay him any mind so Charlie happily picked up his old scrap book and flopped down on the bed.
This had been the week that his family had died two years ago. The actual anniversary was tomorrow, but the memories were particularly strong today. Charlie studied his favourite photo of his family. It showed all his grandparents together, each one nestled into a corner of their bed. Him and his mother had been arm-in-arm in the middle of the covers and his father was standing behind the bed with his arms around both him and his mother.
They all looked ridiculously happy.
His dad had spent a very long time trying to set the camera up on its tripod and start the timer, so everyone could be in the shot. They could never afford a fancy new smart phone with self-levelling hover function like everyone else would have used. No, the Buckets always made do with their old stuff and somehow never managed to feel like they missed out on anything.
During the day, both his grandpas Joe and George had heckled his dear dad and told him how to set up the camera properly. Problem was, each way was different and so they had spent the afternoon bickering with each other, leaving his dad to set up the camera in peace.
Charlie sighed, it was a bittersweet memory and he missed them all so much. He turned the page of his scrap book and stared at the headline blazoned across the printed A4 paper 'DEATH AND DESTRUCION IN A PEACEFUL TOWN.'
Firefighters yesterday said they were winning their battle to control a huge blaze that ripped through the rundown eastern area of the township, leaving a number of buildings heavily damaged.
Hundreds were evacuated, but sadly 54 people perished in the devastating fires, as they were unable to escape their burning homes.
A fire brigade spokesman said the layout of the buildings, many of which backed on to each other, had hampered access, making it one of the most difficult fires to tackle in a long time."
A spokesperson for the medical team on site has confirmed that most of the casualties were overcome by smoke and their charred remains found in their beds. They never woke up in time to escape.
One particularly tragic scene included a family of seven that lost six to the flames.
The lone survivor is a boy of the tender age of eight.
Most of the area was home to the poorest and most vulnerable of society. Firefighters say that many of the dwellings lacked basic fire safety equipment such as fire alarms or fire escapes.
This tragedy has sparked outrage and the towns mayor has vowed to rebuild and has passed legislation to ensure all future buildings have mandatory fire alarms installed.
In better news, the Wilkinson Foundation, originally set up to foster unwanted pets, has immediately made itself available to not only care for any abandoned pets, but will also provide housing for those who have lost everything.
So far, 28 children have lost their parents or primary caregivers to the fire and will call the Wilkinson Estate home until suitable accommodation can be arranged.
Charlie would never forget that night. The intense heat had woken him up. The stench was unbearable. As he gazed out of his broken window the entire night sky had been an ugly combination of brown and orange. Thick choking smoke made it almost impossible to breathe, or even concentrate. Charlie had stumbled and fumbled his way to the tiny nook where his parents usually slept. The floor was so hot he burned his feet.
The eerie half-darkness and thick smoke made Charlie lose his bearings and fall over his father, waking him up in the process. His dad had immediately grabbed him, broken a window and thrown him outside onto the roof before he really understood what had happened. Gravity had taken hold and sent him rolling off the roof to land harshly on the floor outside.
All he could do after that moment was stare in horror as the entire hut burned down. He never saw his family again.
He was told later by a kindly nurse that his family had never woken up at all and had died peacefully from smoke inhalation. Charlie had been found unconscious on the ground outside by paramedics.
Charlie and many other youngsters had been treated in the local hospital and been herded into the large Wilkinson family home near the centre of town. As the year wore on, most of the other kids had eventually been taken in by relatives and moved elsewhere. Only a handful now remained in the foster home.
The Wilkinson Foundation was run by the kindly Jeffrey and Dorothy Wilkinson, who had been married for longer than Charlie had been alive. He liked them both very much and appreciated all the help they had given everyone. They were very kind people.
Charlie tucked his scrap book back onto the shelf and rolled off the bed. He was very grateful to be living in this beautiful home and to be looked after so well. He just wished it wasn't so noisy all the time.
He glanced over at his open window. On the windowsill, a lone blackbird pecked the seeds he had scattered that morning before school. It warbled and flew away.
Charlie sighed. How many times had he wished to simply fly away? Far away from all of his troubles. The birds always solved their problems that way.
Charlie heard the front door open and Mrs. Wilkinson greet her husband. That meant it was time for dinner. Charlie hopped off the bed and ran to help set the table.
"Evening Charlie."
Mr. Wilkinson had quite a sharp voice, prominent bushy eyebrows and a hawkish face. He could look terribly stern when he gave you a long hard stare through his old-fashioned glasses, but he was one of the most kind-hearted people Charlie had ever met.
As far as Charlie was concerned, both Mr Wilkinson, and his wife Dorothy were like sparkling stars in a world of darkness. Not only did they run an organisation that cared for homeless pets, but they had also opened up their own home to him and the other children who had lost everything in that horrific fire. They had spent so much money on them, when most of society had already forgotten all about them after their five minutes of tragedy had been splashed all over the news.
They were all poor and the world they lived in had no time or sympathy for 'poor orphans' if there was nothing to gain from them. Once the cameras and news media had packed up and left, the dreariness of everyday life had set in once again.
In contrast, Mr. and Mrs Wilkinson were as dependable as a mountain and had become Charlie's rock during the stormy time of settling into his new life.
They chatted about school and other little things as they set out the many dishes and cutlery they would use, and Charlie received a promise of help with his math homework later in the evening.
Mr Wilkinson even suggested inviting Isabelle for dinner again soon, Charlie loved it when that happened.
Charlie had met Isabelle when he was much younger, maybe four or five. His father had worked in a toothpaste factory, and occasionally brought home unusually shaped caps that Charlie used to create a sculpture of the chocolate factory that dominated the town.
He still had a photograph of it in his scrapbook.
His father had met Isabelle at work, and she had helped his father smuggle as many oddly shaped caps as he could. His father always had amusing stories to share whenever he shared a shift with her.
His mother had repeatedly insisted that he bring Isabelle to meet the family and eventually, after much persuasion, she had come for dinner. Since that day she had firmly become part of the family. Everyone loved her, and welcomed her into their home.
She had helped look after Charlie and the grandparents whenever his mother had to go to her own thankless job.
After the fire that had killed them all, Isabelle had been fighting the courts to allow Charlie to live with her, since he had no other family willing to claim him. The courts, in their wisdom, had forbidden any form of adoption, and forced Charlie to remain in the foster home.
They still managed to spend every day together and the Wilkinsons made sure to invite her for dinner as often as possible. Charlie knew, that Isabelle would always be there for him.
Life was pretty good, thought Charlie, as he inhaled the spicy aroma of coconut curry.