It was around 10 pm one summer’s evening.  The babies were tucked up in bed and Sarah, David and Anna were in the living room being regular couch potatoes.  The now commonplace vile fag-ash pong seeped in under the doorway.  As the room became saturated with the deadly, disgusting atmosphere, David screamed:

            “God’s just told me there is a fire in the kitchen.”

            The three bolted out into the hall to find the kitchen door a-jar.  On entering they were greeted by thick black copious fumes.  Sarah and David quickly glanced at the window to find flames licking the drawn curtains.  They also noticed that the kettle was half mangled.  Overcome by the asphyxiating smoke, Sarah slammed the door shut, ordered Anna to alert the neighbours and call out the fire fighters whilst she and David woke the slumbering babies.

            “Mum, mum, I saw Satan sitting on the window-sill holding a box of matches. He was laughing.  He looked really ugly and scary - he was all red and scaly and he had horns.... He was angry about your book and he said that he has the power to stop you writing it,” cried out David.

            “Not a word about any of that to anyone.  Do you understand?  If we’re not careful we’ll end up in a loony bin,” answered his alarmed mother.  “It’s really odd though; how come the alarms didn’t go off?  There’s one in the kitchen and one in the hall.”  As she was speaking, suddenly both alarms began to shrill simultaneously.  It was as if they could hear her!  It was so strange.  Normally the things activate at the slightest whiff of smoke, such as when the sausages are grilling.

            Sarah and her kids took refuge in the old folks home next door.  As she sipped on sweet tea, she watched the fire burning in the window opposite.  After twenty minutes or so, the firemen arrived, broke open her two back doors, fought their way through her porch where rows of damp washing hung, and extinguished the fire.  A fireman named Barry introduced himself.

            “It looks like it started in your kettle, possibly even the washing machine.”

            “But that’s impossible.  Everything was switched off. I’m always very careful with electrical items,” responded Sarah.

            “Well, did you leave the cooker on?  Were you using a chip pan?  Can you think of anything that might’ve been the source?” asked the officer.

            By now Sarah was so confused and upset that she instinctively took the kindly fireman into her confidence and began blurting out that strange choking smells had bedevilled her of late.  As she spoke, her gut instincts told her that she’d made a mistake in entrusting Barry.  And although he suggested that she keep a diary of events and he assured her that he wouldn’t blab, she knew he would.  She stressed that there was probably some explanation for the weird goings-on and that the fire must’ve been caused by an electrical fault - probably in the kettle.  But she was kicking herself for being so honest.

            In less than an hour, her house was crawling with senior policemen.  They informed her that the fire had been started maliciously and that David was being quizzed because they suspected him of arson.   They swiped her son’s work-books, her diary notes on the phantoms and the first few leaves of her book about single motherhood, women’s rights and unethical officialdom.  She found herself in the bizarre situation of talking to them about Ghosts and God and explaining why she was writing the book.

            They thought they had a cuckoo on their hands.  CID demanded her keys, insisted her place needed to be searched, photographs taken and forensic evidence obtained.  Jesus Christ, they’d only had one small insignificant fire!  Sarah was beginning to wish she’d tried to tackle the fire herself.  Anything would be better than being treated as a hardened criminal.

            Luckily Lol was able to put them up for the night.  Sarah walked up her run-down road, tired and deflated with her brood in tow and babes in arms.  As she approached her pal’s, her antagonist appeared in front of her as if from nowhere.  Her spirits sank deeper and her blood chilled.

            “Sarah love, are you alright?  I was just passing and I saw the fire engines outside your house.  What happened?”

            “Oh, it’s nothing really.  We’re all ok, that’s the main thing.  I must go.  We’re all worn out.”

            As she attempted to sidestep him, he touched her arm.  She recoiled.

            “Please love, don’t be like that,” said the son of Satan. “Look, I’m so sorry about everything.  You know…. I really miss you.... I still love you so much.  You know we’re meant to be together, don’t you?  Please let me make it up to you.  Let’s try again....”

            Sarah was struck dumb at his gall.  His crassness knew no bounds.  He thought he could sidle his way back into her affections since she was at her most vulnerable self, her lowest ebb. 

He hadn’t reckoned on her new found fortitude though and self-belief.  She looked him in the eye and without a flicker of emotion replied “NO” before pushing past him.

In the morning, Sarah was mortified to find her house Fort-Knoxed and guarded by the police.  Anyone would think she’d just committed a murder.  She wasn’t allowed inside, even under police escort, to get essential baby items.  She had to wait for over four hours whilst two CID officials surveyed her pad with a toothcomb.  Lord knows what they were looking for.

            When she did gain entry, the first thing she did was arrange for the locks to be changed.  She didn’t trust the police one iota.  Good o’l dad turned up to help her in that department but he wasn’t so supportive about the source of the fire.  In fact he was furious. He lectured:

            “You’re going to have to keep a closer eye on David or you and he are going to end up in a hell of a lot of trouble....”

            “Don’t you start blaming David too.  He didn’t start it.  I know cos he was with me. I’ve got no idea what happened - it must’ve been something electrical,” Sarah said, unconvincingly.

            “Just keep matches and lighters away from David.... That’s all I’m saying,” said Bob, ignoring her.  “And for Christ’s sake, shut up about spirits.  There’s no such thing as ghosts and goblins.... only in your head.”

            “You wouldn’t be so flamin’ judgemental if these things were happening to you.  I wish I had kept my trap shut now.  I’m too honest for my own soddin’ good,” moaned Sarah.

            “Too stupid, you mean.  You’ll lose those kids the way you’re going....” snapped Bob.

Lol came round to help with the clean up.  It suddenly occurred to both women how extraordinary it was that none of Sarah’s laundry needed re-washing - all of it smelt as fresh as daisies.  And yet thick black smut had billowed out for hours after the fire had been snuffed out.  Sarah examined the kettle.  It was half melted and she could see where it had been touching the front of the large box of washing powder that stood in front of the window.  The fire experts had told her that someone had started the fire in the curtains and yet if that was the case it would’ve had to reach the kettle via the washing powder.  But the washing powder wasn’t burnt.  Only the front bit where the kettle had leaned on it was affected, where a V-shape had been caused.  How odd.  Sarah pondered the state of the cupboard above the washing powder. It hadn’t been touched by any flames.  It wasn’t even sooty and yet the whole kitchen [walls and ceiling] was black, blacker than a bad mood.  But then Sarah knew that this had been no ordinary fire.  She got the impression tho that her friend didn’t really believe her either about the spirits.  Who could blame her?  There were never any untoward happenings when anyone else was in the house.

            But Lol was interested when Sarah spoke about God and the insanity of the world. 

            “I reckon God speaks to us all in different ways.  He talks to me through my kids, especially David.  I’ve been reading some books on Mother Theresa too.  God used her as a pencil.  I think he uses us through our different strengths and personalities to spread his word.  His message is truth, justice, goodness and love.  The light of love is far more powerful than the darkness of this world.  That darkness is money, power, corruption, violence, lies.... It is up to the women of the world to rise up against abusive, self-serving men.  And good people have to expose crookedness within government bodies.”  

            “It is men who drive women insane,” retorted Lol, especially those greedy hypocrites in suits - those men who call themselves dignitaries.  Madness; it’s the impasse confronting those whom cultural conditioning has deprived of the very means of protest or self-affirmation - it is the opposite of rebellion.”

            “That’s for sure,” agreed Sarah.  “The truth is men label women insane when we dare to be assertive, ambitious, challenging.... in fact a threat to their very existence and their lifestyles.  They call us troublesome to shut us up.  They used to chuck us in lunatic asylums, drug us, feed us electrical impulses....”

            “The craziest and saddest fact is that the greatest pain, mental illness and lowest spirit is not amongst the poor and dying of the third world, but in the crippled and under-nourished minds of well-fed, well-housed and well-educated folk in affluent parts of the world, especially the greedy rich,” remarked her enlightened pal.

            “It’s called loneliness,” said Sarah. “God says you can build a bonfire of love out of anything.  He also says we have to name and shame evildoers and teach our rulers about righteousness.  He says we have to be courageous and we have to use lawful protest rather than violence to get our message over.  He says we have to remove all hate from our hearts and that we must love most those who we hate the most.”

            “That’s a bit of a tall order but it does make sense.  We have to teach our torturers how to behave,” observed Lol.  “I think it’s true to say that those who suffer the most have much to teach and give to the rest of us.”

            “Yes, that’s God’s doing,” said Sarah, “And yet I believe he doesn’t give us too much hardship or expect so much of us that we can’t handle it.  He knows our limitations and I think we should just allow him to use us fully without consulting us.”

            “Put your hand in his and walk with him, so to speak,” mused Lol

            “Yeah, like having a faith that moves mountains,” laughed Sarah.

            “Do something beautiful for God,” quipped Lol.

            “Listen to your conscience and respond to your calling.  Everyone had a cross to bear.  But it never exceeds our strengths,” asserted Sarah.

            “We’ll tear down the sinful social structures,” declared Lol, “And give power back to the people.”

            “And redistribute the wealth,” added Sarah.  “There’s enough for everyone’s need but not for everyone’s greed.”

            “Bring down those morally polluted men who befog the truth and worship the Devil,” hissed Lol.

            “The war’s against men,” shrieked Sarah.  “Welcome to World War three.”

            The two pals slapped palms and laughed like maniacs.  Then in a two-fingered salute to Satan, Sarah used her finger to scribble on her sooty wall:

            “Righteousness is our destiny.  Down with corruption.  Justice and Truth WILL prevail.”