Carla had disappeared down the stairs. I dived back into Joe's room and dragged him from his bed. 'Go away,' he grunted as he hit the floor. 'Not the time for damn-fool tricks. Oh, my head!'
I slapped him across the face. 'Wake up!' I shouted at him. 'The place is on fire.'
'Uh?' He opened his eyes and shook his head so that his cheeks quivered. 'Wadidyousay?'
'Fire!' I yelled at him.
'Eh? What?' He sat up and regarded me with bleary eyes. 'Aren't trying to be funny by any chance, old man?'
'For God's sake!' I said. 'Can't you hear it?'
'There's a sort of roaring in my ears. Blood pressure. Always get it after drinking too much.' Then he began sniffing. 'By God! You're right. There is a fire."
He lumbered awkwardly to his feet, shaking himself like a bear coming out of hibernation. 'Bad thing, drink,' he muttered. 'Perhaps it's all a dream?'
'It isn't a dream,' I said. 'Go and look for yourself.' I began gathering up his clothes.
As soon as he opened the door a blast of hot air hit us in the face. There was not much smoke. The wood had caught now and the flames were roaring and crackling along the match-boarding. 'Good God!' Joe said. 'Place'll burn like tinder.'