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Facing towards the sea, near to the edge of the merciless cliffs I heard someone approaching behind me. Not caring what may happen I continued to stand motionless looking down at the sea below crashing against the rocks.

With my face turned towards the mist coming towards me from the sea I felt a hand touching my shoulder from behind. I moved forward slightly in response to this, to just a few inches from the edge of the cliff. My body shook in fear but I was completely certain about one matter. If he wanted the satisfaction of looking into my terrified face before he pushed me over the cliffs to my death I knew that I could deny him that at least.


After a pause I heard the sound of his feet retreat, but I felt no reassurance from this. I sensed that he would return after the passing of a few minutes to taunt me further before exacting his final revenge. I have lost everything. There's no point in going on anymore.

A strange coldness is coming over me. I see the mist drifting over from Robin Hood's bay. The brooding roak hovers close to me. At the cliff edge I hear my sister's faint voice calling from the rocks below, saying, 'Join me, John.' In my mind at the same time I can see the red glow of the flames of that terrible fire.

I move a little further towards the edge, wishing to be near my sister. Thoughts of her are broken by a sound in the distance. I feel a growing sense of unease. I hear the menacing sound of footsteps moving towards me once more. I must remain brave. It can't be very long now before I join my sister and Sarah.

While I wait to join them I will let my mind travel back in time for the final time.

It was October 4th 1887 and I was lost in my own thoughts as I was leaving the railway station and heading in the direction of home. I could hear the familiar cries of laughter ringing out from the Spring Vale Tavern overlooking the station and thought of going in, but after a moment's hesitation I walked on. It seemed warm and inviting, unlike anything I could find back at my miserable home.

My pace slackened as I passed the bleak hovels and tenements further up by Marvell Terrace and stopped for a moment to check the coins in my pocket. There was just enough to return and drink some beer at the tavern. Smiling now, I began to walk back in its direction. I had never dared to enter but it seemed unusually tempting on this evening with the bright lights and cheerful voices ringing out from the taproom. Just as I was about to go I stopped abruptly, the thought of the stern comments I would receive from my father flashed through my mind.

My mother and sister, Emily, had influenza and were confined to bed. I had no doubts that my father would be upstairs attending to them when I arrived home. A feeling of guilt came over me. I sighed as I turned my back on the welcoming place and slowly trudged home with my head bowed towards the pavement, dragging my feet and kicking out angrily at any small stones that were on the path.

I stumbled and fell on the pavement of Pallister Road. Picking myself up I cursed the cracked and uneven pavement on which I had fallen. After my cursing had subsided I noticed that the sky seemed strangely bright for an October evening. Crossing over into Nunthorpe Street it became even more noticeable. The air became thick with smoke swirling over the rooftops and hovering over the gardens and streets. My pace quickened as I approached Manor Avenue and could then see red flames shoot up and light up the sky . The pungent smell of smoke hit my nostrils. I was running now in the direction of my family home in Northland Place a few streets away breathing heavily and almost choking on the acrid fumes.

Coins from my pocket fell on the hard pavement. I stopped for a few moments, hoping to find them but decided that this was futile. Even more telling than the loss of the coins was the apprehension and the pounding in my chest as I started running again. With every breathless step I took my panic increased. I turned the corner of Marshall Avenue, into my road and was now only a few hundred yards away from my home.

I screamed out as I approached my home moments later. Flames had destroyed the building and were now on the point of doing the same to the old cedar trees in the garden that my sister loved so much.

'Stop!' screamed the man by the fire tender as I tried to get nearer.

'I must get to my family. Did they escape?'

There was no reply. Deep down I knew it was hopeless. The house had already been reduced to rubble by the fire, but the man still continued to douse the flames with water. Many people stood outside on the road much like a solemn crowd at a funeral, though in my mind all their faces seemed like a blur at first. I frantically ran from one person in the crowd to another screaming the same begging call. 'Have you seen my family. The Newby's. Are they safe?'

They stood rooted to the spot but didn't speak to me. It was a sea of blank and expressionless faces. Rubbing my eyes, I recognised a neighbour's face in the crowd and ran frantically in the direction of this red-faced old gentleman.

'Mr Jackson. Did my family escape?' I begged as he turned away from me. I grabbed his collar and pleaded with the man before looking and seeing Constable Bentley approach me. Pulling me away, he placed his enormous hand gently on my shoulder and spoke softly almost at the point of whispering. 'It's a tragic accident. They're gone!'

'My mother and father?'

'Yes.'

'Not Emily as well?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'It can't be true!'

'It is, I am very sad to say.'

'Didn't anyone try to rescue them?'

'The fire was so bad no one could have saved them.'

'The fire must have been…'

'They didn't suffer.'

'I wish I could believe that's true,' I said.

'The smoke would have suffocated them quietly and peacefully before the flames ever reached them.'

'It can't be!'

'They would have been peaceful.'

His sympathetic manner did not soothe me but only made the pain and guilt inside me simmer and then boil over. 'If I'd only been present in the house I could have stopped this from happening,' I shouted.

Constable Bentley held his hand more firmly on my shoulder for the next few minutes and whispered several times, 'You're not to blame!' I looked up at his dark-blue conical helmet with the silver badge in front. The menacing red flashes of the fire reflected in his badge. I had to turn my eyes away.

My Aunt Edith was ushered through the crowd of onlookers by another Constable to take me back to her house nearby on Ferriby Road. I was numb with shock but remember Constable Bentley visiting me the following day, saying that the fire may have started around 7.30pm in the back of the house, with the ignition of clothes drying near the open fire. He spoke reassuring words of comfort, while my frozen faced aunt sat nearby without saying a single word.

It may have been easy for the Constable to utter such reassuring words, but he didn't know the full story.

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