The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street Read online

  ‘Hello!’ Marlene seemed to start a little when she noticed her, and the conversation stopped, turning to cheery hellos. The women transformed before her eyes from the cast of Hocus Pocus to something from The Darling Buds of May. In a split second they were all sitting contritely, arms clasped together on their laps, looking straight at her. Great, she thought, panicking slightly and looking longingly at the door. Here comes the inquisition.

  ‘So, did you sleep well?’

  ‘I did thanks. We both did actually.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Marlene said, holding up the pot in question. Lucy nodded and watched the steaming hot tea pour into the cute china cup and saucer. Looking around the shop, she could see why the ladies raved about it. It was like a home from home; little corners full of interesting trinkets and pieces of furniture, with the tables front and centre for people to come in, have a cuppa, do their hobbies in company. She couldn’t imagine coming to one of these herself, back home. Perhaps she should have done, made more effort to get out of the house once in a while. She knew why she hadn’t though. being in public meant dealing with people, and the human race loved to revel in the differences of others.

  ‘Everything okay back home?’ asked Grace, never one to shy away from an awkward question.

  ‘Fine thanks,’ Lucy replied, in as neutral a voice as possible. ‘It’s nice to get away, have a break.’

  Grace nodded slowly, before looking out of the window. ‘Agatha’s not coming till later, so how come Taylor’s here?’

  Amanda groaned loudly, distracting Xander momentarily, who was sitting at a table beside her, chewing on a huge doorstep-sized piece of red velvet cake.

  ‘He’s here on official Mayweather business, for the wife. Christenings, and the seasonal run-up. Agatha’s bugging all the shop owners. Once the Austen open air event is done, she’s like a dog with a bone.’ The door opened, and she hushed immediately. Sebastian Taylor, dapper as ever, even in his relaxed checked shirt and jeans, strode in, a clipboard under his arm and a lazy grin on his face. Lucy smiled back at him, and his grin widened in response. She couldn’t help it, the man just seemed to shoot Valium into the shop space. She sneaked a peek at the other ladies, and saw similar expressions. The man was like a walking tranquilliser.

  ‘Been shooting eh, Tex?’ Dot quipped, and Lucy looked at her in confusion. Dot nodded to his feet. ‘Cowboy boots. I swear, since you got wed, I think your dress sense has gotten worse, not better.’

  ‘Hey!’ Taylor stuck his lip out. ‘Don’t knock my cowboy boots, they’re good for riding.’

  Lucy heard her son gasp behind her, and turned automatically to see what was wrong. Xander was staring at the boots too, a look of awe on his cute little face.

  ‘You’re really a cowboy?’

  Taylor chuckled. ‘I wish, lad. I drive a car to get around, and I don’t shoot bad guys. I do ride horses though, is that cowboy enough?’

  Xander seemed to mull it over at some length, and Taylor just stood there, waiting as though he had all the time in the world. Lucy wanted to hug him.

  ‘Not really, no, but I won’t tell the real cowboys.’

  That got another laugh from Taylor, and the ladies laughed along with him.

  ‘Okay, thanks very much.’ Taylor walked forward to the table, but instead of sitting down, he knelt to a crouch at the side of the boy. Holding out his hand, he offered a handshake. ‘I’m Taylor, what’s your name?’

  Xander shook his hand immediately, so hard that Taylor’s hand banged on the table a couple of times. If it hurt, Taylor didn’t acknowledge it.

  ‘I’m Xander Iain Walsh, pleased to meet you.’ He pointed to his mother. ‘That’s my mum Lucy, we’ve come on holiday for the summer. Dad stayed home for work.’

  ‘Ah well, we are glad you came, Xander. Tell me, have you ever been on a horse?’

  Xander shook his head. ‘I tried to go on a donkey once, at the seaside, but I didn’t like it. It pooped on the sand.’

  Taylor chuckled again. ‘Well, if you ever do want to be a cowboy for a day, let me know, and I will show you our ponies.’ He looked across at Lucy, and she found herself nodding, despite her misgivings. This summer was all about Xander, so if he wanted to ride a pony, he would ride a damn pony. ‘Great, so, Amanda, can I borrow you for a minute?’ He brandished the clipboard with an apologetic grin, and Amanda eye-rolled him into the back room.

  The ladies all waited till the door closed behind them, then leant forward, closer to Lucy.

  ‘If Agatha tries to rope you in, just shrug it off, tell her you are here on holiday, and far too busy to help. Taylor’s married to her, and Amanda is like family. They are already damned, but we can save you.’ Dot patted the hands on her lap. ‘Honestly, she will accept it if you are firm.’

  Grace snorted. ‘Like you were, about the community centre bake sale? My fingers are still sore from mixing all those ruddy cupcakes!’ She pointed out of the shop window, eyes focusing on Lucy. ‘I tell ya, that woman was a menace. We all said no, that we were busy, but did she listen? Did she ’eckers! Then, come the day, she springs a bloody cupcake competition on us and stands there dissing our work! She was like Simon Cowell on acid.’

  Marlene smoothed down her jumper. ‘I didn’t think she was that bad.’

  Dot guffawed. ‘Of course you didn’t, you ruddy well won!’

  Marlene pulled a happy face at Lucy. ‘I know.’ She stage-whispered the rest. ‘I just like you lot remembering that important fact.’

  Grace looked around the room. ‘Whatever, Nigella, where is my blinking needle?’

  Marlene shrank away from her, her hand covering her rump protectively.

  ‘Well, I think we shall be off, anyway.’ Lucy stood to leave, her duty being done. Her aunt had asked her to come, and be friendly, and she had. Xander was still at the table, holding his fork midair with the last piece of cake on.

  ‘Noo, my cake!’

  Lucy headed over to him, ruffling his hair as she always did.

  ‘Finish it up, then we can have a look for some Lego.’

  Dot frowned. ‘I’m not sure you’ll get any round here, honey. You might have to order it in.’

  Lucy’s heart sank. She thought as much.

  ‘Shall we order it online then, Xander, and have a look around the shops anyway?’

  She passed him her phone, but when she looked back he was frowning.

  ‘It’s saying that we can’t go online, Mum.’

  Shit. The SIM Card. He was frowning at the screen, jabbing away at the buttons.

  ‘Mum, it’s not working. Does that mean Dad can’t call us?’

  Lucy felt the air in the shop change, and the conversation trickle to a stop. Xander was now looking up at her, his eyes wide open and focusing on her. It was his anxious face, an expression she knew so well. She licked her lips, trying to get them moist, looking around her at the women, but they were studiously pretending not to be listening, fiddling with their crafts, rummaging in their bags.

  ‘Xander,’ she started, coming to sit in the chair next to him. ‘Mummy and Daddy love you very much, and Daddy is working hard at home while we are on holiday. Mummy and Daddy had a little bit of a fight, and so I got cross and took something out of my phone to stop it working. I’m sorry. Shall we see if we can get a new number while we are shopping?’

  Xander still had his worried face on, and she gave him the time he needed to process what she was saying. The ladies were all speaking in hushed voices now, and Lucy could feel her face flushing as her dirty laundry was aired out in front of them. God knows what they thought of her! She didn’t even know why she had done it herself. She just remembered sitting on that train, wanting to protect her son from the world, if only for a few weeks. She wanted to protect him from the kids at his school, who picked on him, laughed at him. Called him names. She wanted to get away from the stares he got in shops when he couldn’t cope with his senses. Most of all, she wanted to protect him from his father. And that was wha
t hurt most of all.

  ‘Mum, are you not listening to me? Can’t you just put the thing back in? Dad could send us the Lego then, from my room.’

  Lucy sighed, and pulled herself out of the chair.

  ‘Let’s go get a new SIM Card and see about ordering that Lego. Goodbye, ladies!’ She gave a cheery wave that she did not feel and motioned for her son to follow her. He stood up and went to follow, but then, almost as an afterthought, he returned to his plate and proceeded to dip his face right into it, licking all the crumbs off with his cute little pink tongue.

  ‘Xander,’ she whispered, trying to get his attention. ‘Love, what did we talk about?’

  She turned to the women, who were all looking at the little boy, and automatically started to explain. What she didn’t expect, however, was the look on their faces. There was no judgement there, just amusement. Marlene was even laughing a little as he made his way around the plate, getting every little bit of cream cheese frosting off it and into his mouth.

  ‘Sorry, he has a thing about dirt, but he will always lick his plate clean when there is cake involved.’

  Xander finished and put the plate down on the counter.

  ‘I’m autistic – we don’t like change, but we love cake!’

  Lucy’s eyes bulged. Marlene looked just as shocked. Xander’s autism wasn’t something they hid, but Xander himself never referred to it. Maybe time apart from home was going to be worth all the grief she would get when she went back. It wasn’t anything to hide after all, so why had they?

  ‘Well,’ Grace said, getting up and heading for where Amanda had stashed her needle. She was shaking like she was having knitting withdrawal symptoms, which she probably was. ‘I’m impressed, Xander.’ She located the needle, and punched the air triumphantly. ‘I’m a little jealous too. I would love to enjoy cake as much as you do!’

  The ladies all laughed, and Lucy found herself laughing along too. Xander bounced out of the shop all smiles and sugar highs, and it made her heart soar. She was started to really like these ladies. Aunt Marlene was right, a change was as good as a rest.

  Chapter 6

  Sam’s first morning in Westfield was uneventful. Waking up in the cottage he was renting, he listened to the quiet of his surroundings. It had been a long while since he had lived with his adoptive mother in her full and noisy house, but he still found himself missing the noise of little feet on the stairs, music battling for supremacy in different rooms, the heartwarming belly laughs of his mother as one of the children made her laugh. Even in his flat in London, he would be awoken by the sound of the streets outside his window, the sound of the fire engines starting up in the middle of the night. He rented near to the station, so that when things got bad he could be called in. There in six and a half minutes from the time the call came in to him walking into the fire station. He liked to be near.

  He stretched out his arms in front of him, working out the kinks from sleeping on the unfamiliar and rather hard mattress in the master bedroom. It was a cosy cottage, homely and clean, with some nice touches throughout. Milk and bread and other essentials were in the fridge and cupboards when he had finally come in last night, and he was only connected to one other cottage, seemingly occupied judging from the lights that were in the window when he had arrived. No car though, so he couldn’t get a read on who was staying there. Still, he couldn’t see them receiving many night call-outs, so he shouldn’t be a nuisance. He was used to making himself smaller around people by now. Sometimes in life, he had to, despite what his mother taught him. He needed to fit in, or at least fly under the radar. At least for now. Toe the line.

  Westfield Fire Station was a feeder station, as well as catering for the residents of Westfield. They often helped out on call-outs in Harrogate and other surrounding areas. Little villages mainly, dotted around the vast green fields and forests of the area. It sure made a difference from the concrete jungle he was used to, but it had great value all the same. This wasn’t an easy job, by any means. He had not come here for an easy ride, job wise. True, he had his own agenda, but the job and the guys at the house were great. It had felt welcoming from the first moment he had worked in there, all those months ago. Filling a staff need and looking for answers.

  Heading downstairs a short while later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, he made himself a coffee using the complimentary sachets and made a mental note to get some shopping in after his shift, or at least book an online delivery. Back home, he would place the same order week after week, to be delivered the same day. Convenient, but, tasting the coffee in his mug, he realised that change perhaps wasn’t such a bad thing. He opened up the patio doors in the kitchen, standing just outside the door, his bare feet feeling the cool of the neatly decked seating area outside. A barbecue stood in the corner, covered up and tucked away from the elements, with a large seat on the other. Perfect for family holidays, he was sure. Lucky for him that this had been available. The thought of living in a hotel had filled him with dread, but a holiday cottage? He hadn’t been keen when the chief suggested it, picturing plaid and crocheted doilies, but he actually rather liked living in a house. It felt homely, in an odd way. He was busy looking out at the countryside that stretched out beyond the garden borders when he heard a noise to his left.

  Sitting on one of the chairs, wrapped in a teal fluffy robe that he recognised from his own welcome pack, was the girl from the train. He opened his mouth to say hello, but then she started talking.

  ‘I know you’re not happy I left, but we needed to get away. Don’t you get that?’

  She was sitting side on from him, twirling a piece of lavender in her free hand, and he found himself taking a step back, closer to his porch. He could slip back through the patio doors, but he found himself hesitating. She sounded upset, and he had a feeling that this was something to do with why she was here. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had come to find answers, and perhaps she had escaped whatever she had to find her own.

  She stood suddenly, dragging her fingers through her unkempt morning hair and sticking the lavender behind her ear. The movement made Sam yearn to lean in and smell the fragrance that it left there, near her hair.

  ‘No, you can’t speak to him, he’s asleep! I’m not waking him up for you to interrogate him like you normally do! We are here on holiday, he needs this. So do I, come to think of it. I asked you to come away with us, for us to sort things out, but you couldn’t do it. What do you want us to do, hang around at home for you all summer whilst we wait for you to grace us with your presence?’

  Her head snapped back, the phone suddenly thrust forward in her hand. She forked it vigorously before speaking into it again. The sprig fell from her ear and landed on the stone slabs under her feet.

  ‘Iain, I don’t give a shitting shite about your shirts! Is that really what you care about?’ She flumped back down on the seat, shaking her head. She was angry. Even a stranger could tell that.

  ‘I know I don’t talk like that, but you pushed me, Iain.’ She sighed heavily, and her voice cracked a little when she spoke again. ‘I’m just trying to help my son.’

  Whatever the caller said didn’t help. In fact, she started to cry softly.

  ‘Iain, you know where we are. I shouldn’t have changed my number, but you …’ A sob escaped, and her hand flew up to her mouth. ‘You know what you did, Iain. I just can’t spend all summer living like that. He can’t cope and, to be honest, neither can I any more.’

  Sam decided he had heard more than enough. Turning to go back into the house, he didn’t see a ceramic blue plant pot there, a topiary tree potted in it, and ended up kicking it with his bare foot.

  ‘Arggh!’ He tried to trap his pain in his mouth, but it squeaked out. He immediately looked to his right, to see if she had heard. Funny that, how a human’s first reaction after kicking a ceramic pot and being ‘punched’ in the scrotum by a ball-shaped tree is to look around to see if anyone was a witness to their failure. She had heard. She wa
s up out of her seat, looking right at him. The phone was still to her ear, and after a moment of panic crossing her features, she narrowed her eyes and made a shushing sound with her finger.

  ‘Iain, I have to go, okay? Xander is waking up.’ She flinched, nibbling her bottom lip as though considering something. ‘I’ll ask him to call you, yes. I have to go.’

  She ended the call and put her hands on her hips.

  ‘Earwig much?’

  Sam held up his hands in surrender.

  ‘I’m sorry, I really wasn’t. I just came out here to drink my coffee, and then …’ One look at her and he forgot what he was trying to say. Her robe had come undone a little, showing a white t-shirt and pink shorts underneath. It was distracting, and he wasn’t a great liar in the first place. Lies and secrets were two things he abhorred. He dragged his eyes back up to her face, but not before she noticed what he was looking at, covering herself with her robe. Her cheeks flushed, and Sam was conflicted by the action. He had invaded her privacy and then ogled at her, which was bad. The flush in her cheeks wasn’t though, nor the biting of her bottom lip, which she seemed to use as a comfort motion when stressed. That was good. It lit up her whole face. He couldn’t help but think about how he could make her cheeks flush that way again.

  ‘And then?’ she prompted, hands firmly back on her hips now, with the added movement of a foot tap. He noticed her feet were bare, pretty polish adorning the toes. Polish that was a little wonky.

  She followed his eye line and crossed one foot over the other, hiding one set of toes with its counterpart.

  ‘Xander did my nails last night. Or did you already know that?’

  He pulled an action like she had wounded him, reeling back a little and putting his hand over his chest as though shot through with her words.