The Fireman's Pole

by Sue Brown

  “We’ve got to do that fire inspection at the green today,” Tank said in Dale’s second week. “It’s a formality because nothing changes from year to year, but gotta tick the boxes.”

  “You can drive, Maloney,” Mick said. “It’s about time you pulled your weight.”

  Dale flipped him off and got into the cab to familiarize himself with big Bertha. The other fire officers piled in, and Bertha got underway. Dale drove much slower than Mick, and Tank grumbled at the speed he was driving, but when Dale explained about nearly taking out an old lady on his first day, Tank howled with laughter.

  “I bet that was Ava,” Tank said. “You’d better hope she doesn’t remember you, or you’ll never be allowed to forget it.”

  “She was—very expressive,” Dale said diplomatically.

  “Definitely Ava,” Mick said. “I learned all my swear words as a kid from her.”

  “I guess she had justification. I did nearly flatten her with my car.”

  “Just be careful around these lanes. Nobody goes slowly, and you’d be amazed how many times we get called out to cut people out of cars.” Tank’s usually cheery expression sobered rapidly. “The kids around here are always flipping their cars into the fields.”

  Dale wondered if Tank had lost someone in a car accident, but it was none of his business. Anyway, he had to concentrate on finding somewhere to park near the green. There was a parking space, although it left a very narrow gap for cars to get past.

  “Stay with Bertha in case you have to move her,” Tank said. “We won’t be long.”

  Dale was a little disappointed at not getting a chance to meet the lord of the manor again. Despite their rocky first meeting, the man was very easy on the eye. Thinking about Ben Raleigh occupied Dale, and he jumped when he heard a loud horn. A dustcart trundled down the road toward him. Dale knew the dustcart wouldn’t manage to get by Bertha. He was about to move when Emma rapped on the window.

  “Back her up towards the pole. It doesn’t matter if she goes on the grass.”

  Dale waved at the dustcart to indicate he was going to move and carefully backed up. He was so busy concentrating on not clipping the cars as he maneuvered that he forgot what was behind him. Suddenly, he heard a screeching sound and then a horrible crash.

  Dale leaped out of the engine and rushed around the back, not surprised to see Tank and Keith, plus a handful of others, gathered around a pole. Oh shit! The pole. The bloody maypole. Dale had managed to knock over the maypole covered in blue, white, and red ribbons. It didn’t matter how many times he said it inside his head, the pole was on the ground and they were all staring at him.

  “You…. You….” Lord Calminster took a step forward, his eyes flashing and his fists clenched.

  Dale stepped back, not sure if Lord Calminster was going to take a swing at him or not. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t see the pole.”

  If anything, this seemed to inflame the man even more. “It’s a twelve-foot pole covered in red and blue ribbons. How could you not see it?”

  Good question. Dale had no idea.

  “Fuck me,” Tank muttered. “You’ve done it now. He’s going to kill you.”

  “Can’t we replace the pole? I mean, how often is it used?”

  His lordship stared at him with an icy expression. “This pole has been here for over a hundred years. It was erected by my great-grandfather.”

  Yeah, Dale had fucked up. He got that. Although he was trying not to kill himself laughing at the thought of erecting poles. This was not the time for a sense of humor. Dale was so dead. And possibly unemployed and homeless as well. He glared at the rest of the crew, standing around like useless lumps.

  Then Mrs. Manning rushed over. “Oh my goodness, Mr. Ben, what happened to the maypole? The whole village will be here for the May Day parade. What are the kids going to dance around now?”

  Dale took a deep breath and focused his attention on Lord Calminster, whose expression was now positively thunderous. “I’m sorry, your lordship. This is all my fault. I’ll fix the maypole. It should be fine by the May Day parade. As none of the crew warned me, they can help.” He scowled at Tank, Keith, and Mick.

  “And where are the kids supposed to practice while you do this?” Ben snapped.

  They could wrap the bloody ribbons around his lordship for all Dale cared. He’d apologized and offered a solution; what more did the man want? He snapped his mouth shut before he said what he thought.

  “They could practice around a tree,” Mrs. Manning said hesitantly. “Just until the post is up.”

  Ben’s scowl deepened, but he nodded. “I expect the fire department to be out here tomorrow morning to replace the maypole.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tank’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to tug his forelock. Not that Dale still had any clue what a forelock was, but Tank was all yes, sir, no, sir around Lord Benedict bloody Calminster.

  “Let’s get the business dealt with so you can leave before you do any more damage.” Ben stalked off.

  “You stay here,” Tank said to Dale. “The rest of you, come with me.”

  Dale huffed as they walked off, leaving him alone with Mrs. Manning. He huffed again and then realized he was being a dick, considering he’d just ruined her hard work. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Manning. I promise you everything will be fixed for the parade.”

  She gave him a forced smile. “I know it will, dear. Just make sure it’s done right. Lord Calminster is very particular, and he will be very upset if the pole falls over during the parade.”

  Dale refrained from saying where he’d like to stick the bloody pole and smiled apologetically again. “We’ll do it right. The pole will be there for another hundred years.” He walked over to inspect the wood, lying splintered and bedraggled on the grass. “I think we’d better paint it as well. I don’t think his lordship would appreciate fire-engine red up his nice white pole.” He was sure he heard a snicker from Mrs. Manning, but she didn’t say anything other than agreeing with him. “I don’t know anything about this parade. Do you have a few minutes to tell me about it?”

  He’d obviously said the right thing, because her eyes lit up, and for the next half an hour Mrs. Manning told him the entire history of the May Day celebrations at Calminster Hall. By the end of her speech, Dale’s brain had dribbled out of his ears, but he did know far more about how important the May Day parade was to the village.

  Just as she finished, Tank and the others reappeared, although there was no sign of Lord Calminster. Dale grinned at Tank. “Is his lordship going to put me in the stocks?”

  “Not today, although I ought to warn you he has an entire room filled with instruments of torture, so don’t piss him off again. Pardon me, ma’am.” Tank apologized to Mrs. Manning.

  “That’s quite all right, Tank,” Mrs. Manning said. “He has been known to threaten people who annoy him with the rack.”

  “You’re joking,” Dale said.

  Mrs. Manning shook her head. “Oh no, he really does. I don’t think he’s actually used any of them yet, but there is always a first time.”

  “The next thing you’ll be telling me is that there is a dungeon under the Hall.”

  “Two, actually,” Mrs. Manning said cheerfully.

  Dale shook his head. “I’ll remember that the next time I upset his lordship.”

  “You going for a third time, Maloney? Isn’t accusing him of criminal negligence and damaging his property enough?” Tank pointed to the fallen erection. “We’ve got to be here tomorrow morning at nine to replace the pole. And we have to paint it and repair any other damage around it.”

  “This young man has already said he would paint it,” Mrs. Manning said.

  “He’s also got to arrange for the repairs to the engine,” Tank said. “Fang is going to do his nut when he sees the white paint and the dent.”

  Dale had forgotten all about poor old Bertha. “I wish I hadn’t got up this morning.”

  Keith clapped him on the back.
“Don’t worry, mate. My first week out, I backed into the station commander’s car.”

  “You’re joking?” Dale said.

  Tank shook his head. “Why do you think we don’t let him drive the engine anymore? The station commander was livid. He’d only had the car for a couple of days when Keith decided to flatten it.”

  “At least we can repair the pole. The car was flatter than a pancake. Japanese piece of shit. Sorry, ma’am,” Keith added hastily.

  “Yes, well, I think I ought to be heading back to the village,” Mrs. Manning said. “I’ll see you here tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you going to trust me to drive back?” Dale asked Tank.

  His watch commander smirked. “If you promise to stay away from all stationary objects.”

  “Ha bloody ha. You’re such a funny man.” Dale got into the driver’s seat and waited for everybody else to seat themselves. As he drove carefully down the narrow road, he noticed Lord Calminster standing near the edge of the trees. Dale tightened his hands on the wheel, paranoid that another suicidal pole was going to leap out into his path. In the rearview mirror, Dale could see Lord Calminster staring after them, and he growled under his breath. Not the next meeting he would have wanted with his landlord. At least he knew now to avoid him.

  BACK at the station, Dale had to confess to the station commander about the unfortunate incident with the pole. Fang groaned as Tank described what had happened.

  “In front of Lord Calminster? Jesus, Maloney, do you have a death wish? You do realize that his lordship’s never going to let us forget it?”

  “I know,” Dale said. “I’m sorry, sir. I just didn’t see the pole.”

  “Do you need an eye test, Maloney?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dale said automatically. “I mean, no, sir.”

  Fang rolled his eyes. “How did his lordship take it?”

  Tank chuckled, taking far too much pleasure in Dale’s discomfiture. “We’ve got to go back tomorrow to replace the pole, and then we have to paint it. One side is a lovely shade of fire-engine red.”

  “Let’s inspect poor old Bertha,” Fang said.

  “There’s a small dent and a lot of white paint,” Dale said as he led the way. “It’ll take more than an old pole to damage this girl.”

  “Do you know how much paperwork there’s going to be?” Fang studied the damage to the appliance. “I guess it’s not that bad. It’s not as bad as Keith’s attempt to destroy my car. Still, this is not a good start, Dale.”

  Dale resisted the desire to scuff the floor like a little boy. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll sort the pole out and repaint it out of my own pocket.”

  “Don’t be daft. We’ll do this by the book. Besides, it will give you lot something useful to do tomorrow instead of hanging around the station getting fat.”

  “We’re not fat!” Tank sounded very offended at the thought.

  Fang snorted, and then he turned to Dale, with a resigned expression. “Come on, let’s get the paperwork over and done with.”

  Dale sighed and followed the station commander back into his office. He hated paperwork at the best of times.

  WHEN Dale arrived for his shift the next day, the first thing he noticed was the bright red L-plate on his locker door. He rolled his eyes and opened his locker. He’d expected something of the sort to happen.

  “Red Watch heard about your little accident,” Mick said as he got changed into his uniform. “Don’t expect that to be the last.”

  Dale shrugged his shoulders. “I can take whatever they give out.”

  “Good man. Just let me know if it gets too much. The fuckers can go too far sometimes.”

  As they were on their own, Dale took the opportunity to ask Mick something that had been on his mind. “You guys don’t seem to care that I’m gay.”

  Mick didn’t seem surprised by the question. “White Watch is okay. Stay away from Woody from Red. He’ll give you a lecture on the spread of AIDS. And Dingbat from Blue. Definitely stay away from him. He used to be a Hell’s Angel, then he caught religion.”

  “You don’t like churchgoers?”

  “I don’t really care what you believe in, but Dingbat knocks on doors. He knocked on my door once, asking me to invite Jesus into my life. I invited him and Jesus in for a gay orgy. He’s not spoken to me since.”

  Dale stared at Mick, who winked at him. “You’re joking!”

  “Go and ask him. Tell him you’re gay too. He’ll either quote Bible verses at you or run like hell.”

  “So what’s Woodcote’s problem?”

  Mick sobered up. “His sister died of AIDS. She caught it from an ex-boyfriend who didn’t keep his dick wrapped up. By the time she found out, it was too late. Woody’s never really recovered.”

  “Damn, that’s sad. Poor man.”

  “Yeah, but he ain’t too keen on poofters. His words, not mine,” Mick added hastily.

  Dale sighed, but he said, “Thanks for the warning. I’ll stay away from both of them.”

  “No one else gives a shit, or if they do, they keep it to themselves. The worst you’ll get is this.” He pointed at the L-plate.

  Dale could handle himself, and he wasn’t fussed about a bit of hazing, but he was glad he’d had the chat with Mick. There were another couple of L-plates on Bertha. Conscious of the rest of the watch huddled like a group of naughty schoolboys in the kitchen doorway, Dale removed the plates and stuck them in the cab; then he smirked at the guys.

  “You going to stand there all day?”

  Keith seemed disappointed at Dale’s lack of reaction, but the rest just shrugged and wandered over.

  The first job of the day was repairing the maypole. Dale found himself driving back to Calminster Hall. He had offered to let someone else drive, but Tank told him to shut up and get behind the wheel, although Tank moaned all the way to the village green that Dale drove even slower.

  As Dale pulled up to where the maypole was lying on the ground, he could see Lord Calminster. He had three dogs milling around his feet, a Yorkie and two larger varieties, although Dale didn’t have a clue what breed. He would have liked to say hello to the dogs, but from the way his lordship was glaring at Dale, he decided it was a bad idea.

  “This is going to be a very long day,” Dale muttered.

  “You have no idea,” Tank said. “His lordship is going to stand there and watch us work. He’s a perfectionist.”

  Keith snorted. “You mean he’s an OCD bastard.”

  Dale’s heart sank. “I really hope you’re kidding.”

  “I wish he was,” Tank said. “But he will make sure it’s done to his standards or we’ll have to do it all over again.”

  Dale felt guilty about subjecting them to Lord bloody Calminster, and he said so, but Mick just laughed. “It’s better than the exercise drills the commander had planned, and his lordship’s not that bad. He just likes things being done a certain way.”

  “Come on, then.” Tank jumped down from Bertha’s cab, and everybody else followed him.

  Dale hung back as Tank went to speak to Lord Calminster, who seemed to have a permanent scowl fixed to his face. He reminded Dale of the heroes on his mother’s romance novels—impossibly handsome men with impossibly pretty women attached to their chests. Dale sighed inwardly. He wouldn’t mind having his lordship attached to him, but it would be somewhere south of his navel. Not that that was liable to happen, now that Dale had “destroyed a piece of Calminster Hall’s history.”

  “Okay, guys,” Tank said. “We’re going to dig out a new hole, replace the old pole with that one over there”—he pointed to a large wooden pole on one side—“paint it, fix the ribbons to the pole, and repair the old hole.”

  “I’ll be back later to see how you’re getting on,” Lord Calminster said.

  “Righto,” Tank said cheerfully.

  Dale breathed a sigh of relief when Lord Calminster stalked away without saying anything to him, his dogs hard on his heels. “I’ll dig a hole, as it
was my fault this happened.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Mick said. “It was all our faults. None of us banged on Bertha to stop you. Including his lordship.”

  That was a very good point, Dale thought. They had all watched him demolish a piece of Calminster Hall’s history without a single yell. Nevertheless, he got the spades from Bertha and started digging a hole exactly where Tank pointed. It would be just his luck if he dug the hole in the wrong place. He almost expected his bloody Lordship to return with a tape measure and a spirit level.

  After a couple of hours, Lord Calminster did return with the dogs, carrying two large bags. Instead of a tape measure, he produced bottles of ice-cold water, the condensation running down the sides, and huge sugary jam doughnuts.

  “It’s a hot day for March,” Lord Calminster said as he handed them out, “and I thought you might be thirsty. I know what Tank’s like if he doesn’t get his doughnuts.”

  Everyone gave startled, polite laughs, as if they were amazed he had a sense of humor. Ben offered water and jam doughnuts to everyone, including Dale; then he said, “I’ll take the coffee order now.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Tank said. “We can go across to the tearooms and pick up coffee.”

  Lord Calminster held up his hand. “Call it my thanks for repairing this so quickly.”

  “I’m so sorry for knocking down the pole,” Dale said, speaking to Lord Calminster for the first time since yesterday.

  “Mrs. Manning pointed out to me in no uncertain terms that no one tried to stop you reversing into the pole,” Lord Calminster said. “We all stood there like lemons and watched you.”

  Tank chuckled, saying, “We’ve just had that conversation.”

  Lord Calminster smiled briefly. “Anyway, what would you like, coffee or tea?”

  The dogs sniffed around everyone, obviously in hope of one of them dropping their doughnut, but they were doomed to disappointment. As the other men gave their orders, Dale took the opportunity to give the dogs a rub behind the ears, and when he raised his head, Ben was smiling at him. Dale, who’d cursed Lord Calminster’s name, rank, and serial number as he’d dug out the hole, felt unaccountably warm under Ben’s gaze. He wanted to drown in Lord Calminster’s blue eyes—