The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street

by Rachel Dove

  ‘It’s not dirty, the whole place is spotless really, I just love a bleached sink.’

  Lucy nodded, going to open the window and putting it on the latch.

  ‘Xander’s not so keen on the smell, it bothers him.’ She looked through the window and saw that he was still sitting in the car, Dot now sitting in the passenger seat, book in hand. She waved her away, motioning to her that everything was fine. Lucy waved back.

  ‘Sorry,’ Marlene was saying. ‘We did ask at the library, but they don’t really have any books on the subject. If we do something wrong, let us know love, we want to help.’

  Lucy felt the familiar burn of rage in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘He’s autistic, not stupid or difficult.’

  She spat the words out, looking out of the window at the pretty garden to stop herself from saying anything else. The water started running behind her, and she heard the swish of the cloth as her auntie kept cleaning.

  ‘We know that, dear, but we are trying. The last thing we want is to upset him. We didn’t have it in my day, dear. Well, I’m sure that we did, but we just didn’t know about it like we do now. Us old bids were just trying to be down with the kids.’

  Lucy turned to look at her.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough day.’

  Marlene nodded, pulling off her gloves and placing them on the stainless steel draining board.

  ‘Did you tell him, before you left?’

  Lucy swallowed, thinking of the phone call on the train.

  ‘He went to work early. I spoke to him on the train but it didn’t seem like the right time to tell him. I left a note, at home.’

  She thought of her plush house back home, immaculate as always, the show house of his dreams. She had left everything neat and tidy, including the envelope she left on the kitchen island telling him that she was leaving him, to spend time with her family and think things through.

  ‘Did he really deserve that, Luce?’ Marlene asked. ‘I know that things have been hard, but does he deserve to come home from work to that?’

  ‘He barely comes home at all. I’ll be amazed if he even sees the note.’

  Marlene pursed her lips, but said nothing.

  ‘I put your bags in the master bedroom, so Dot and I will leave you to it. We have yoga at the community centre this afternoon anyway. We put some food in the fridge, but you might want to do some shopping soon. If you need a sitter, let us know.’

  Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She heard the door open behind her, and the waft of lavender filled the kitchen. She could hear the women speaking to Xander, and car doors open and close. She headed to the front door, and watched her little boy carry his belongings into the house. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

  ‘It’s just cleaning smells that’s all. Do you like the house?’

  Xander looked around him at the cosy cream kitchen, the dining room table set for two, fresh pink peonies in a little vase on the table.

  ‘It’s different from home,’ he said, his voice flat. ‘It’s not as shiny.’ Thinking back to her state-of-the-art kitchen, she laughed a little to herself.

  ‘It is; it’s a country look, more wood than shiny surfaces.’

  Xander walked around the space, staying clear of the kitchen sink, and touched the surface of the wooden table.

  ‘I like it. It’s smaller. Can we see my room now?’

  Lucy smiled, pointing to the stairs.

  ‘Lead the way, little man.’

  Xander ran up the stairs, dumping his bag on the table before he went. There were no special hidden cupboards here to stash life away in. She looked at the backpack, and felt a wave of relief rush over her. Maybe, just maybe, this would all turn out for the best.

  ‘Mum, come look!’

  ‘I’m coming!’ she said, kicking off her shoes and racing up the stairs.

  It was late by the time Sam had eventually said goodbye to the lads at the fire station. As soon as he had walked through the door, the thought of the woman on the train fresh in his head, he had been dragged in and made to feel welcome. Chief Briggs was a burly man, his moustache the only tiny thing about him, a whisper of a thick bristle seemingly stencilled on his broad face.

  Being lunchtime, the men were all sitting at the large scratched wood table, chatting and laughing away. Norman was at the stove, dishing out plates of hot chilli on baked potatoes. Sam’s stomach gurgled.

  ‘Come on in,’ Danesh said, pointing to a clear space at the table. ‘You eat meat, right?’

  Alan patted him hard on the back.

  ‘A man this size? Of course he does!’

  ‘Er, actually no, I don’t. Not much anyway. More chicken, eggs. I tend to stay away from red meat.’

  He waited for the usual explosion of what? why? how? but none came.

  Alan shrugged. ‘Ah well, more for me, Dan!’ He took a seat at the head of the table, and Danesh placed a steaming plate in front of him. Danesh returned to the cooker, taking the lid off a different pot.

  ‘Here’s yours.’ He spooned some chilli onto a huge baked potato. ‘Meat free chilli, Norm’s spesh. It’s pretty good, but hold judgement till you’ve had it three times in one week.’ Norman jabbed him in the side, and he laughed.

  ‘Cheeky bugger, you love my cooking!’

  Danesh groaned. ‘Love, really? It’s a strong word, Norm.’

  Norman flicked his tea towel at Danesh as he headed to the table, putting a plate in front of Sam.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully, and Danesh sat down next to him.

  ‘So,’ Norman called, turning off the heat on the stove and coming to sit down. ‘What made you come up here from London?’

  Sam took a bite of his food and his whole body embraced the flavour. Proper food for once.

  ‘Nice,’ he said to Norman, pointing to his plate. ‘I came for the job really, a change of pace.’

  Danesh guffawed, slicing his potato up into smaller pieces.

  ‘Well, you’ll get that here, we don’t get much action. You must have seen some things in your time.’

  Sam thought of the call-outs he had had recently, back home, and nodded slowly.

  ‘A few, yes. What have you got on today?’

  ‘We have the rigs to clean out, and the general station maintenance. We need to get things ready for the summer crowds, and the holiday lets will all need checking over. We do things differently up here, Sam, as you might have gathered from your shifts.’

  Sam nodded once, not feeling the need to answer any further. He knew what the job was, and it suited him just fine, for now at least.

  ‘Agatha’s on the warpath again too; she’s coming down later. Something about the Langthwaite Farm and a bull.’

  Norman groaned. ‘Christ, can’t she just call Ben at the veterinary surgery and get him on the case? The poor lad is obviously just trying to get his leg over; Old Man Langthwaite just needs to set him to work.’

  Alan shook his head. ‘Reg has been showing him to the females, but the bull is just not interested. It keeps jumping the fences to get onto Agatha’s land. I think he fancies Archie’s new cow.’

  ‘Wow,’ Danesh quipped. ‘Quite the dairy disaster, eh?’

  Alan gave him a look that could curdle milk. ‘Anyway, we’ll have to speak to Agatha, she’ll not rest till she gets her way.’ Sam finished his food, feeling very intrigued as to what kind of woman Agatha was that she could get a fire station full of burly blokes quaking into their safety boots.

  Sam had hung around for the rest of the shift, filling in his paperwork, picking out a bunk and helping out where he could. Or where Alan would let him at least.

  Chapter 5

  Lucy woke up with a sharp pain in her back, like someone was trying to poke something through her spinal column. Wincing, she rolled over to her side, reaching behind her to move whatever piece of office crap Iain had left on the bed. Opening her eyes, she froze. She wasn’t in her bed, or at home. The events from
the day before came screaming back to her in a flurry, making her groan loudly and fall back on to her bed. The sharp object stabbed her again, making her jump up to a sitting position, bolt upright.

  ‘Muuummm!’ Xander moaned behind her. ‘You crushed Bobba Fett!’ He pushed her arm away, reaching under her to pull out his beloved toy. ‘Grrr!’

  He growled loudly, a sure sign that he was both upset and angry. He used to do it all the time as a toddler, unable at the time to verbalise his feelings. She felt a wave of nostalgia so strong that she half expected to see a toddler staring back at her when she looked back.

  ‘Sorry, poppet,’ she said softly, holding her hands out palms up. Xander eyed her warily, looking from her face to the toy with its now separate arm.

  ‘Be careful, Mummy,’ he said, giving her a final glare before placing the pieces into her waiting hands. She grinned at him, blowing an errant strand of light brown hair out of her eye line.

  ‘I think you know by now, my darling son, that I—’ she put the arm back on with ease, making Bobba wave at him ‘—am a master builder.’

  Xander pressed his cute little lips together tight, but she could see he was dying to laugh.

  ‘All fixed!’ She grabbed him, pulling him closer to her. ‘Cuddle for Mummy!’ He squealed, grabbing Bobba tight to his chest, before turning and setting him down on the bedside table.

  ‘Cuddle fort?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  ‘Cuddle fort it is!’ She pulled him close, his little PJs smelling of the fabric softener she washed his clothes in. He snuggled tight into her, his nose inches from hers. She covered the quilt over them both, stacking the pillows to make a tent of sorts. He nestled closer to her, and she held him tight.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked, looking into the eyes that were so like her own – a bright blue that made his dark, thick lashes all the more striking against his pale skin. Marlene had them too.

  ‘Yep, my room’s nice. It’s empty, I like it like that. I need my Lego from home though, I don’t have enough. Will Dad bring it?’

  Lucy winced, thinking of home. Iain would have noticed they were missing by now. He was due to have his golf weekend, but he wasn’t leaving till that night. She wondered if he would still go. Would he have called Marlene? She knew her aunt wouldn’t lie to him, it wasn’t in her nature.

  ‘Well, you remember I said we were coming here for the holidays, and we made that holiday scrapbook to bring? That means we won’t be going home for a while yet. We have to leave what we didn’t bring at home, till we need it.’

  ‘I need it now,’ he whined. ‘I need more Lego! I can’t do nothing, my brain won’t let me.’

  Her mouth curled up at one side, a slight grin showing. She ruffled his hair gently, and touched her nose to his. He let her, and stared right at her, just as she had taught him.

  ‘We will have a lovely summer here, and have lots of things to do and see … your brain won’t have to be doing nothing. I’ll tell you what, you pick some Lego from Mummy’s phone, and when it arrives, we can build it together.’

  ‘Will Daddy bring it?’

  ‘We’ll get it delivered to our cottage, but we might even see something in town. We are going exploring today, remember, from the calendar?’

  Before they had left, she had bought a calendar for the wall, and gone through with Xander the dates and plans that she knew they had, to prepare him. Many days were blanks, and she feared these days more than the ones with her loopy handwriting filling the squares. These were the days where she would feel lost, guilty with a dash of panic. Xander feared them too, the difference to his routine being so huge already. They both had a mistrust of the unknown, but here they were, together. She had a flash of memory. Xander, standing by the pool, screaming. Iain standing over him, shouting and demanding. Holiday-makers, openly gawping at the resort’s prize exhibit. She pushed the thought away, willing it to dispel from her brain, riding the bolt of ice water she felt zipping down her spine. This would be a better holiday. It had to be.

  ‘Breakfast first though, Mummy,’ Xander checked.

  ‘Yes, my darling. Breakfast. I think holiday pancakes are in order.’

  Xander’s nose scrunched up. ‘Ordered from who?’

  Marlene bustled into A New Lease of Life and flopped down on the chair that Grace had her leg on, shunting it to one side.

  ‘Hey, my knee hurts you know!’

  Marlene shot her a look. ‘Don’t moan, woman, it never stopped you doing samba last night, did it? Thrusting your hips at a man half your age, I ask you, where’s the dignit—arrgghh!’

  She rubbed her left bottom cheek as Grace stuck her tongue out at her, her needle flicking back to her work after a successful stabbing. Marlene narrowed her eyes, looking around her quickly before opening her mouth.

  ‘You do that again, woman, and I’ll tell everyone about you and Ted Wilson, you see if I don’t.’

  Grace jumped forward, horror etched on her face.

  ‘You promised!’ She hissed. ‘Since 1974 you have held that over me, you buzzard!’

  ‘Buzzard?’ Marlene frowned, before realisation set in. Followed by anger. ‘You mean vulture, you bloody wizened old crow!’

  Grace jabbed her wool-free knitting needle out in front of her menacingly.

  ‘Crow! Crow? I’ll stab you in the throat, you blackmailing witch!’

  ‘Ladies, ladies, please!’ Amanda, owner of the shop, and proud host of the Westfield Craft Club, pushed the two ladies gently back into their seats, prising Grace’s needle from her white knuckles and placing it behind the counter. ‘You can have this back when you stop trying to attempt ABH, okay?’

  Grace opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it. Instead she mouthed ‘you’re dead’ at Marlene, who ignored her.

  ‘How are you, Marlene?’ Amanda asked, putting a tray of tea together, and arranging some biscuits on a plate. ‘Did you get the brandy snaps for Agatha?’

  Marlene reached into her bag, producing a posh-looking pack.

  ‘Yep, although why she can’t just eat Malted Milk like the rest of us is anyone’s guess.’

  The door opened, the tinkle of the bell heralding someone’s arrival.

  ‘Guess what?’ Dot said, striding in with her bags. ‘It is rather glorious out there today, I had a lovely long walk here. I’m at 6,000 steps already!’ She waggled her wrist at them all, her red fitness band’s screen lit up.

  ‘Agatha’s posh biscuit demands, that’s guess what. Six thousand is nothing, I’ve smashed my target.’

  Dot looked at Grace suspiciously. ‘How did you beat me? You came in the car, didn’t you?’ She looked outside the shop, at Baker Street, where Grace’s car was parked near the pavement. Marlene, still incensed at the stabbing incident, joined in.

  ‘Yes, Grace, how did you do that?’

  Grace pushed her remaining needle into her wool ball, and dropped it into her bag.

  ‘I just did, I’m a very busy woman.’

  The two women’s gazes centred in on her wrists. Amanda started laughing, setting down the tea tray on the table in front of them and heading back to her workstation. She was used to these ladies coming into her business and taking over. Today was an average day. Quiet even. Dot suddenly inhaled sharply, pointing excitedly.

  ‘It’s on your dominant knitting arm! You bloody well cheated! Stitches are not steps, Grace!’

  Grace poured a china cup full of tea, the smell filling the shop with a homely aroma.

  ‘Tell that to the app. I bet I’ll win weekday warrior this week.’

  Dot, who always won the weekday warrior challenge, was furious. ‘By cheating and sitting on your fat arse, yeah!’

  The ladies all spoke to each other at once, the decibels increasing as they tried to get their points across, shouting to be heard over each other. Their cacophony of noise drowned out the shop bell.

  ‘You can’t win every week, it’s not fair on the rest of us!’

  ‘
It’s a competition, Grace, you don’t just get to win for nothing because it’s your turn! I walk every inch of this village, so if I win, I win on merit!’

  ‘Er, hello?’ A quiet voice could be heard, but only Amanda looked at the shop doorway.

  ‘You always did have to win, didn’t you? You were always the same, even when we worked together.’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Oh here we go!’

  “Yeah, let her have it!”

  ‘Hi,’ Amanda said finally, moving through the shop and reaching out her hand. Lucy stepped forward, Xander gripping her other arm, and shook Amanda’s hand. ‘Ignore the ladies here, they will settle down soon.’ She turned to Xander, leaning forward, hands on her knees to get on the same level. ‘And hello, young sir. May I interest you in some cake, and a glass of juice?’

  His eyes opened wide at the mention of cake. Cake was one of Xander’s horcruxes. Cake, Lego and superheroes. Not necessarily in that order. The boy was obsessed, and his obsessions were all-consuming at times. Lucy still knew all the names of the dinosaurs from the Cretaceous period, including half of the Latin ones, from having picked them up over the years, when his dino love was in full flow. She could go on Mastermind with that specialist subject, and feel completely at ease. Xander had learned all there was to know about the subject, and then moved on. Now it was all superheroes and Lego. Which was a real hardship to Lucy. Really, she did suffer. It was cruel really, this parenting lark. From learning about extinct scaly creatures to having to watch every superhero franchise movie, complete with half-naked sex gods? Parenting was indeed very tricky sometimes, but she did grin and bear it. Especially when poor Thor lost his long hair. That was terrible. She didn’t get any cleaning done that day, that’s for sure.

  Amanda leaned in a little further, as though she was sharing a secret.

  ‘Come with me to the counter, and I’ll cut you the biggest piece.’

  Xander nodded slowly, a happy smile crossing his features, and Lucy watched as he let go of her hand and trotted along behind the lady. He really was anybody’s for a slice of cake. She pushed down the mild thought of terror that sprang to her throat when she thought about that simple truth, and shook herself out of it. The ladies were all still sniping at each other, Grace mumbling something about a needle weapon, so she walked forward and sat down in an empty wooden chair next to her aunt.