The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street

by Rachel Dove

  ‘My mother gave it to me. My real mother I mean. She left it with me, the day I was … the day I met my foster mother. I was only a baby, so I have no memories. It’s why I’m here.’

  She read the pretty cursive writing, taking in the words. As a mother herself, she could only imagine what the writer was feeling when she wrote these words, how torn and broken she must have felt. Someone would have to prise Xander from her cold, dead hands before she let him go. Iain included. She felt the familiar frisson of fear bubble in her stomach and squashed it down. This wasn’t about her, or her son. She read it again, taking in every word. Sam, as ever, was quiet and calm. For such a big guy, he was a real oasis of tranquillity. She felt it every time she was around him, and she knew that Xander felt it too.

  ‘You’re here to find your family?’ she asked gently. ‘Your father, too?’

  ‘Do you think I’m mad?’ he asked genuinely, and her heart went out to him.

  ‘No, I don’t at all. I think it’s great. Is that why you took the job?’

  He nodded, taking the letter back from her and tucking it carefully back into his pocket.

  ‘That’s the plan, but now I’m here, it just seems like a bit of a bad idea. I knew I came from Westfield, but I didn’t have this letter till I’d already decided to move here. My mother kept it till I was ready, I guess. The woman is never wrong usually, but I’m still no closer really.’

  ‘You’re trying to find your family, that’s never easy. Can’t social services help?’

  Sam shook his head. ‘I didn’t go through the system too much. My mother, Sondra I mean, my foster mother, I went to her on day one—’

  ‘And she never let you go,’ Lucy finished. ‘She sounds like my kinda mum.’

  Sam’s eyes wrinkled with warmth as he smiled at her. ‘Yep, you are similar in some ways.’ They both looked at each other, happy to be in each other’s company. Both comforted by the other, and the privilege of finding someone to talk to about their problems and fears.

  ‘Everyone’s so nice here, it’s more complicated than I thought it was going to be. I don’t want to stride in with my big size twelves and stir up fresh pain and trouble for everyone. Who even knows what they’ll think when I tell them.’

  He drained his glass, sinking back into the overstuffed comfy sofa.

  ‘I’ve managed without knowing my whole life, but now, I don’t know. Mum’s not going to be around forever, despite what she says, and I guess I just want some answers. To be able to fill in a form without coming out in a cold sweat. I’m fit and healthy, I got genetically tested, so that’s not it. I guess I just want to know where I came from. One day, I might be a father too. I would like to sort this out before I think about the next step. I need to sort out my past before I try to make a future.’

  Lucy’s mind tingled at his words. It’s just why she was here too. Why she had packed up her only child and headed for the hills. She wanted space to breathe, to separate the pieces of her broken life, to find out what she could salvage. What she wanted to let go, and what she could repair.

  ‘Are you working tomorrow?’ she asked, a plan forming in her head.

  Intrigued, Sam cocked his head to one side. The movement reminded her of her son, when he was trying to decipher something, or someone. They were similar in a lot of ways, though they had no reason to be. Perhaps it was just their quiet looks, the way they both sized things up.

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I want to help you. I need a project for the summer. I’ll help you find your family, if you want me to. I know people here, and Aunt Marlene has lived here all her life.’ He flashed her an uncharacteristic look of panic. ‘I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise.’ She leaned into him a little. ‘Let me help, please?’

  He searched her face for what seemed like a long time, his face neutral, a blank canvas. She couldn’t decipher what was going through the gentle giant’s big bald head. Another eternity passed till he spoke.

  ‘Okay, thank you. Not to lead you astray, but …’ He looked at her devilishly, waggling his eyebrows. Lucy’s thoughts bounced immediately back to the tickets, and she could almost hear ‘Pony’ in her head. Bop … bop … bop bop bop … bop … bop bop …

  ‘Yes?’ she said, imagining what he would look like in his fireman’s uniform. And out of it.

  ‘… shall we open another bottle? I told Xander I would finish this tricky bit for him, but my fingers aren’t as dainty as yours. I could use the womanpower.’

  The pony galloped off, leaving a deflated wah wah wah wahhhhhh sound in its wake.

  ‘Sure,’ she said as cheerily as she could. ‘I’ll go get it.’

  Chapter 9

  ‘Muuuummmmmm! It’s eight o’clock, we should be having breakfast now! Muuuuummmmmmm!’

  Lucy shook from side to side as Xander, clad in character pyjamas, straddled his mother’s hip, pulling on her nightshirt. She felt rough, and she could taste the remnants from the wine on her tongue as she tried in vain to lick her lips. Wow, she wasn’t drunk last night, but she was definitely not used to late nights drinking wine and talking with a man. She and Iain hadn’t done it in years. Done anything like that, truth be told, not since Xander was born. IT was a bit of an abstract concept, like skydiving. It was out there, it was exciting, people did it every day, but it just wasn’t part of her life. In fact, the rocking she was currently experiencing was the closest her body had been to that kind of movement in far too long a while. Xander added salt to the wound by jumping to her side, kneeling on her boob and pinning it to the mattress in one smooth movement.

  ‘Ouch, Xander, be careful, honey.’ She pushed him gently aside, cradling her bruised mammary to her chest and pulling herself up. ‘I’m up, I’m up.’

  She dragged herself out of bed, half rolling, half falling, till she managed to arrive in an upright position. Her head pulsated a little, and she was filled with a sudden sense of horror. The horror that only occurred when alcohol was consumed with someone else, or out in public. This was the time where people reached for their phones, checking Insta stories for drunken singing, ill-timed declarations of love, or just plain idiocy. #spiralling. She thought back to the night before, but nothing sprang to mind. She remembered going to bed, she was wearing actual night clothes, and her clothes from the night before had been folded and laid on the chair. All signs of adulthood, not drunken debauchery. Good start, aside from the Sahara Desert impression her tongue was auditioning for and the tiny little drummer man that was pounding out a fine tune in her head. Heading downstairs, half dragged by Xander who was excitedly talking about the blueberry pancakes she had promised him the night before, they hadn’t reached the lower level before there was an insistent knock at the front door.

  Xander wasn’t interested, he totally ignored the door and headed straight to the kitchen to get everything out. It was past eight o’clock, so unless Dwayne Johnson was at the door, nothing would put her son off eating his already late breakfast. Even IF Dwayne swooped into Westfield, the pancakes would still be a necessity. Being here, uprooted from his life, the school he didn’t fit into, Xander had coped. A lot better than Lucy thought he would, and she was so grateful. Routine was routine though, and Xander’s belly liked a tight schedule. The knock came again, and groaning at the pain it produced in her frontal lobe, she wiped the remnants of sleep out of her eyes and opened the door, her breath held captive by her sense of impending doom. Who was at the door? At this point in the morning, it would be easier just to go back to bed, ignore the day entirely. Her heart pounded at the thought of Iain being at the other side of the door. Could it be Sam, about last night? Did she make a dick of herself? Was he mad? She felt the sense of panic flowing through her wine-clogged veins and a frisson of something else. Excitement? A flutter of romance? God knows. It was probably just the faint urge to go vomit everywhere and lie with her head stuffed under a pillow.

  Pulling open the pretty painted wooden door, she saw Marlene stood there, shoppin
g bags in hand. Her mildly irritated look turned to horror when she took in the sight of her niece, crumpled nightwear hanging off her frame, hair puffed out at all angles. She bustled in the door, looking behind Lucy and hurriedly closing and locking the door behind her.

  ‘Not here, is he?’ she asked, one hand still on the key. ‘Iain, I mean.’

  Lucy slowly shook her head, surprised by the question.

  ‘No, he’s not here. How did you—’

  ‘I was told a flash git in a poncey car was by the cottages. I cracked the code pretty quickly.’ She checked the lock and then pushed through to the kitchen, putting the bags on the counter and kissing Xander on the top of his head. He was sitting at the table, playing with some figures. All the pancake-making apparatus had been laid out neatly on the worktop, a frying pan placed onto the cold hob.

  ‘Good morning, my little darling. Pancakes, is it? Want me to make them while your mother gets a shower?’

  Xander nodded, beaming at his great auntie. Anything to get pancakes quicker.

  ‘Mum drank wine last night with Sam, I think she got drunk. My breakfast is at eight o’clock, but she was snoring in bed, and I’m starving!’ He pointed at the kitchen clock on the wall to punctuate his point, and the whole thing came out in one breath. ‘I have been dreaming of blueberry pancakes all night,’ he added dramatically, throwing a deep sigh in for effect. Marlene laughed.

  ‘Sounds like a fraught morning. Blueberry pancakes coming right up.’

  Lucy started to tiptoe to the stairs, the thought of the hot shower a welcome incentive to launch an escape bid. She was just at the bottom of the stairs when she heard the trill of Marlene as she got to cooking.

  ‘Enjoy your shower, Lucy darling, I’ll have the coffee ready when you come down, we can have a nice little chat. Take your time, dear. Run a comb through your hair too, while you’re at it.’

  Her voice was easy, sing-song light, but Lucy knew her aunt well enough to know that she was in for a grilling when she got downstairs again. Sighing, she started to climb the stairs, hugging the banister for comfort.

  ‘Throw in a bacon sandwich from the stuff in those bags, and you have a deal.’

  Marlene chuckled to herself and Lucy went to dunk her head under the hot water. With a bit of luck, it would prepare her for the onslaught she would face over breakfast. At this point, she would rather be waterboarded than deal with the Auntie Interrogation.

  ‘So she was drunk? Was Xander okay?’

  Marlene shook her head, stirring her tea with a little silver spoon and resting it on her saucer. They were in their usual seats in New Lease of Life, their various craft projects spread out in front of them. As ever, Grace was knitting furiously, looking intently at Marlene for an answer.

  ‘She wasn’t drunk, Lucy’s a great mum. Xander was fine. The poor girl runs her life around that boy, she overslept by fifteen minutes, that’s all. That’s not the point anyway! The point is, Iain won’t just leave things like that now. If he made the effort to come and find her, he won’t stop till he makes her feel guilty for not being on his arm or ironing his shirts, and she’ll go back. I don’t want them to go back, not yet, and especially not now.’

  Dot, tucking into a salmon pinwheel, nodded.

  ‘I agree, she came here for a reason, and she needs this time. We can have a great summer with them and she needs time to see the wood through the trees.’

  Marlene leaned forward, picking up her tapestry and eyeing her fellow coven members. ‘Speaking of wood, you haven’t heard the best bit. Just you wait.’

  Amanda, owner of the shop, finished serving her customer and came over to the ladies.

  ‘Agatha holding up your gossip session again? Where is she?’

  Grace smiled at her. ‘She’s on a new health kick. She and Taylor walk the dogs twice a day now, and she’s always up the community centre, taking the fitness classes. Her knee started twinging, so she thinks she’s at death’s door. You ought to see her, she dresses like Hyacinth Bucket, it’s hilarious.’

  ‘It’s Taylor I feel sorry for, the poor bugger. Those dog walks were the only bits of peace he got, and now she’s in his ear all the time. Even the dogs are missing the break.’

  Amanda swatted at her playfully. ‘Give over, it’s good that she’s getting exercise. I love the classes myself. Taylor’s happy enough.’

  Marlene grabbed a mini sausage roll and chomped on it. ‘Well, I don’t care if she’s doing ruddy Strictly Come Dancing, she needs to start respecting the schedule!’

  ‘Who does?’ Agatha said, bounding through the door in tight lilac yoga pants, pink floral trainers and a t-shirt that said ‘One Just Does It’. ‘What schedule?’

  ‘Who the hell dressed you this morning?’ Grace asked, laughing so much she snorted. ‘Where do you think you are? L.A., with the other gym bunnies?’

  Agatha, her hair immaculately curled and set on her head like the Queen, looked down at herself in confusion. ‘What do you mean? Taylor took me shopping. The assistant told us this was the in thing, and Taylor had the t-shirt made.’

  Amanda guffawed and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Well,’ she said, trying and failing not to laugh in between words, ‘you look amazing! Marlene is just itching to tell us some news.’

  Agatha sat down, primly folding her legs and setting her handbag by her feet. She looked down at her t-shirt, straightening an imaginary crease and sticking her bottom lip out, miffed.

  ‘I’m all ears, sorry I was late.’

  ‘All ears?’ Grace quipped. ‘All legs as well. Your camel toe is showing.’

  Agatha shook her head, her response almost regal it was so refined. ‘I don’t think so, darling, I’m very anti-fur these days. Even the mink coat has been disposed of.’

  Amanda burst into laughter again, heading to the back room.

  ‘Right.’ Marlene banged on the table. ‘So now that’s over—’ she shuddered inwardly ‘—we have to talk. Remember when we helped Ben and Amanda get together?’

  Amanda hadn’t always lived in Westfield, and in fact hailed from London, where she shed her high-flying job in a law firm to set up her own craft and upcycling shop. At the time, Ben, village vet and now husband of Amanda, hadn’t been that keen, and the ladies had decided a little meddling was in order. Headed by Agatha of course, with Taylor and the ladies along for the ride.

  Dot clapped her hands together. ‘Remember? Of course I do, it was such fun!’ Her smile dimmed. ‘I don’t know though; Amanda and Ben just needed a well-meaning shove. Iain and Lucy have real issues, and Xander? We might do more harm tha—’

  ‘No! Not them two! Sam! I mean Sam.’

  ‘Fireman Sam?’ Agatha checked. ‘He is a lovely man, and so very tall.’ She tapped her fingers against her temple. “He does remind me of someone, but I just can’t fathom it out as yet.”

  ‘Hot,’ Grace said, stroking the jumper sleeve she was knitting as though Sam was actually wearing it. ‘The word you are looking for is hot. You don’t need to fathom that. The man is a cool, tall drink of water. Who’s the lucky lady?’

  She jabbed at herself with her index finger, making Dot giggle.

  ‘Lucy,’ Marlene declared. ‘Lucy and Sam. They spent the night together last night, drinking wine. Xander told me. I think we should get them together.’

  Agatha poured herself a cup of tea, her lips pursed. ‘To what end?’

  ‘What do you mean to what end, to make them both happy!’

  Dot joined in, crossing her hands together as she did when she was nervous.

  ‘I don’t know either. We don’t know this guy; he could be a lothario, and what about Iain? Amanda and Ben were both single, and we knew Ben already. It’s different, there’s a child involved, and a marriage.

  ‘Do we know where his family hail from?’ Agatha asked, but her question was lost in the hubbub. ‘I know he’s from London, but has he always been there?’ Another question to slip by unnoticed.

  Marlene bit the
inside of her lip. ‘I know my girl, and if my sister were here to help her daughter, she would. The poor girl is so used to being with that man that she doesn’t know which way the sun rises any more, and with Xander … I think she might end up going home just for him, and I know they’re not happy. Iain’s not a bad man, but he’s not a great one either. Sam is all on his own here, why not try to make some people connect?’

  Grace was the first to get onboard.

  ‘I like him. I’m in. We need a bit of fun around here.’

  She eyed Agatha, who was the mother hen of the group, and was rewarded with a cheeky wink.

  ‘We need a plan, and I would like to get to know both of them a bit more before we start, but why not?’ Agatha wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, after all.

  Dot, still anxious, shook her head.

  ‘I don’t know, matchmaking people can be very dangerous. If it goes wrong …’

  Amanda, having come to listen to their conversation, laughed.

  ‘Dangerous is right! Which poor sap are you inflicting your meddling ways on now?’

  Grace, back to her knitting, tittered. ‘You didn’t do too bad when we meddled in your life, did you? Husband and a beautiful baby? Are you saying we can’t do it again?’

  Amanda rolled her eyes, knowing better. ‘Not a chance. Once you lot get your teeth into the poor buggers, they’ll be no stopping you. I’d better go buy a hat.’ She looked around the shop, an idea forming in her head. ‘In fact, I’ll stock them in the shop. A home-grown wedding always means good business.’ She slapped her hands together. ‘I’ll leave you ladies to it, eh? I have some work to do!’

  She practically bounced to the back room, the spring in her step punctuating her departure.

  Marlene took a notepad and pen out of her handbag, turned to a clear page and wrote ‘Sam’ as a title.