by Cassie Hamer
Alex lifted her head, and James rose from the step. Both of them went to the door. Outside, two fire trucks were rolling up at Cara’s door and disgorging what looked like an army of firefighters.
‘You go and make sure Cara and Poppy are okay. I’ll stay with Jas,’ Alex ordered, suddenly very wide awake.
Without a word, James sprinted down the path. The firemen were pulling out hoses and putting on masks. Alex covered her mouth. What the hell was going on over there? Were Cara and Poppy okay? More and more of the neighbours filtered out onto the street, bleary-eyed. A few dressing gowns. Baggy boxer shorts. Charlie Devine in a plain white silk slip, holding tight to Talia at the end of their driveway.
The firefighters made them all stand back.
Inside, Alex paced up and down.
Please let Cara and Poppy be okay.
She pushed her face to the window. There were no flames. She squinted. But there, over the back. A small plume of smoke coming from the shed. Her insides twisted in knots.
Please let them be okay.
Less than a minute ago, she’d been so caught up in herself and her own future, worrying, like her job was the be-all and end-all. Now, here she was, just hoping like hell that her neighbours were still alive and unharmed. How was it that the big stuff of life – the conceiving of it, and the ending of it – happened in less than the blink of an eye, whereas the mundane things – the work, the cleaning, the shopping, the just plain living – were what took up all the time and brain space. But what did it really matter, unless you were alive for it?
Life and the people in it, that’s what counted.
Alex felt a stabbing pain in her gut.
Oh shit, not the baby too …
Gently, she rubbed her stomach and tried to think calming thoughts. Maybe it was stress triggering the cramps?
Eyes closed, she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.
As James rushed back through the door, Alex’s eyes flew open.
‘Where are Cara and Poppy? Are they okay?’
Breathing heavily, James clutched her arm. ‘They’re fine. There was a fire in the shed, but the brigade got to it pretty quickly. It’s all fine.’
Alex felt the adrenaline leaving her body, like a withdrawing tide, leaving her with nothing but a blinking emptiness. She slumped to the couch, close to where Jasper was still snoring softly, oblivious to the entire drama.
James sat next to her. ‘You know, maybe you’re right. He might just be okay for school tomorrow.’ He stroked Jasper’s leg. ‘I think we’re through the worst of it.’
‘I hope so.’ Alex looked at her peaceful son, the blue and red lights of the fire brigade flashing off his pale skin. ‘Maybe,’ she murmured.
ThePrimalGuy.com.au
From: The Primal Guy
Subject: Burn baby Burn
Hey Prime-Mates,
Switch your brains on, dudes! I’ve got a question for you.
What’s the most important thing ever invented in this world? The thing that contributed most to human evolution?
Now, I know most of you will say ‘the wheel’, right? But dude, you are wrongity wrong wrong wrong.
It’s fire.
Okay, so I know that humans didn’t actually invent fire, but we did have to work out ways of creating and controlling it, which we did, about 600,000 years ago. Man, it was a total game changer. Suddenly, the primitive dudes had a way of keeping warm, they could move to colder places, cook food, make better tools, defend themselves, hunt for animals.
This stuff was the bomb. It still is.
From a little tacker, I’ve always been crazy-obsessed by fire, probably from the minute my oldies put a birthday candle in front of my face and I tried to eat it.
Fire can be friend and foe. It can be an end or a beginning. Hope or despair. All depends how you see it.
But I’ll tell you one thing for free. It’s never boring.
Peace out,
Ryan Devine (AKA the Primal Guy)
PS You want a little home-grown fire? Check out the online shop for my soil-scented soy candles. Seriously, it’s like sitting round a campfire. Just use the promo code BURNBABYBURN.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Cara scrubbed at the soot marks above the stove. It could have been worse. It definitely could have been worse. It was lucky she had a functioning smoke alarm, the fire brigade told her, or the shed most certainly would have gone up in flames in a matter of minutes. Cara shivered.
How could she have been so stupid?
The firefighters told her they saw it all the time. People who walked away from their stoves and left a wooden spoon just a tad too close to the heat. That’s what had happened in this case, given the charred state of the spoon next to the camp stove. When they told her that, Cara had apologised profusely.
‘I think I just panicked,’ she explained.
After the smoke alarm pierced her sleep and she saw the shed starting to smoulder, she’d reached immediately for her phone and dialled triple zero. The lady at the end of the telephone was very kind and very calm. She asked if anyone was in danger, then told Cara to wait outside the shed until the brigade arrived. Opening the door could introduce oxygen that would only fan the flames.
And so she waited for what felt like hours but, in reality, was simply the longest five minutes of her life. When the firefighters went through the door she expected to see the entire interior of the shed ablaze. In fact, the flames were no bigger than a foot high, much like a camp fire, and it took one firefighter all of two minutes to put it out with a hand-held extinguisher.
Poppy slept through the whole thing.
Everyone in the street had been so kind, so concerned, offering her cups of tea and warm blankets.
Thinking back on it now, Cara flushed.
How could she have left the stove on?
She ran through what she remembered. They’d partially prepared the risotto for the launch party in the shed, then Cara had taken it to Beth’s to finish in her kitchen. At the end of the night, they’d cleaned and tidied and Cara had put Poppy to bed, before returning her equipment to the shed.
How had she not noticed the gas flame then? Much less the spoon?
Exhaustion was her only answer. Pure exhaustion. With Nourish starting to take flight, she was burning the candle at both ends.
More like burning the spoon, she thought gloomily.
Fortunately, the damage was relatively minimal, mostly caused by the smoke. She’d need to re-paint, but she could simply add that to the long list of jobs that needed to get done around the house. The shed was still useable, provided she got rid of the awful smell. One firefighter had kindly suggested vinegar, and keeping the doors open for a couple of days.
Cara went back to scrubbing.
She’d been on such a high after the tasting party. An exhausted high. But still, it had gone incredibly well. The neighbours had raved about the food and several of them had placed orders. Will was going to ask his siblings not to sell. It gave her hope.
But the fire was a reality check.
Things, bad things, happened when you least expected them.
Knock, knock.
Cara startled and dropped the scrubbing brush.
‘Sorry, Cara.’ Talia stood at the doorway. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘It’s fine. Come in.’
The teenager stepped inside the shed and wrinkled her nose. ‘I thought you might like some help.’
‘Aren’t you lovely.’ Cara picked up a second brush and handed it over. ‘I won’t say no.’ She’d spent most of the day cleaning. Poppy had helped a little after school but her incessant complaints about the smell outweighed the value of her assistance. Cara had despatched her back to the house to do homework.
Talia took the brush and started scrubbing. ‘Something similar happened to us once. Mum had been cooking, and she went to sleep without remembering to turn the gas off. Luckily my dad found it in time, so it wasn
’t too bad. He’s good with stuff like that.’
‘You must miss him.’
‘Like crazy.’ She went on quickly. ‘He’ll be here soon, I think. And I love my mum, too. She and I are just … different.’
Cara looked at the younger girl, scrubbing intently. ‘I can see that.’
‘She’s a good person, but she’s tough. Big on rules and sticking to them.’
Cara resumed her focus on the sooty wall. ‘It’s hard being a mum. Sometimes, you feel like it’s this big test and unless you do things a certain way, you’re going to fail it. Or fail your children.’
Cara felt Talia’s eyes on her. ‘But really, all you have to do is love them, right? Try to make them happy.’
‘And feed them, and clothe them, and make sure they get to school, and do their homework, and brush their teeth.’ Cara laughed. ‘It’s not as easy as it looks.’
‘Mum’s always working on the Primal stuff. I wish she was more like you. You spend lots of time with Poppy. I’ve seen you. All that painting and craft stuff.’
‘It’s only because I can, and I’ve got the time,’ sighed Cara. ‘But with this business starting to take off I seem to have less and less.’
‘So it’s going well?’ Talia dipped her brush in the sink to clean off the cinders.
‘It’s going really well. Better than I imagined.’
‘Yeah? Well, that’s good, right?’
‘Talia, it’s a bit hard to explain, but this business is everything to me and Poppy right now. It has to work, or there’s a chance Pops and I won’t be able to live in Cuthbert Close any more.’
‘Everyone seems to really love living here.’
‘We do,’ said Cara. ‘And you will too, in time.’
‘Oh, I already do like it. Everyone’s great. Really friendly. I just wish Dad was here.’
‘I’m sure that if he could be here, he would be.’
For the next few minutes, the two of them worked in silence, with only the scrubbing sounds of the brush against the wall to break the quiet. Eventually, from across the garden, came the filtered sound of someone calling.
‘Talia. Talia. Where are you?’
Cara put her brush down. ‘That sounds like your mum.’
Talia pulled a face. ‘She’s probably got jobs for me to do.’
‘Probably more important you do those jobs than helping me.’
Cara followed her out the door, through the garden and down the side passage to the street. Charlie Devine stood at her front door, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun. As she spotted Talia and Cara, her frown deepened.
‘Sorry, Charlie. Talia was just helping me clean up the shed.’ Cara remained at the bottom of the Devines’ drive while Talia scurried towards her mother. ‘She’s been terrific, actually. She’s a real credit to you.’
‘Thank you, Cara, but Talia knows she’s actually supposed to be doing her homework. She really doesn’t have the time to be playing around in the street.’
Playing around?
Cara prickled.
What was Charlie Devine’s problem? Why was she so determined to refuse every kindness, every hand of friendship, every olive branch? She hadn’t even asked about the fire.
Cara went to open her mouth but was stopped by the sight of Talia Devine slowly shaking her head.
She retreated down the driveway. The teenager was telling her not to push it, so she wouldn’t; if a parent didn’t fit in, that wasn’t the fault of the child, as Cara well knew.
Back in the shed, she checked her phone. Nothing from Will Parry. Should she tell him about the fire? She thought for a second. The damage was minimal. Telling him might only deter him and his siblings from wanting to buy the property. No. He didn’t need to know. Nothing could jeopardise her and Poppy’s chances of staying in the Cuthbert cottage.
With a small sigh, she picked up the brush and started scrubbing again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‘You haven’t seen my engagement ring, have you?’ Beth scanned the shelf above the kettle where she normally put the two-carat diamond solitaire when she was cooking.
‘When did you last have it?’ Max leant against the bench and sipped his coffee.
‘I remember taking it off before the launch party to roll out the pastry, but then I must have forgotten to put it back on.’ She started opening drawers. Her plain gold wedding band was still in its proper place on her finger, but the engagement ring was worth so much more, both in dollar value and sentiment.
‘So, it’s been missing for almost a week?’
Beth whipped around to face him. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, the last few days have been a bit of a roller-coaster.’ There’d been the launch party, then the fire. Beth shivered every time she thought of just how bad it could have been. Thank goodness Poppy and Cara were okay, and the damage to the shed more cosmetic than anything. It certainly hadn’t stopped them from cooking and delivering 105 meals to fifteen different locations.
Today being Saturday, Cara wanted to capitalise on the momentum of their first week by recording a video for social media of them preparing a signature Nourish meal. Alex had agreed to play videographer.
‘Well, suppose I’ll be heading off now, then.’ Max emptied the dregs of his coffee into the sink.
‘You’re not going to help me look?’ Beth cursed the amount of stuff in their drawers. Batteries, pens, sticky tape and old bank books, and the chaos of it replicated what was going on in Beth’s head. Her thoughts were a mess of fragments, about Max and his distracted state, the mysterious note, the kids and their lack of interest in anything else other than themselves, her kiss with Adam, and now, her determination to achieve some financial independence out of Nourish.
Max checked his watch. ‘I’ve got to get to the gym.’
Beth closed the drawer and leant against it. ‘Why?’ Her gaze narrowed on him. ‘What’s the rush? Meeting someone?’ She folded her arms.
‘Ah, no.’ Max felt in his pockets. ‘I’m doing a class.’
Max never did classes. He hated classes. All that shouting, and waiting around for it to begin. He went to the gym to do weights. Get in, get out, go home. He said his aim was to be fitter and stronger at the age of fifty than he was at forty. Training for the charity run took care of the cardio fitness, but his doctor had told him that where middle-aged men went wrong was to ignore their strength. A few weights would take care of that.
Beth was suspicious. What man in the history of men had actually ever listened to their doctor? Only a blind person could fail to see the way in which the gym was changing Max’s physique. In the bathroom last night, while Beth was brushing her teeth, she’d felt a twinge in her nether regions as Max showered, unaware of being watched. His eyes were closed, and the water ran down over his sculpted arms and torso, with its beginnings of a sixpack. The gym had uncovered muscles that Beth hadn’t seen since they were in their twenties. After the shower, she’d hopped into bed and waited for Max, who slid between the sheets all soapy and fresh.
Beth couldn’t help herself. She’d reached for him. What difference did it make? No feelings. No emotion. Just two bodies, doing what two bodies were made to do.
After twenty minutes of vigorous love-making, Max had lain spent and breathing heavily. ‘Wow,’ he muttered, closing his eyes. ‘Where did that come from?’
Beth hadn’t answered, and whatever small sense of satisfaction she’d felt from showing Max that this was what he’d be missing quickly evaporated into the warm night air. She rolled over and pretended to sleep. Sex with Max had always been good. Certainly, after children, it wasn’t the wild, tear-at-each-other’s-clothes type of sex that it had been in the beginning. After all, if someone did tear a shirt, then Beth would have to be the one who mended it the next day. They knew what each other liked. There was no need to waste time experimenting any more. A particular touch here, a lick there, a grab somewhere else and everyone went home happy and, more importantly, got a good night’
s sleep, which, as every parent knew, was more of an aphrodisiac than the best oysters or champagne.
What killed a sex life wasn’t familiarity, it was exhaustion. At least it was for Beth, and she had been feeling even more tired lately. Was she pre-menopausal? Hot flushes and hairy lips were the last thing she needed.
‘I’ve really got to go.’ Max was looking anxious now.
Beth felt a chill in her bones. Was he meeting her?
‘All right, just go then.’ She slammed the drawer shut and Max gave her a quizzical look.
‘Last night was … different.’ He paused at the bench. ‘Is everything okay?’
I suspect you’re having an affair and if you can treat sex as just a ‘thing’, then so can I.
Beth couldn’t meet his eye. She didn’t have proof of an affair. Not solid proof. And until she did, she would say nothing, at least not until after their anniversary party. ‘Of course it is. I just want to find the ring.’
He headed for the door. ‘It’ll turn up, and anyway, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just a ring. You can always get a new one,’ he called over his shoulder.
As the front door closed, Beth’s shoulders slumped. Was that really what Max thought? That she could just get a new one? Certainly, diamond solitaires with a plain gold band weren’t exactly hard to come by, but it wouldn’t carry the same sentiment. Not unless he took her up in a seaplane and presented it to her high over Sydney Harbour, the way he had all those years ago, shouting to be heard above the thrum of the propeller engine while a family of four German tourists looked distinctly uncomfortable at the wild display of kissing in the back of the tiny plane.
A new ring could never carry the significance of that moment.
Maybe this was an omen. A sign. She had lost the ring because her marriage was ending. Beth patted her chest. There was pain, real pain inside of it. A bit like indigestion, only she hadn’t eaten that morning.
Beth took the iPad off the shelf and opened the screen to messages.
About to leave. You still okay for 10 am?