The Fireman's Pole

by Sue Brown

  “Mrs. Wilson works for me. Is she all right?” the man demanded.

  “The paramedics are checking her over now,” Dale said.

  “How did the fire start?” His tone suggested he expected Dale to answer all his questions right then.

  Dale took a deep breath to stop the angry response on the tip of his tongue. “Sir, get back behind the cordon, please. We’ll be able to answer your questions later. Let me get back to doing my job.”

  “Don’t you know who I am?”

  Dale’s fraying patience snapped. “I don’t care if you’re Lord Muckety-Muck himself, sir. Get back behind the cordon now!”

  “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” the man growled.

  “I’m talking to the man who’s stopping me doing my job.”

  “I’m her landlord.”

  “Then you can wait until the fire is out and we’ll see if this is your fault,” Dale snapped.

  “What do you mean?”

  “These are old cottages. Who knows when the electrics were updated?”

  “The electrics were replaced in all the cottages in the road last year,” the man retorted, “and I don’t appreciate your implication.”

  Tank joined them. “Maloney, what’s going on here? Your lordship?”

  Your lordship? This was Lord Calminster? Dale was expecting someone middle-aged and balding with a paunch. He should be wearing a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows, not a killer suit, and where was his cap? Oh God, he really had just insulted Lord Muckety-Muck. He’d be clapped up in the village stocks before he said another word.

  “You said you were her landlord.”

  “He owns the whole village,” Tank said.

  Of course he does.

  Lord Calminster ignored Dale, directing his question at Tank. “What’s happened? Is Mrs. Wilson all right?”

  “She was lucky,” Tank said. “Maloney found her in the garden. Another few minutes and she might not have been so lucky. I can’t say the same for the cottage.”

  At the end of Tank’s brief summary, Lord Calminster deigned to notice Dale’s existence. “Thank you for rescuing Mrs. Wilson.”

  Dale curled his lip at his grudging thanks. “You’re welcome.” He stalked off to help the others, leaving Tank to deal with the arrogant SOB.

  Emma glanced over as he took his place on the hose. “His lordship got here quickly.”

  “Yeah,” Dale grunted.

  “Arrogant bastard, isn’t he?”

  Dale gave her a brief smile. “So it isn’t just me?”

  She laughed. “It’s not just you.”

  As they finally rolled away the hoses, Tank joined them. “What was that all about?”

  “What do you mean?” Dale asked.

  “You and his lordship.” Tank raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were going to punch each other’s lights out.”

  “I might have… um… accused him of being a negligent landlord.”

  Tank snorted out a laugh. “You remember he’s your landlord too?”

  “You mean I’ve upset the wrong person?”

  “And on your first day. Way to go.” Tank clapped Dale on the back, nearly driving him to his knees. Dale gritted his teeth as he recovered his balance. The watch commander obviously didn’t know his own strength.

  “Is he going to throw me out on the streets?” Dale asked. “Am I going to have to find a park bench to sleep on? Does Calminster have a park?”

  Tank grinned wickedly. “’Round the back of the church. The land was donated by his lordship’s father.”

  “Shit, my mother’s going to kill me,” Dale muttered.

  “Your mother?” Tank furrowed his brow, obviously confused, as he helped Dale stow the last hose.

  “She loved Downton Abbey. Oh well, it can only get better from here.”

  “If you say so.”

  Dale noticed Tank didn’t sound convinced. He wasn’t sure he’d convinced himself. But it was too late now. He’d have to make nice with the lord of the manor another day.

  Chapter Two

  “DON’T you know who I am?”

  The second the words passed Benedict Raleigh’s lips, he knew he’d made a mistake as the fire officer’s expression darkened.

  “I don’t care if you’re Lord Muckety-Muck himself, sir. Get back behind the cordon now!”

  Benedict Raleigh, nineteenth Baron Calminster of Calminster Hall, had no idea who the new firefighter was, but he needed to get the hell out of Ben’s way. Mrs. Wilson was the closest thing Ben had to a family, and nobody was going to stop him seeing how she was.

  When Colson, his butler, had burst into his study and told Ben about the fire, Ben had grabbed his shoes, told his three dogs to stay, and run as fast as he could through the formal gardens to the village green, Colson close behind him. He didn’t dare tell Colson to stay behind. Colson and Mrs. Wilson were family, especially since Ben’s parents had died.

  Now he was being blocked by an outsider with an attitude, and even if the guy did fulfill every fireman fantasy Ben had ever had, the man needed to understand who exactly he was dealing with. He was at the point of throwing his Lord Muckety-Muck title in Maloney’s face when Tank came over. Ben tried to hold back the smirk when Maloney realized Ben was the lord of the manor, but from the expression on Maloney’s face, he wasn’t entirely successful.

  Ben was relieved to discover from Tank that Mrs. Wilson was alive, and then one of the paramedics beckoned him over. Ben recognized her as someone who lived in the village. He jogged over to the gurney where Colson was talking to Mrs. Wilson.

  “Mrs. Wilson has minor burns, mild hypothermia, and probably a concussion, your lordship,” the paramedic said. “She’s conscious now. We’ll take her to hospital.”

  Mrs. Wilson grabbed his hand as he leant over the gurney, confusion on her face. “Mr. Ben. What are you doing here? Who are these people?”

  “Good to see you awake, Mrs. Wilson,” Ben said, trying not to show how distressed he was. “You had a bit of a fall.”

  “I did?” She wrinkled her face, trying to remember. “I was making my breakfast. I tripped over Sparkles. I don’t remember anything else. Mr. Ben, could you check I switched off the grill? I’m making toast.”

  Ben flicked a glance at the paramedic and Colson, who shook their heads. Evidently she didn’t know anything about the fire. He decided that could wait until later. “I’ll phone your daughter. She can meet you at the hospital.”

  “Don’t bother Sandra. She’s busy and I’m all right,” she said hoarsely. “I just need a sit down and a cup of tea.”

  “You know Sandra will have my guts if I don’t ring her,” Ben said.

  “We need to go.” The paramedic tried to move the gurney but Mrs. Wilson gasped and held on to Ben’s hand.

  “What about Sparkles? Is she all right?”

  Sparkles was a mean-spirited cat who was the center of Mrs. Wilson’s life. Dogs in the neighborhood would flee at the sight of Sparkles on the prowl.

  “I promise I’ll find her,” Ben said. “Let’s get you to hospital.”

  “I’ll go with Mrs. Wilson to the hospital,” Colson said. “I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

  Ben gently squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you there, Mrs. Wilson. Don’t run away.”

  She gave a weak laugh, which turned into a hacking cough, and the paramedics frowned, shuffling Ben out of the way so they could assess her.

  Reluctantly, Ben stepped back to let the paramedics get her into the ambulance; Colson climbed in with her. The blue lights flashed and onlookers scattered as the ambulance eased its way out of the cul-de-sac.

  As Ben watched them go, a woman shoved a mug of coffee in his hands. He finished the drink although it tasted of ashes and smoke, because he was aware of her eyes upon him, and knew he would just get another one thrust in his hand if he didn’t.

  Finally, the firemen rolled away the hoses and prepared to leave, including Maloney. Ben studied
him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and even covered in soot, he was stunning. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Ben flushed at being caught staring. Then one of the other firefighters slapped Maloney on the shoulder and distracted him before he climbed into the Scania. Ben was aware of Maloney’s final glance in his direction before the door shut with a clunk.

  After the fire appliances had backed out of the cul-de-sac, the woman who’d given him the coffee approached him again. “Do you need anything, Lord Calminster?”

  “I need to call Mrs. Wilson’s daughter,” Ben said. “I’ve got the number back at the Hall.”

  “I’ve got it on my phone. Do you want me to call?”

  “I should do it,” Ben said. “Could you send it to me?” He gave his number, and a minute later his phone vibrated. “I’ll call Sandra now. Could you arrange to get clothes and things for Mrs. Wilson? She’s got nothing left.”

  “The Women’s Institute has begun a collection for her. We’ll bring what we’ve collected over tonight, and the Ladies Group at the church is doing the same.”

  The ladies’ groups in the village were a formidable bunch of women, and Ben had no doubt Mrs. Wilson would be provided for. Then Ben remembered Mrs. Wilson’s concern for her cat.

  “Mrs. Wilson is worried about Sparkles.”

  “I’ll find her and take her in. She won’t have gone far.”

  “Thank you.” Ben smiled at her, a little embarrassed at not knowing who she was.

  “I’m just glad they found her.” The woman stuck her hand out. “I’m Lucy Jones.”

  “Benedict Raleigh.”

  Lucie’s lips twitched. “I know.”

  Ben decided to escape before he said anything else stupid. He moved out of earshot of everyone else and called Mrs. Wilson’s daughter.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is that Sandra?”

  “Yes, it is.” She sounded wary now. “I’m not buying anything.”

  “Sandra, it’s Ben Raleigh.”

  “Mr. Ben, I mean, Lord Calminster. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. No. There’s no easy way to break this news. There’s been a fire, and your mum—”

  “Oh my God! Mum….” Sandra sounded as if she was about to faint.

  “She’s okay, Sandra. I promise, she’s alive. We found her in the garden. The paramedics have taken her to hospital, but she’s all right. She’s got mild hypothermia and a concussion.”

  “She’s alive?” Sandra asked as if that was the only thing she could focus on.

  “I promise. The paramedics wanted to check her over at the hospital. You can meet her there.”

  “I’ll go now.” Ben heard her moving around as she talked.

  “I know this isn’t important now, but I’ll arrange a suite of rooms for her at the Hall when she’s released, and neighbors are organizing clothes and necessities.”

  “Is it that bad? Can’t she go back home?”

  “I’m so sorry, Sandra, but the cottage needs extensive repairs.”

  “God!” Sandra went quiet for a while, and Ben could hear her swallowing as if she was trying not to cry. “I’ll go to the hospital now.”

  Ben swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Colson is already there.”

  Sandra barked a short laugh. “Mum will tell me to go home as soon as I arrive. You know what she’s like.”

  Now Ben laughed, conscious of a few shocked glances his way. “I know she won’t want to stay in hospital for long. You can reassure her I’ll get the estate manager to organize a new cottage in the next couple of days. I know she likes being in the village.”

  “You know her well.”

  “She’s family,” Ben said simply. “I’ve just got to sort things out here and I’ll drive over to the hospital. I’ll see you there.”

  Ben visited Mrs. Wilson’s neighbors either side of her to check their homes weren’t badly damaged. They were lucky; the solid stone walls had contained the blaze. He assured them the estate manager would be around later to talk to them about repairs before he walked slowly back to the Hall.

  Calminster Hall was a large Georgian home nestling in the Hampshire countryside. To Benedict, it was home. He had lived in the house his entire life, and at twenty-three years old, he became Lord Calminster, nineteenth Baron of Calminster Hall, on the death of his father, a minor peer but extremely wealthy and an astute businessman. He’d started working for his father as a teenager, and his suggestions had helped to expand the businesses running on the estate. Fifteen years on, the Calminster Hall estate was a rare beast—a profitable country home.

  As he reached the herb garden, his phone buzzed. Ben dug it out to see a message from his girlfriend.

  We need to talk.

  Ben rolled his eyes. The message was so typical of Sabrina. He quickly typed a message in return.

  Later. Dealing with emergency.

  His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. Sabrina could wait. He needed to make sure Mrs. Wilson was okay before he worried about his girlfriend. The study doors were closed, so he walked around to what used to be the servants’ door and entered the house. The dogs rushed to greet him, and Ben knelt to rub their ears and bellies. Frankie, the little Yorkshire terrier, sniffed at him curiously. Ben wrinkled his nose at the waft of soot and ash on his clothes and skin. He desperately needed a shower and a long drink of something cold to wash away the rank taste in his mouth.

  Lisa glanced up from the pile of potatoes she was peeling when Ben walked into the kitchen in search of the drink. “We’ll put Mrs. Wilson in the Rose Room, Lord Calminster, because of the lift. You know she struggles with the stairs. The room is being aired out now.”

  Ben pulled a jug of Mrs. Wilson’s fresh lemonade out of the fridge. “You know she’s going to complain at being in the master bedroom.” He poured a glass and drank deeply, gasping at the sour taste, but it was exactly what he needed.

  “I know, but it’s the only one we have that’s suitable. Do you want me to sort something else out instead?”

  “It’s fine with me, Lisa,” Ben reassured him. “I need to talk to Barry about another cottage when she’s ready.”

  “He’s already checking into it. There’s one down Primrose Lane that’s been vacant for a while. And he’s going to check on Mrs. Wilson’s neighbors in case they need repairs.”

  Ben was unsurprised that his staff were several steps ahead of him. That’s what he paid them for.

  “I’ll fill in a few shifts while she’s in hospital, and we can sort out the others,” Lisa said. “Go and rest for a moment. I’ll bring you tea.”

  Ben rubbed his eyes. “I have to get to the hospital.”

  “Mr. Colson phoned me about five minutes ago. She’s still waiting in A&E. You’ve got time for tea,” she said firmly.

  As Ben retreated to his personal study, he thought a little ruefully that his staff managed him, rather than him managing them. He needed a few moments to recover. His heart was still pounding at the fear that Mrs. Wilson had been killed in the blaze. She treated him like a grandson, and as far as Ben was concerned, she was the closest thing to family he had left, along with Colson. He slumped onto the sofa and closed his eyes, appreciating the comfort of the dogs snuggling around him. He would need to have a shower before he went to Accident and Emergency, or Mrs. Wilson would scold him. Ben rubbed his eyes and wished he hadn’t, as they felt like sandpaper.

  The tea arrived so quickly Ben suspected it had been ready and waiting for him. He smiled as Lisa brought in the tray of tea and sandwiches. “Thanks, Lisa.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Ben. I have to remind you of something. What was it?” Lisa wrinkled her brow, then snapped her fingers. “Miss Sabrina just called. She’s coming over tonight.”

  “She is?” Ben was damn sure they hadn’t made plans, and she hadn’t mentioned it in her texts. “Okay, thanks for the warning.”

  Once Lisa had departed, Ben growled under his breath. The last thing he wanted was Sabrina aro
und tonight. It was going to be traumatic enough without her being there. He dug out his phone and tapped Sabrina’s number.

  “Hello, stranger.”

  Ben heard the edge in her silky tone and gritted his teeth.

  “Sabrina, what’s this about coming over?”

  “I told you we need to talk.”

  “Sabrina, it’s been a long day. We had a fire in the village. Mrs. Wilson’s cottage is destroyed. Can’t it wait?” Ben was hard put to keep the growl out of his voice.

  “Who is Mrs. Wilson?”

  Ben bit back his angry retort. It was a source of contention that Sabrina had never made the effort to get to know his staff. “She’s my cook. You’ve met her several times.”

  “Oh. Is she all right?” Sabrina didn’t sound as if she cared much about Mrs. Wilson.

  “She’s gone to A&E. I’m just about to go there.”

  “I suppose it can wait another day.”

  Now she sounded sulky, and Ben was tempted to end the call. He made an effort to gentle his tone. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodbye.”

  He disconnected before she could say anything else and threw the phone onto the sofa. He wouldn’t put it past her to turn up anyway. Ben growled as he picked up his tea. He shivered as he thought about what could’ve happened, and then, for some reason, that fireman popped into his mind. What was his name? Martin? Markus? Maloney. That was it. He pushed all Ben’s buttons, even if he was an arrogant sod. Ben shook his head to clear his mind. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anyone, hot or otherwise.

  Chapter Three

  DESPITE Dale’s run-in with the lord of the manor, he was settling in to his new home without any problems. From the moment he stepped into the Shepherd’s Crook pub and a total stranger bought him a drink, he realized that rescuing Mrs. Wilson had got him into the village’s good books quicker than anything else could.

  His job was going well too. He still missed his old station, but the new crew were fun to work with, and there was enough work to keep him occupied. He tried not to think about Baz, but when he was on his own, it was hard not to feel acutely alone without someone to snuggle up to.