The Fireman's Pole

by Sue Brown

  “You giving your boy a show?” Tank asked.

  Midway through a shoulder roll, Dale froze. “What do you mean?” He followed Tank’s gaze. Ben was with a small group of people, but his attention was focused on Dale until he caught Dale’s eye and flushed, turning away.

  Tank rolled his eyes. “You two are going to have to be a damn sight more subtle if you’re supposed to be keeping it quiet.”

  Dale frowned at him. “What are we keeping quiet?”

  “You and his lordship, sitting in the tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g?”

  Firstly, he hadn’t done nearly enough kissing with Ben. He was convinced there would never be enough kissing with Ben. Secondly, he hadn’t realized their relationship was still supposed to be a secret. It wasn’t like half the village didn’t know already. Dale hadn’t moved halfway across the country to be shoved back in the closet. Then he saw the worried frown on Ben’s face. They were going to have a talk, and soon. But first he needed a can of something cold and fizzy and a burger. Christ, he was starving.

  He nodded at Ben, hoping that would reassure him. The frown on Ben’s face eased a little, and he nodded back. Dale also noticed the curious glances from Ben’s companions. Tank was right. If Ben was trying to keep his interest in Dale quiet, he was failing miserably.

  Dale looked at Tank. “Okay if I take a break? I need food. I can take an order for all of you.”

  Tank clapped him on the back, nearly driving Dale to his knees. “Now you’re talking. Take Mick with you. He needs the exercise.” He raised his voice so Mick could hear him.

  “You’ve got to stop doing that,” Dale grumbled as he got to his feet, brushing the dirt off his knees.

  Mick joined Dale and Tank. “’Bout fuckin’ time. Thought you were gonna starve me.”

  Dale snorted as Mick patted his rounded belly. Mick certainly didn’t look starved. His wife, Beth, believed in good food piled high. Sometimes Mick would bring in her meals for the crew, who worshipped the ground she walked on. Dale and Mick took orders and headed to the catering area, where the barbecue and the beer tent were set up.

  “How’re you doing, Dale?” Mick asked out of the blue.

  “I’m fine. Why?” Dale was startled by the question.

  “I always keep an eye on the newbies,” Mick said. “We’ve been so busy, I haven’t got around to asking the question.”

  “You’re a good bloke, Mick.”

  “I know,” Mick said wryly. “I’m well trained by Beth.”

  “She’s the best. You’re so lucky.”

  “You think I don’t know it? You haven’t answered my question.”

  Dale thought about it for a moment before giving a snap answer. “I’m really happy, Mick. Making the move to Calminster was the best decision ever.”

  “I’m really glad,” Mick said. “You’ve fitted in well. Even the commander likes you, and I thought that was an impossibility after you pranged Bertha.” He squinted at the beer tent. “I could murder a pint.”

  “Later,” Dale said as they dodged a small group of people.

  Mick shook his head. “Not ’til tomorrow evening. I’m picking up an early shift for Lola. She’s still dealing with stuff after her mum died.”

  “I didn’t know.” He’d said hello in passing to the guys on the other shifts, but that was all. “You tell her that I’ll help with any shifts if she needs me to.”

  “Great. I will.”

  The queue for the barbecue was long, but it gave Dale a chance to study Ben as unobtrusively as he could, although when he caught Mick rolling his eyes, he realized maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

  By this time they reached the front of the line, and a woman wielding a wicked pair of tongs smiled at them.

  “What do you want, gents?”

  Mick beamed at her. “Sharon, darl, we’ve got a long order.”

  The people behind Mick and Dale groaned, but Sharon just nodded. “Let’s start.”

  THEY walked away fifteen minutes later with boxes full of food and drink, the aromas making Dale’s stomach rumble.

  Dale drooled at the large quantity of food in the box. “That was quick.”

  Mick grunted and carefully held on to his box as he scratched his nose. “The women doing the cooking are the cooks for the local school. They do the barbecue every year because they’re used to cooking for large numbers.”

  “Wish they cooked for us,” Dale said. “No, I wish your Beth cooked for us, but these ladies run a close second.”

  “I worship every hair on their furry chins.”

  Dale snorted out a laugh. Then his attention was diverted as he spotted an elegantly dressed woman hanging on to Ben’s arm. “Who’s the woman with Ben?”

  “Karen something-or-other. She’s some sort of celebrity,” Mick said. “Been on TV once or twice. I dunno. Ask Keith. He’s more likely to know.”

  “’Kay.”

  Karen Something-or-Other was too bloody comfortable on Ben’s arm in Dale’s opinion. Then Ben looked around, his gaze growing heated when it landed on him, and Dale realized he was being an idiot. She was probably a friend or something.

  “Hurry up,” Mick said. “The food’ll be cold.”

  Dale tore his gaze away from Ben and hurried after Mick. He had to focus. Otherwise, he was going to make a right prat of himself.

  “About bloody time,” Tank grumbled as they approached. “Thought you two had run off with the money.”

  “Yeah, yeah, ’cos we’d get a long way with forty quid.” Mick put down the box thankfully.

  Tank swung the small boy down from the engine and smiled at the queue of families waiting their turn. “Time for our lunch. We’ll be back soon.” He knelt in front of one young child, his chin wobbling as if he was about to cry. “We won’t be long, Jimmy. I promise.”

  “Do you know everyone here?” Dale asked.

  “More or less,” Tank said before he stuffed half his burger in his mouth.

  Dale couldn’t imagine only ever living in one place. He’d never lived in one place for more than three years, even as a kid.

  “You know Tank and his lordship went to the same school?” Mick said.

  Dale blinked at Tank. “You did? You didn’t tell me.”

  “Not my business, mate. Besides, we weren’t friends or anything. Poor bloke. He wasn’t really friends with anyone. Everyone was too scared of his dad and stayed away from him.”

  “Jeez,” Dale breathed out. He wanted to rush over to Ben, wrap him up in a bear hug, and tell him it would be all right.

  Tank turned away from Dale’s accusing eyes. “You’ve got to understand; the old lord was a bit of a dick.”

  “But Ben was a kid.”

  “And his dad could make trouble for any of us. Most of the parents worked on the estate or in the village. It wasn’t just their jobs; most of them lived in a house provided by the estate.”

  Dale took a deep breath and tried to smile at Tank. It was all a long time ago, and he didn’t know any of them then. He just felt so sorry for Ben. No wonder he was screwed up about relationships.

  “You’ve got it bad for him, then?” Keith asked.

  “Yeah.” Dale didn’t hesitate. Someone had to have Ben’s back. He waited, but Keith just made a grunt. It sounded satisfied, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Are you going to stand around, or are you doing your job?”

  They all turned to see a grumpy and harassed-looking man with three kids around his knees.

  Dale opened his mouth to point out this was not his fucking job, but he caught Tank shaking his head, and he shut it again.

  “Afternoon, Frank. Hey, monsters, have you got a hug for your uncle Tank?” He knelt down, and the two boys rushed to hug him. The third boy, obviously younger than the other two, hid behind his father’s legs.

  Dale stared at Tank and then the grumpy git, noting the similarities in their facial features. “This is your brother?”

  “For my sins. Dale, meet Fr
ank and my nephews, Alfie, Mushroom’s the one hiding, and Tom is the ginger.”

  Dale frowned. “Mushroom?”

  “When he was born, he had a head like a mushroom,” Tank said.

  “He didn’t.” Frank shoved his brother. “Tank just likes giving kids stupid nicknames. This is Kit.”

  Kit was obviously tired since he sucked his thumb. He was also clutching a stuffed toy tightly to his chest. Dale got down on his haunches and smiled at the little boy.

  “Hey, Kit. I like your bear. Does he have a name?”

  The little boy hesitated, then said, “He’s called Ted.”

  “Hello, Ted,” Dale said solemnly. “Would you like to go on the engine?”

  Kit nodded. “He says yes.”

  Dale got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on, then.” He led Kit to the engine, Kit’s brothers following behind. There was a rumbling of discontent from people at the head of the queue. Dale sent them an apologetic smile and said, “Just five minutes.”

  “They’ve been on the engine hundreds of times,” Frank said, “but every time they see Tank, you’d think they’d never seen a fire engine before.”

  Frank and his kids had their turn, and then Dale and Tank spent another hour manning the never-ending line of parents and their children, wanting to play on the engine. After a group of teen girls that Dale recognized as the dancers from the maypole declared it was their turn, and spent ten minutes trying to flirt with Dale, he begged Tank for another break.

  “Mick and Keith can do the last couple of hours,” Tank said.

  It hadn’t escaped Dale’s notice that Mick had avoided any contact with the children thus far. Mick grumbled, but at Tank’s scowl, he subsided and took Dale’s place, much to the disgust of the girls, who obviously didn’t appreciate Mick’s older charms.

  Dale spent ten minutes searching for Ben. When he eventually found him talking to Mrs. Manning, Dale claimed he absolutely had to talk to Ben. She let them go with a knowing smile. Dale led Ben behind the tents, and before Ben could say a word, Dale tugged him into his arms and kissed him. Ben stiffened, his arms flailing as he tried to pull away, but Dale wouldn’t let him go.

  “What the hell? We can’t. Here.”

  Dale ignored Ben’s protests and kissed him again. Finally, Ben relaxed a fraction. Dale grunted in satisfaction and hauled Ben closer, one hand tangled in his hair and the other cupping his ass. Ben curled his fingers against Dale’s chest, submitting to Dale’s onslaught. Dale kept kissing Ben until the tension left his muscles. The need for air paramount, Dale raised his head, noticing with satisfaction Ben’s glazed eyes and swollen lips.

  Ben ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “You make me do dangerous things.”

  “Kissing me is dangerous?”

  “Being within ten feet of you is dangerous.”

  Yes, Dale was smug about that. He knew the effect he had on Ben, but then, Ben had the same effect on him.

  “I just need to be careful. The villagers—”

  “I hate to be the one to break it to you, your lordship,” Dale said carefully, “but the whole village knows you’re gay.”

  Ben stared at him. “They do?”

  They both swung around at the cough. Mrs. Manning smiled uncomfortably. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Bene… Lord Calminster, but you’re expected….” She waved at the stage.

  “Oh, oh, yes.” Ben visibly got himself together.

  Dale was about to say something when Mrs. Manning spoke first. “No one cares about—you know.”

  “You know?” Ben asked.

  “The fact you’re—er—gay. The village just wants you to be happy.” Mrs. Manning stumbled over the words but she was obviously sincere. For his part, Ben was wide-eyed and looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but having this conversation.

  Dale grinned at Mrs. Manning, making a mental note to find a quiet corner and hug the woman senseless. He slung his arm around Ben’s shoulders and tugged him close. “He’s going to be happy. I’m going to make sure of it.” He winked conspiratorially at Mrs. Manning.

  Ben scowled, but he stayed tucked into Dale’s side.

  “Er—speeches, Lord Calminster?” Mrs. Manning’s smile was apologetic.

  Dale squeezed Ben’s shoulder. “Go on. I’ll see you later.”

  Ben followed Mrs. Manning a couple of steps and then turned back to Dale. “Will you be here?”

  “If I don’t get called away, I’ll be here,” Dale promised. Wild horses wouldn’t drag him away, but a callout was something different. He prayed Olly Miller would get drunk and take the day off.

  Ben stared at him, obviously seeking reassurance. Dale smiled and leaned back against the fire engine, showing Ben he wasn’t moving from the spot. Ben smiled back.

  “Lord Calminster?” Mrs. Manning sounded a little more impatient this time.

  Dale flapped his hands, telling Ben to move on. Ben turned back to Mrs. Manning and apologized. As Ben walked away, Dale wondered how he could be so lucky. The man obviously wanted him and, more to the point, needed him. Dale was going to spend as much time as he could showing Ben just how important he was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  AS was his usual habit, Ben left the parade soon after the speeches. It gave the villagers the chance to relax without feeling he was judging them. He’d been aware of Dale’s hot gaze on him as he gave out the prizes. Unfortunately, the fire crew had to leave before he got a chance to speak to Dale, but he’d left a text on Ben’s phone, saying he’d be over later that night.

  Ben walked back to the house to be greeted by the dogs, pleased that their master was finally home. Fluffy and Fern stuck wet noses in his eyes and Frankie wriggled in ecstasy. The house was empty, the staff having the day off for the parade. Ben kicked off his shoes, poured himself a large brandy, and crashed on his sofa, surrounded by the dogs. This was one day of the year he allowed himself an afternoon off.

  It was only once he’d relaxed, the warmth of the brandy seeping through him, that he realized how much tension he’d been carrying all day. Ben had been expecting trouble, a fire somewhere, but it seemed Olly Miller had decided to take the day off, like everyone else. Ben was relieved. Every time the Hall received a call that there was a fire, Ben worried. He knew they’d all been minor, poor Bonnie aside, but nevertheless Dale was on the front line—his man. Ben knew he was going to have to get used to that if they were going to stay together.

  Ben took another sip of brandy and switched on the TV. He flicked through the channels trying to find something to watch. “Five hundred channels of bloody nothing,” he muttered.

  His phone saved him from tedium. Sabrina’s beautiful face filled his screen. Ben hesitated for a moment, and then he answered. “Sabrina?”

  “Ben?” She sounded distracted.

  “Who did you expect it to be?”

  “I’d have been happy if it was your caveman.”

  “Caveman? Sabrina, are you drunk?”

  “Caveman, fireman, it’s the same thing.”

  “If you say so.” Personally Ben was quite content with his fireman.

  “Have you heard from my father?”

  “Not since the shareholders meeting.”

  The meeting had been explosive, but Ben had come out with a vote of confidence and his company intact.

  “He’s still trying to cause trouble.”

  Ben sighed and took a large swallow of brandy. “We knew he was going to. I’d better talk to Freely again.”

  Sabrina huffed in his ear. “I’ve already talked to them all again.”

  “Why didn’t we have this conversation before I decided to go into business with your father?” Ben could have saved himself a lot of hassle and a relationship he didn’t want.

  “It’s not my fault if you decided to underestimate me,” she said lightly.

  “I had no idea—”

  “And that’s just the way I like it.”

  “Did you ring up just to gloat?”


  “Yes.”

  Ben rolled his eyes because Sabrina was never going to change. “Bye, Sabrina.”

  “Bye, Ben.”

  Ben disconnected the call, then finished his brandy and closed his eyes. He could do with a nap. He jumped out of his skin when someone knocked at the study door.

  “Hello?”

  Colson peered around the door. “Would you like some tea?”

  “What are you doing here?” Ben asked. “You’ve got the day off.”

  Colson came into the room with a tray. “They needed more cake. Mrs. Wilson sent me to get some. Then she rang me to say they’d found the cakes behind the beer barrels.”

  Ben frowned. “Is that supposed to make sense?”

  “It’s Mrs. Wilson,” Colson said as if that explained it all. “Anyway, I realized you were home, and I thought you might want a cup of tea.”

  “Yes, please.” Ben accepted the cup from Colson. “Are you going back to the parade?”

  Colson shook his head so vigorously Ben was sure it was going to fall off. “I’m going to hide.”

  “Stay for a while?” Ben indicated the armchair.

  “Of course.” Colson sat down and leaned back in his chair. He sighed and crossed his ankles.

  “Why’ve you never left the Hall?” Ben asked.

  “You’ve never asked me that question before.”

  “I never thought about it. You were just always here. Like Mrs. Wilson.”

  “Ah. And now she’s not here, you’re worrying about me leaving?”

  Colson always had the ability to see right through Ben.

  Ben shrugged. “Maybe, a little.”

  “I’ve never wanted to leave the Hall,” Colson said. “I’m happy here. Dad was the butler, and he taught me everything.”

  “He trained you well.”

  Colson smiled a little sadly. “Yes, he did.”

  “But didn’t you ever want to do something else?”

  “I suppose, maybe once or twice. But once I met Joe, I knew I’d be here forever.”

  Ben choked on his tea. He spluttered and flailed out. Colson swiftly took Ben’s cup out of his hand and handed him a tissue.

  Ben wiped his mouth and took a moment to breathe before he said, “You and Joe? Joe, the head gardener?”