The Fireman's Pole

by Sue Brown

  Tank waved Dale over when he saw him. “They’ve taken his lordship to hospital as a precaution, but he was conscious when the ambulance left.”

  Dale breathed easier for the first time since he’d seen Ben lying on the floor. “Thank Christ for that.”

  “I’m going to the hospital now,” Colson said. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Dale said.

  “I’ll do that.” Colson held out his hand to Tank. “Thank you.”

  “Just doing our job. Thankfully it didn’t spread too far.”

  “His lordship was in the process of installing a sprinkler system in the house. He saw what happened to Clandon Park a couple of years ago. The contractors hadn’t finished the work.”

  “I wonder if someone knew that,” Dale said.

  Tank frowned. “You think Miller did this? It’s a big leap from garden sheds to Calminster Hall.”

  Dale shrugged. “He had an issue with his lordship. I caught him sounding off in this very spot. The police should talk to his mate—Chris or something like that.”

  “Chaz Bishop,” Tank said.

  “Your investigation team can deal with Barry Chalmers, the estate manager,” Mr. Colson said, pointing out the estate manager talking to a police officer.

  “I must go. His lordship’s expecting me.”

  Dale watched him leave, wishing he could go with him. It was the first time his job had become personal, and he didn’t like the feeling.

  Tank squeezed his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get back to the station. If it’s quiet, you can finish the shift early.”

  Dale smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Tank.”

  He helped stow away the hoses and climbed into Bertha’s cab. As he waited for the rest of the crew, he remembered how he’d thought working in a rural location would be quiet. “I got that wrong,” he murmured.

  “Got what wrong?” Mick asked as he sat down.

  “I thought it would be quiet here. Boring. I’ve worked harder here than in Nottingham.”

  “You city boys have it easy.”

  “I think you’re right,” Dale agreed.

  As they drove back to the station, he shuddered at the thought of how close he’d come to losing Ben. Mick squeezed Dale’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Just thinking….”

  “Don’t,” Mick advised. “We found him. That’s all that matters.”

  “What if we hadn’t? What was he doing in that room?”

  “You’ll drive yourself nuts thinking like that,” Tank said. “Being in there probably saved him.”

  Dale knew they were right, but he couldn’t let it go. Ben had been minutes away from death, and no one would have found him until it was too late. Dale shuddered at the thought of losing Ben.

  Mick patted him, clumsily trying to reassure him. “He’ll be fine, Dale. You’ll see.”

  “Okay.” Dale nodded, more to reassure Mick than himself. “I know he’ll be okay.”

  AT the station, Lee Fang joined them. “Maloney, Roberts is covering the rest of your shift. Get yourself to the hospital.”

  Dale smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks, sir. Tell her I’ll cover one of hers.”

  “I will. Get going.” Whatever hang-ups Fang had had about Dale and Ben’s relationship, he was obviously over it.

  “Have you heard from the hospital?”

  Fang shook his head. “Give them a chance, Maloney.”

  Dale thanked him again and headed for his locker. He stripped off his uniform and changed into an old fireman’s T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. He knew he stunk of smoke, but a shower would have to wait until later. Ben was more important.

  DALE cursed loudly as he drove to the hospital at a snail’s pace, attracting every tractor and slow driver in the county.

  “What the hell! Go to fucking Specsavers!” Dale slammed his hand on the steering wheel and screeched at the unhearing driver who pulled out in front of him. “I know I’m in a Mini. I should’ve fucking driven Bertha. Then you might see me.”

  By the time he reached A&E, Dale had lost the will to live. Unfamiliar with the hospital layout, Dale drove around twice before he found a parking space. In A&E reception, which was remarkably empty, Dale headed to the desk. The receptionist wrinkled her nose, and Dale realized he probably looked a mess as well as stinking of the fire.

  “Yes? May I help you?” she asked.

  “Lord Calminster? He came in a short while ago.”

  “And you are?”

  “The fireman who saved his life, and I’m also his partner.” Dale leaned forward, and she instinctively took a step back. He had just enough control to leave the Give me any grief and I’ll tear your throat out unsaid.

  “I’ll find out for you,” she said hastily.

  Dale managed a tight smile. “Thank you.”

  She was back in a couple of minutes. “The doctors are examining him now. If you take a seat, someone will get you when they’ve finished.”

  Dale wanted to protest, but he didn’t want to get thrown out. He sat down on one of the plastic chairs and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  After half an hour, he went up to the desk again. The receptionist pasted on a smile as Dale approached and asked what was going on.

  “I’m sorry, the doctors are still with Lord Calminster.”

  Dale clenched his hands so tightly, his nails dug into the palms of his hands. “Is he all right? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You’ll have to wait until they’ve finished.”

  After an hour, Dale was at screaming point when the door opened and Colson beckoned him.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn’t know you were here,” Colson said, exhaustion carving deeper lines around his eyes.

  Dale scowled at the receptionist, but she paid no attention to him. “I arrived an hour ago. How is he? The receptionist said the doctors were with him a long time.”

  “Concussion and smoke inhalation, plus a sprained wrist. They’re worried about what he could’ve inhaled, bearing in mind he was in a cupboard full of chemicals. Come on through.”

  “Is Ben awake?”

  Colson shook his head. “He’s asleep at the moment. He had trouble breathing for a while, so they sedated him.”

  Dale stopped in his tracks. “How bad is he?” he demanded.

  “He’s breathing on his own. They haven’t had to ventilate him. You can sit with him for a while.”

  Christ! Dale’s stomach churned. He’d been a fireman long enough to know what smoke and chemicals did to the lungs. Colson led the way into a room, empty apart from one patient. Dale stopped in the doorway, struggling to breathe himself as he saw Ben, lying still in the bed. Ben was okay. Dale had to keep telling himself that. Aside from the oxygen through a nasal cannula, he was fine.

  Colson turned and saw Dale in the throes of his meltdown. He strode over to put his arm around Dale’s shoulders. “Mr. Ben is all right, Dale. He’s here.”

  “I know, I’m just being stupid. Just ignore me.” Dale sucked in a breath and told himself to man the fuck up. Ben wasn’t dead or burned. He just needed time to recover.

  “He’ll be pleased you’re here.”

  “I should have come with him.”

  “You had a job to do,” Colson said.

  Dale pulled a seat close to the bed and sat down, taking Ben’s uninjured hand in his. Ben didn’t react at all. Dale studied Ben’s face, deathly pale through the dirt tracks from the fire.

  Colson rubbed his face. “I’ll get coffee.”

  Dale frowned as he tore his eyes away from Ben to look at the butler. “Have you been checked over?”

  The man was wrecked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s a no, then.”

  Colson scowled at him. “I wasn’t the one trapped in the fire.”

  “You need to be checked out,” Dale insisted.

&nbs
p; “I need coffee more.”

  “Go and get the damn coffee, then get yourself checked by the doctors. I mean it,” Dale said sternly as Colson opened his mouth to argue. “Where’s Joe?”

  Suspicion was written all over Colson’s face. “Why?”

  “He had his arm around you back at the Hall,” Dale pointed out. “I’m sure he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon.”

  “Someone had to stay and manage the staff. Barry’s dealing with the police and fire officers. Joe’s going to take care of the staff.”

  “Mrs. Wilson?” Dale felt guilty. He hadn’t given her a second thought in his concern for Ben.

  “She’s fine. A bit shocked, but she was the one who raised the alarm.” Colson shuffled to the door. “Er…. Dale?”

  Dale had gone back to staring at Ben again. “Yes?”

  “Me and Joe… we….” Colson stared anywhere but at Dale.

  “Not my business,” Dale said.

  “Did Mr. Ben tell you?”

  Dale tried not to smirk as Colson asked the question. He looked like he was being dragged across hot coals. “Not a word. But if you were keeping it a secret, I’d say the cat’s out of the bag.”

  “Joe’s going to be furious.”

  “He was the one hugging you in front of everyone,” Dale pointed out, and then he did smirk as Colson brightened up.

  “So he did!”

  Colson went out of the room, almost smiling, and Dale turned his attention back to Ben. He brushed his lips against the back of Ben’s hand and grimaced at the acrid taste of fire.

  “I’m not going to lose you,” Dale murmured, swallowing hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. “You’re mine, Benedict Raleigh. I love you.”

  He was sure Ben smiled.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BEN opened his eyes, blinking sleepily against the sudden light. Something was wrong, but he was too disorientated to work out what it was. He wasn’t at the Hall, and this wasn’t his bed. Dale was there reading a newspaper. Why was Dale sitting in a chair by his bed?

  “Hey, you’re awake.” Dale grinned at him, a relieved expression in his huge eyes.

  “Where…?” Ben removed the mask and tried to moisten his dry mouth. “What happened?”

  “Do you remember anything?”

  Ben parsed through his memories. “I was….” He wrinkled his brow. “Dogs? Was I walking the dogs? I don’t remember.”

  “There was a fire in the boot room. We found you in the storage room and got you out just in time. Whoa!” Dale pushed Ben back against the pillow as he tried to sit up. “Stay put, okay? You’re not hurt, but you breathed in a lot of smoke, and they just want to keep an eye on you.”

  “Why was I in the storage room?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t you remember going in there?”

  “No.” Ben wrinkled his brow. “I don’t remember.”

  Dale kissed Ben on the forehead. “Don’t worry. It’ll come to you.”

  “The staff? Colson? Are they all right?”

  Dale smiled at him as if he was ridiculously pleased about something. “They’re fine. They all got out. You were the only one who needed treatment.”

  “And the Hall?”

  “There’s damage to the servants’ quarters, but—”

  Ben sat up, throwing off Dale’s restraining hand. He couldn’t be lying around in bed all day when his home had been destroyed. “Where are my clothes?”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dale sounded exasperated.

  “I’m fine.” Ben stood, swaying at the sudden rush to his head.

  His moment of being vertical lasted about five seconds, and then he was back on the bed again. He coughed, the action hurting his throat and lungs, but he couldn’t stop.

  Dale looked unrepentant at virtually throwing Ben back on the bed. He made Ben take a few deep breaths of oxygen, which eased the burning in his lungs. “You’re staying put, mate. You breathed in smoke, and until you get the all clear from the docs, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “But—”

  “I mean it,” Dale growled. “Much as I like seeing your bare arse, you’re not well enough to leave.”

  Bare arse? Ben had no clue what Dale was talking about until he glanced down and realized he was wearing a hospital gown—one of those vile garments that left his back and assets flapping in the breeze.

  “I need to get back home,” Ben insisted, taking the mask off again. “Is there anything left?”

  Dale sighed, confirming Ben’s worst fears. Then he sat on the bed and took one of Ben’s hands. “The kitchen is destroyed, but the main house is nearly intact.”

  Ben swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that gathered, not wanting to break down in front of Dale. “How did it start? Was it arson?”

  Dale shook his head. “It’s too soon to tell. We’ve got to wait for the place to cool down before our investigators go in. You’ll have to find somewhere else to live while the power is off. Your staff, who are amazing, are handling everything.”

  “Okay.” Did anyone need him? Ben took a deep breath, which hurt like hell all the way down his lungs. “I need to be there.”

  “You need to stay put,” Dale said. “Everyone is fine, Ben, okay? You’re the only one who was hurt.”

  “Oh.” Ben knuckled at his eyes and wished he hadn’t, as they stung fiercely. “I’ll have to check into a hotel if the power is off.”

  Carefully, as though he didn’t want to frighten a skittish animal, Dale brushed the back of Ben’s hand with his lips. “Come stay with me for a few days.”

  “I don’t want to bother you,” Ben said.

  “Don’t be daft. You’re welcome to stay.”

  Ben breathed a sigh of relief at not having to worry for a while until a thought occurred to him. “What will the village say?”

  “Who cares?” Dale snapped. “Let the gossips talk. They all know about us. Most of them are just worried about you.”

  “I need to go home first.”

  Dale nodded. “When you’re released.”

  Ben yawned, but he was determined to stay awake. “When are the doctors going to spring me?”

  As if on cue, a woman walked in the room, an older woman dressed in scrubs whom Ben knew very well.

  “Evening, Lord Calminster. Glad to see you’re awake.” She scowled at Dale. “It would have been useful to know.”

  “It’s been five minutes,” Dale protested.

  “Leave him alone, Margie,” Ben said wearily.

  “That’s Doctor Margie to you,” she said. “I brought you into the world, remember?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ben could see the surprise on Dale’s face. “Dale, meet Dr. Margaret Holmes. She’s my family doctor. So, Doctor Margie, are you going to let me go?”

  “Don’t jump fences, young man. You’ve inhaled lord knows what, and your condition could deteriorate. We want to keep an eye on you overnight.”

  “But I need to get back home,” Ben protested, but Doctor Margie refused to have any of it. Even arguing sapped the little strength Ben possessed. He lay back on thin pillows and yawned.

  “Just rest. We’ll see you get home as soon as possible.” She frowned at Dale. “It’s time you went home. You’ve had a busy day today. Did you tell him what you did?”

  Ben was so desperate for them to leave, he almost missed what Doctor Margie said. “What did you say?”

  “You mean he didn’t tell you?” Margie grinned at them both. “Your fireman is the one who rescued you.”

  Ben stared at her and then turned to Dale. “Really?”

  Dale reddened, obviously embarrassed. “It’s my job.”

  “You saved my life?”

  “I got you out of the Hall,” Dale said.

  Margie snorted. “He threw you over his shoulder.”

  Ben was gutted. He’d been rescued by a fireman—his fantasy for his entire life—and he’d been unconscious throughout
the whole thing. “I don’t remember it at all.”

  “Never mind, Lord Calminster,” Margie said. “I’m sure he’d do a reenactment if you ask nicely.”

  Ben squinted at her sourly. “Haven’t you got someone else to annoy?”

  Dale smirked at him. “I’m sure I can be persuaded to throw you over my shoulder when you’re well enough.”

  With his doctor in the room—she’d slapped his arse when he was born, for heaven’s sake—Ben refused to catch Dale’s gaze. Margie’s smirk was bigger than Dale’s, but Ben ignored them both. He yawned, but that sent shooting pains down his throat.

  Margie frowned and spent the next few minutes examining him. Ben made a token protest about all the fuss and attention, but he was too tired to care.

  Dale stayed by his side as Margie checked him over, his fingers resting lightly on Ben’s arm. He closed his lids just for a moment, because keeping his eyes open was too much like hard work.

  BEN heard voices, and Dale speaking, but waking up enough to open his eyes was a struggle. He yawned a couple of times and blinked.

  “He’s stirring.” Mrs. Wilson patted his hand. “Hello, Mr. Ben. Good to see you awake.”

  “Did you start the party without me?” he rasped. Ben took a while to get out the sentence, his throat was so raw.

  Dale pushed the hair back from Ben’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. No. Ask me later.” Ben had no clue just how he felt.

  “It’s okay.”

  Ben started to cough.

  Dale slipped his arm around Ben and supported him. Pain racked Ben’s chest, and he was relieved when he finally stopped enough to drawn in another breath. Dale eased Ben onto the pillow and then stood back as a nurse came into the room.

  “I think his lordship needs to rest,” she said.

  Mrs. Wilson nodded, and Colson helped her to her feet. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to be home tomorrow,” Ben insisted; then he coughed again.