Owen pointed the Thermal Imaging Camera straight ahead. The thick smoke made it impossible to see anything without the device that read heat signatures and indicated vital information, including the source of the fire and anybody who may be trapped inside. He moved cautiously through the corridor, turning the TIC left and right, searching quickly but thoroughly, glad he knew the layout of the place already thanks to the previous two false alarms.
The fire was confined, for the moment, to the side of the venue where a second kitchen was located. He moved left from the corridor and as he turned, patches of red showed on the TIC and led him to a person trapped inside. The body was curled up on the floor at the side of the room, but the camera showed movement. Thoughts of Rosie ricocheted through his mind as he panned the camera to rule out danger from the heat sources shown beyond the victim’s position. The flash hoods they were required to wear made what was almost audible damn near impossible to hear, and he used hand gestures and yelling to tell Gus to take over the TIC so he could step forwards and rescue whoever it was lying there.
Owen took only seconds to reach the victim and haul them to standing. With every step he took he cradled the person’s weight, every step towards their escape pounding in his ears that this could be Rosie. He exhaled hard into his BA, determined not to let panic get the better of him.
The second he stepped outside, paramedics took the victim from his arms and sounds of his own breathing filled his ears. Owen’s job was to get back and help Gus now, watch his back. But he had to know. He had to know if it was Rosie. His breathing came in rasps despite the BA and sounded eerily Darth-Vader like.
He rushed to the ambulance. He saw the victim’s face. It wasn’t her.
And now he still had a job to do.
Back inside, the TIC in Gus’s hands showed deep patches of red, which guided them towards the source of the fire. They fought it, watching one another’s’ backs the whole time, annihilating the angry orange flames and debris. Flames licked the walls and threatened to go higher, but it seemed they’d got here early enough to avoid the structure being brought helplessly to the ground.
The heat inside the head gear and clothing made Owen feel as though his entire body had been dropped into an incinerator as they worked tirelessly until it was confirmed the fire had lost this particular battle. Owen and Gus made their way outside. It was a walk of mere metres but felt so much longer. When he reached fresh air, Owen ripped off all his gear, throwing away the helmet that felt so heavy, the flash hood that made the blood inside his head boil, the rubber straps that held his entire head in a tight grip and triggered the hyperventilating.
‘Whoa. Easy there, mate.’ It was Gus, armed with bottled water. ‘Breathe.’
Owen shut his eyes and felt the breath struggling to get in and out of his body until he took control, refusing to let panic get the better of him. Gus coped with BA a lot better than he did, but Owen knew his own reaction today wasn’t only because of the restrictive gear. It was because of his personal involvement. He looked anxiously towards the front entrance of Magnolia House where a paramedic was shutting the double doors at the back of the ambulance. The victim could so easily have been Rosie. The victim could so easily have been a lot worse had they not found her quickly.
His breathing threatened round two of hyperventilation.
‘You okay, mate?’ Gus rested a hand on his shoulder.
Owen steadied his breathing again. ‘Who was it? Who was in there?’
‘It was Tilly, the new head chef.’
The ambulance sirens whirred into action and the ambulance crunched its way over the gravel.
Owen bent over, his hands on his knees.
‘She’s going to be fine,’ Gus assured him. ‘We saved her and Magnolia House. All in a day’s work, eh? Now take this.’ He handed Owen a bottle of water. ‘Drink it, mate, keep your fluids up.’
Owen slumped down on the gravel, his legs unable to take the weight of the day, the smell of smoke lining his nostrils and blackened soot clinging to every part of him. Even with all the headgear, the smoke had still got into his eyes, and he shut them and squeezed the bridge of his nose as he tried to let go of the fear he’d had inside him the whole time he was fighting the structure fire. He was proud of his position with the CFA, but it was moments like this that threatened to undo him. The adrenalin surge, the sheer terror, the physical demands of the job and the unpredictability were the reasons why he thrived on being a firefighter, but some days it was harder than others.
Owen took the water from Gus and filled his mouth with the liquid, holding it in his cheeks before he swallowed. He tipped the second half of it over his head, blinking as dirt ran from his hair to his temple and into his eyes.
‘Tilly told the ambos there was a bain-marie on the stove,’ Gus explained, giving him a second bottle of water. ‘It was forgotten about and covered with a tea towel, of all the stupid things. It must’ve caught on the flame beneath.’ Gus looked up at Magnolia House. ‘It’d break my heart if that place got destroyed. I got hitched there.’
Owen smiled. ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’
‘I’ll bet you haven’t. I seem to remember you got pretty friendly with Sharni, the maid of honour.’ Gus chuckled, light relief from the day. ‘I heard on the grapevine you told her from the start that it was no strings attached.’
Owen, glad of the reprieve from thinking emergency-fire-rescue, said, ‘I lay my cards on the table. I don’t lead women on.’
‘Fair point,’ said Gus. ‘Speaking of women, I met your Rosie the other day.’
Owen ran a hand through wet and grimy hair, willing his voice to stay steady. ‘She’s not “my” Rosie. She’s house-sitting, that’s all, and was nice enough not to turf me out.’
‘Well, whatever she is to you, mate, she’s a lovely girl. She’s not bad to look at either.’ He winked. ‘See you at the pub tonight?’
‘You’re on.’
Owen climbed into the truck, and as the others dissected the fire call, he zoned out, well aware that where Rosie was concerned he was in deeper than he was prepared to admit.
*
When Owen walked through the doors of the pub in the early evening, Rosie smiled. She took in his freshly-shaven jaw, the plain white T-shirt and jeans, the waft of a linen-fresh shower gel.
‘Well done this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I heard all about it.’
‘Good news travels fast.’ He grinned across the room at Gus, who had been recounting the drama to as many people as he could find and looked as though he was still doing so judging by his hand gestures to bring his audience into the moment.
The smell of smoke had pulled Rosie out to the front of the house earlier and she’d been greeted with grey clouds pluming in the distance. She’d leaned against the wall to steady herself, her legs weak at the threat of what could happen.
She cleared her throat now, talking to Owen. ‘I heard Tilly was in the building.’
‘She’s going to be fine, she was lucky.’
They watched one another for a moment, until, noticing the absence of a jacket and helmet, Rosie asked, ‘Where’s the bike?’
Before he could answer, Bella spotted him through the throng and she wrapped him in an enormous hug. She requested a Guinness for one of Magnolia Creek’s heroes. ‘Drinks are on me tonight, love.’
‘Thanks, sweetheart.’
Bella ruffled his hair in a mumsy way. ‘Sweetheart?’ Rosie asked, the pieces falling into place.
‘To outsiders I guess it sounds weird,’ he said. ‘But when I was a little boy she’d always ask “What are you, Owen?” and I’d answer “Bella’s little sweetheart”. Sounds daft, I know. When I grew up I was way too manly to be called such a name so I turned it around and started using the same name for Bella. I guess it kind of stuck.’
Rosie realised now that the night she’d thought he was answering a page from a woman when he’d shaken his head and muttered ‘Not tonight, sweetheart’, he’d actually b
een responding to a request from Bella. The skin on her neck tingled.
Owen thanked Bella for the Guinness and sipped the cream top. ‘I didn’t bring the bike tonight. I wanted to clear my head after today. And God knows I could use a drink.’
Owen’s tongue darted out to lick his lip free of the creamy froth, and Rosie tried not to stare. She hid behind a gulp of her own Merlot.
‘How long do you think it’ll be before Magnolia House reopens?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. They’ll have to clear up and then the building will need to be certified as safe.’ He took a sip of Guinness as Rosie’s phone bleeped with an incoming text. ‘Is it Adam?’
‘He just landed.’ But instead of his absence making Rosie’s heart grow fonder, it seemed her heart wanted nothing more than to wander off elsewhere, particularly with this man who spelt danger compared to the safe life she’d mapped out for herself.
Her life had reached a whole new level of complicated lately.
Bella swept in again and put an arm across Rosie’s shoulders. Then to Owen she said, ‘So who’s the mystery blond I saw you with yesterday?’
‘No mystery,’ he said. ‘That was Carrie.’
‘She’s nice,’ said Rosie who got the eye raise she’d predicted from Bella when she realised Owen had introduced this woman already.
‘I’ve met her,’ Rosie continued, stirring up trouble. ‘She lives in the city and wanted Owen to go back with her.’ She took a generous swig of Merlot. ‘But Owen doesn’t spend the night with women, do you?’ Oh dear, maybe she should’ve eaten more before she came out rather than the paltry slice of toast with butter. The alcohol was going to her head.
Bella hovered. ‘Go on, sounds an interesting story.’
Egged on by her audience, Rosie said, ‘Owen thinks spending the night with a woman would be leading her on and invite questions like “Where is this going?”’
‘What a load of old nonsense.’ Bella giggled. ‘That’s the poorest excuse I’ve heard in a long time for playing the field.’ She looked past Owen. ‘Excuse me. Rodney’s come in the door over the other side of the bar. I’ll go and grab him.’
When she went to look for her husband, Owen turned to Rosie. ‘It’d be great if you didn’t share quite so much of my personal life with the entire town.’
‘Bella’s a friend,’ she protested. ‘She’s your friend.’
‘True. But in many ways she’s more like a mother to me. She probably changed my nappies once upon a time.’
Rosie spluttered on her wine.
‘All I’m saying is that it’s like talking to my mum about my sex life.’ He fought a grin. ‘Would you want to talk to your mum about your habits with men, your behaviours?’
Rosie’s glass stopped on the way to her lips. ‘No, I wouldn’t. I’m sorry.’
‘Apology accepted.’ His eyes held hers, although they dropped to her lips a couple of times before Bella and Rodney came to join them.
Rodney and Owen went to play a round of darts and left Rosie alone with Bella.
‘So,’ Bella began, ‘what’s this Carrie really like? Is she good enough for Owen?’
She couldn’t lie. ‘She seemed lovely, but I didn’t talk to her much. Owen doesn’t share much about his personal life.’
‘You know, I don’t think Jane and Michael ever met any of his girlfriends.’
Somehow it didn’t surprise Rosie.
They changed the subject – Rosie’s doing – and chatted about Magnolia Creek. Bella told Rosie all about the snowfields come winter, the walking trails and the must-visit wineries of the Yarra Valley.
‘If you ever get a chance, take a flight in a hot air balloon,’ said Bella. ‘Rodney surprised me on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and it was such a thrill being so high up, soaring over the ranges.’
Rodney waved to Bella and Bella finished her drink. ‘I’d better go. It’s another early start in the morning for us. Don’t ever start your own business if you value your lie-ins.’ She hugged Rosie.
‘I bet you wouldn’t have it any other way.’ Rosie waved goodbye to them before nipping to the ladies, glowing at being a part of such a great community. It was like a family with no blood-ties, people who were close because they wanted to be. Her spirits only waned when she thought of the Harrisons’ return from overseas. She wasn’t sure whether she’d be able to find a rental property so nearby that she still felt a part of all this.
When Rosie emerged from the bathrooms, Owen was still playing darts, this time with Gus. She weaved through the crowd at the bar, but as she was about to sit at the table with the best view of the dartboard, she saw Carrie, her arm possessively tugging at Owen’s waist, the familiar laughter ringing out. And when Carrie planted a kiss on Owen’s lips, Rosie’s heart sank.
Oh well, time to leave.
She stepped outside into a warm evening with a light breeze on the air. It gently lifted her hair as she walked away from the pub beneath a sky that had carefully fallen across the trees but still allowed the moon to emerge from its hiding place. Doubts about Adam had surfaced over the last couple of days, but perhaps it would be best to get everything out in the open. She’d go home and FaceTime him, maybe even tell him all about the dream house on Daisy Lane. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave Australia. She needed to make him hear what she was saying.
Streetlamps lit the way along the high street for the first part of the walk, but when Rosie left the stretch of shops the lamps were scant. The moon seemed to shrink behind the trees, unable to peep over, and when she heard a rustling in the bushes lining either side of the road she quickened her pace.
She was being paranoid, she was sure of it. She hesitated, wondering whether to turn back. She was less than a few hundred metres away from the pub. But the thought of playing the damsel-in-distress card with Carrie looking on was enough to persuade her to put one foot in front of the other and keep heading for home.
But then she heard another noise. And this time it was footsteps behind her.
Everything happened so quickly. One minute she was spinning round to see who it was, the next she was pushed to the ground. Her head cracked against the pavement and her purse was whipped from her hand.
She shielded her face with her arms. She felt a tightening around her neck, something digging into her skin, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to breathe again.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Have you seen Rosie?’ Owen asked Gus and then several others in the pub. He’d seen Bella and Rodney leave and then Carrie had appeared out of nowhere. When he’d finished the game of darts, he’d expected to see Rosie watching on, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
‘She must’ve left,’ said Carrie. ‘Let me drop you home, you look beat.’ Her hand sneaked around his waist and her fingers tucked into the rear pocket of his jeans. He knew she’d been shaken up by meeting Rosie the other day, and why wouldn’t she be? Rosie was an attractive girl, and the fact she clearly had no idea this was the case made her even more appealing.
‘I’d like the walk.’ He planted a kiss on her cheek, saw her to her car, and then set off on the short walk home, past Finnegan’s, past the gift shop.
He hoped Rosie wasn’t in bed yet. He’d assumed they’d carry on chatting after he’d played darts. He’d envisaged having one of those evenings where they lost track of time and talked into the early hours of the morning until it was impossible to keep their eyes open any longer. He was beginning to realise that his reasons for being at the house had changed somewhat. Over the last couple of weeks he’d continued his search, snatching moments here and there to go into the roof space, rummage through laundry cupboards, go through the shed in case he’d missed something. But whatever evidence there may have once been, it had clearly been destroyed so that he could never find out what was being kept from him.
And now, he had no reason to be in Magnolia Creek or at the house any more. No reason, that was, apart from Rosie.
/> He turned the corner, and as he passed beneath the second streetlamp, he stopped at the sound of muffled crying.
It took seconds for his vision to adjust to the dark, and that was when he saw her.
Slumped on the ground, Rosie had blood running from her knee and she tugged at her dress to cover herself.
‘My God, what happened?’ He hoisted her up to standing. Blood ran down one side of her face from a cut to her head, and she was clasping her neck.
‘He took it,’ she sobbed.
‘Slow down, breathe.’ He held her close and she leant against him as his arms enveloped her.
‘He took my necklace.’
‘You’re okay, that’s the main thing. Anything taken can be replaced.’
Rosie pulled back, brown eyes wide. But before she could speak, her legs buckled beneath her and he caught her in his arms.
‘I need to get you home,’ he said, helping her to stand upright again. Thank God he’d walked tonight. If he’d been on the bike, he wouldn’t have heard the crying and he probably wouldn’t have seen her either. Who knew what else could’ve happened to her.
She put her arm round Owen’s waist and tugged at his T-shirt, trying to grab a hold of him. He wrapped one arm across her shoulders and the other around her front, gripping her forearm, leaving her in no danger of falling as they staggered the rest of the way home.
Back at the house he settled her onto the sofa. ‘I think I’ve twisted my knee,’ she said.
‘I’ll call the police and then I’ll get you an ice pack.’ He touched her hair lightly and winked at her, and once he’d made the call he wrapped an ice pack in a tea towel and crouched down to place it to her knee. She winced. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’ She relaxed back against the sofa as the ice began to soothe, but when her hair fell away from her neck, he dropped the ice pack.
‘Bloody hell, Rosie.’ He reached up and pulled the rest of her hair out of the way to reveal the red, raw marks where her necklace had once been. ‘If I ever find out who did this, I’ll—’
What Rosie Found Next Page 13