What Rosie Found Next

by Helen J Rolfe

  She tried to stop her hand shaking as she poured the juice.

  ‘I leave in three days,’ he added.

  The bitterness of the juice lingered on her tongue. Was this for the best? Would this help her to do the right thing, to take her life in the safe direction she’d always hoped for?

  Instead of her hand reaching for the cello bridge on her necklace, her fingers went to the ring on her fourth finger. Her fingers had swollen in the heat and the ring wouldn’t move. It felt as though it was getting even tighter.

  Owen said nothing more about London, and when he left for the fire station, Rosie sat on the sofa as the Ducati rumbled away. She drew her knees up to her chin. The Christmas tree lights were switched off, the air conditioner hummed gently and George jumped up to keep her company. The love and attention from the feline nuzzling against her hand and fighting for attention was enough to make the tears fall. The problem with mapping your life out so carefully was that when goalposts moved, the entire game changed.

  She lay on the sofa and George curled up beside her. A murky sky rolling over Magnolia Creek mesmerised her as she thought about Adam, her engagement and her new place to live. She thought about Owen, too. And after she’d checked the FireReady app to ensure the grassfires were still some distance away, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, knowing exactly what she had to do.

  *

  Rosie’s iPhone trilled beside her on the coffee table, and with George still heavily ensconced against her on the sofa, she tried to reach out without disturbing him.

  ‘Did I wake you?’ It was Owen.

  ‘I dozed off on the sofa.’ A faint whiff of smoke hung in the air and when she looked outside the sky was a deeper, spookier grey than before. ‘Where are you? I can barely hear you.’ George jumped off the sofa when she sat up. She pushed one finger into the ear without the phone so she could hear him better.

  ‘Rosie, there’s a big fire front ten kilometres away from Magnolia Creek.’ He spoke concisely, not wasting a second. ‘I’m on the scene now. I was instructed to take a break, grab water and rehydrate, so thought I’d call.’

  ‘Is it coming this way?’

  ‘It’s holding for now, but we’re close to sounding the siren in Magnolia Creek.’

  Rosie’s nails dug into her bare leg. The siren only sounded if the town needed to evacuate. There hadn’t been an incident here for years. This couldn’t be happening.

  Her dad’s face flashed in her mind, the sound of a bow being pulled across cello strings rung in her ears.

  ‘Rosie? Rosie?’ Owen shouted at her down the phone.

  Her voice came out small. ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘Rosie, the siren is the last stage before the town evacuates.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You need to leave sooner rather than later. Fire can take hold quickly and the last thing you want to be doing is getting caught in it, or unable to leave. Please, go to Tom and Sadie’s – their address is on the post-it beside the bushfire plan. Or go to your mum’s, wherever you’d be more comfortable.’ She heard him exhale. ‘Rosie, just get out of there.’

  ‘But—’

  He ignored her pleas. ‘Turn right at the end of Lakeside Lane and you’ll be driving away from it. That road will take you towards the city.’

  The sky outside was filled with a haunting grey. Paralysed by fear, it was as though someone had dropped a great weight on each of her legs, rendering it impossible to move.

  ‘Rosie!’ Owen yelled again.

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘I’ve got to go. We’re hoping the fire won’t reach Magnolia Creek, but this is the worst I’ve ever seen it. Get out now, Rosie.’ When she said nothing, he said, ‘Not in ten minutes time. Get out now!’

  She heard him breathe down the phone, reluctant to hang up until he knew she’d heard him right. She snapped to attention, her legs hoisting her upwards. ‘Do you have a pet carrier for George?’

  He told her where to find one and thankfully George didn’t bolt at the sight of it. She ran upstairs and shoved valuables and a few clothes into an overnight bag. She grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door, and with the bag slung over her shoulder and the pet carrier in the other arm, she pulled open the front door.

  The air was thicker with smoke than she’d realised as she ran to the car. The fires seemed to be trying to wrap the entire town in a suffocating blanket, and she coughed as she climbed into the back seat to fix the pet carrier in place by threading the seat belt through the plastic handle. She squeezed out of the car again and leapt into the front seat, started the engine of the Hubba and turned on the lights to find her way through smoke billowing all around. Her dad’s voice rang in her ears. It told her to stay calm, drive carefully, to stay safe.

  But Rosie wasn’t ready. She was far from it. She burst into tears, just as she’d done once when she’d been stuck on a zip wire at the park, too scared to drop as the gap felt too high off the ground. She’d cried until her dad had come and rescued her. The other kids had been jeering, telling her she was a scaredy-cat, a chicken; her dad had wrapped his arms around her legs and lifted her out of harm’s way.

  She looked out at the steel sky, quiet in its threat, and at the orange glow in the distance that shocked her so much she almost couldn’t breathe. She heard Adam’s voice on Christmas day, his excitement over the apartment he’d bought for them and the proposal on his lips when he’d asked her to marry him. He was going to be so hurt when she told him she’d changed her mind, when she told him he wasn’t the man for her.

  She slumped against the steering wheel and shut her eyes. Fire had robbed her of her father, and she wasn’t about to let it take anything else away. Her fist thumped the leather once, twice, three times, four times. ‘No, no, no, no!’ Her voice grew louder with every shout until she looked up, revved the engine into life and prepared to fight. This couldn’t be her time. All the playing it safe couldn’t ultimately lead to this, could it?

  The evacuation siren was sounding now, over and over, the noise whirring round and round in her head as she drove away. Away from danger, away from Owen Harrison.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The oppressive heat beneath Owen’s yellows came from the radiant heat of the fires and the heavy clothing. His feet felt swollen and smoke stung at his eyes. The incident controller already had an understanding of the combined effects of fuel, weather and topography, and his voice rumbled on air thick with smoke and flying embers. The fire was spreading fast with plenty of hectares of unburnt land remaining. The meagre rainfall of the season had done a poor job at dampening down the dry grasses beneath the punishing Australian sun, and with temperatures well into the forties today, the threat to Magnolia Creek was imminent.

  Despite fuel breaks dug into the edges of the surrounding fields, the flames were leaping those with the help of the wind speed and putting the town in jeopardy. His strike team was instructed to head to the eastern flank as another crew took the western flank. They were to launch a direct attack on the fire to try to stop it reaching the town.

  Wearing goggles, gloves and a dust mask, memories of Black Saturday were very much in the forefront of Owen’s mind as he met thick black ash that blocked the sun and the eerie orange glow as the flames beat down so close to him and the rest of the crew. He thought about Rosie. Had she listened to him and left the house? He hoped she wasn’t one of those people who intrepidly stayed on at their property, convinced the danger would pass. He wondered whether George was with her too or whether she was still standing out on the back deck trying to coax the bloody cat inside. He’d done that plenty of times himself.

  Fighting away the terror at the thought of her being so damned determined not to let an animal perish that she’d sacrifice her own safety, he boarded the second tanker as three lined up and headed down to the eastern flank of the fire. The sky that greeted them there was as bad as his memories of Black Saturday. The driver yelled at the crew to destroy the fenc
ing around the land they needed to access in order to get the trucks through. Owen jumped down as they slowed, and using wire cutters he tore the fence apart bit by bit, helped by Sonia, a fellow CFA volunteer.

  Visibility was atrocious as the truck ploughed on. Adrenalin pumped through every crevice in Owen’s body and all of his senses were on high alert, ready for instruction, ready to take the initiative as he and every member of the crew constantly regauged the seriousness of the fire. Owen’s eyes darted left, right, up, down, watching for dangerous embers to catch before they were carried on the wind and out of his control. As the truck moved he blasted the flames with the hose, determined not to let the fire that ravaged with the finer fuel of grass beat them. This sort of fire was capable of travelling up to sixty kilometres per hour in open grassland, and any change to the wind speed would increase the threat, carrying the fire over to nearby towns.

  Owen’s fear escalated when the team got the call that the fire had reached Magnolia Creek. The siren had been sounded long ago.

  The truck headed that way, and as they came into Magnolia Creek he felt as though he was about to pass out. The roads were clear all the way to town, but flying embers had started a new attack here, starting with Finnegan’s café.

  Bella.

  *

  Rosie drove some twenty kilometres out of Magnolia Creek and pulled in at a petrol station where she glugged back a bottle of water and sat in the back seat with George, stroking him when she opened the carrier and he immediately leapt onto her lap as though he understood the mutual need for comfort.

  She knew then that she was safe, but as she sat there talking to the cat like some crazy lady, she snapped. Owen wasn’t out of danger, not at all, and she’d left him up there. And no matter how much she heard his voice telling her ‘Stevens, I’m man enough to look after myself’, she couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.

  And so an hour after she’d realised she was going to be just fine, she started up the Hubba and drove back. Back to Magnolia Creek.

  *

  Owen barely let the fire truck come to a standstill before he leapt out and ran straight towards the café. The sound of glass exploding from the force of the flames had him ducking for cover. He’d not heard Bella on the radio waves from the fire station or heard her name mentioned by any crew tonight. Did that mean she was still upstairs in the café? Rodney wasn’t on the team tonight, he was out of town, but had Bella done the sensible thing and left?

  Owen lifted a foot and booted open the front door to the café, using the TIC to detect any movement inside. Along with Gus and two other colleagues, he entered the café. He headed towards the stairs in case the woman who had been there for him his entire life was trapped on the floor above, but a flaming part of the ceiling came crashing down in front of him, blocking his path. And then it was like a Jenga game as bit by bit the entire ceiling gave way. Gus pulled Owen from the café as the other firefighters ran for their lives, and he held Owen back when he tried to go back in there.

  Owen yelled Bella’s name at the top of his voice, shouting towards the top window as the flames took hold and the sides of the café folded inwards like a collapsed cardboard box.

  ‘Fuck! No!’ Owen’s face jerked away from the fierce flames and his body was starting to wilt under the intense heat and pressure. He yanked off his BA gear and then turned and vomited in the gutter.

  It was a scene of devastation and he watched on, helpless as other members of the crew fought the flames until all that remained was a black, charcoal shell full of debris. Tears stung at his eyes. The rest of the crew were fighting the flames that attacked the bush framing the road towards Lakeside Lane. Embers must’ve jumped and picked their victims, grabbing them quickly and taking hold.

  Owen’s mind was anywhere but the job. His mind was on Bella and whether she’d made it out on time. His mind was on Rosie and whether she’d driven away from danger before she’d been overcome with smoke or trapped by the fire.

  Two helicopters rose in the air and dumped water on the edge of the fire to get a lead on beating the flames, and Owen tried to stifle the persistent cough as bile rose and he vomited again.

  ‘Owen, you’re no use to anyone if you cook yourself.’ It was Bella.

  He threw his arms around her and she clung onto him.

  ‘Oh God, Bella. I thought …’

  Tears filled her eyes when she spoke. ‘I only came back today – spent Christmas at my in-laws – and I went straight to the fire station but Niamh had everything under control there.’

  ‘I didn’t hear you on the radio.’

  ‘Like I said, Niamh had everything under control. I’m sorry to have worried you.’

  ‘I’m sorry about the café.’ They both looked at the hopeless scene before them. ‘Thank God you weren’t there when the embers attacked.’

  ‘I’m feeling very lucky right now.’ She managed a smile. ‘And it’s bricks and mortar, Owen. We’ll rebuild. We’re all safe, that’s the main thing.’

  She handed him a drink containing electrolytes. It was revolting but necessary. She passed him another bottle of water that he poured over his head, saturating his hair and cooling the throbbing sensation in his temples.

  Owen knew he couldn’t go anywhere to check on Rosie while the fire still raged. He had to put others first before he could get to her. He pulled on his head gear yet again and took over from Gus, who had been pulled out due to his body temperature being too high.

  It took another hour and a half to bring the fire in town under control. Sometimes it felt as though all they were doing was stopping the fire from spreading, making no headway at all with the bulk of it. Flames had spread right to the entrance of Lakeside Lane, and had Owen’s team reached the scene minutes later, the fire could’ve travelled down the roadside and taken his parents’ house with it. Magnolia Creek had escaped danger for now, but there was still a risk over the next day or so that flying embers could start spot fires. They’d need to be vigilant, but he prayed the worst was over.

  Right now his concern was Rosie. As he’d fought the fire, he’d made a deal with himself that as soon as they beat this thing, he’d tell her everything. He’d tell her everything before he left for the UK. He had to tell her before she went off and married Adam, before she felt she was in so deep that she couldn’t change anything. And if she walked away, then he would just have to accept that.

  *

  As Rosie neared Magnolia Creek, the car started to smell of smoke which found its way through any tiny gap it could. She couldn’t see any violent orange in the air, which had to be a good sign, right?

  She peered over the steering wheel like an old age pensioner terrified of driving, winding her way along the roads that lead to the main street. Her phone bleeped next to her to indicate an incoming text message and she snatched it up, anxious to know whether Owen was okay, whether Magnolia Creek would survive this.

  Her heart sank when she read a message from Adam to say his flight was cancelled and he was holed up in a hotel. She stared at the phone, gutted it hadn’t been a message from Owen. When she looked up she saw a bend in the road. A bend she hadn’t expected. And she was heading straight for the bushes and trees in front of her.

  She slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel, but the only sound for miles was no longer the evacuation siren. It was the sound of metal crunching, glass smashing.

  And her world went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Owen dumped his gear and yellows at the fire station. He phoned Rosie’s mobile but no answer. He phoned Tom, but Tom hadn’t heard from her. He jumped onto the Ducati and made the short journey back to the house, blackness framing the road instead of the lush green beauty of the bush. Smoke hung in the air and clung to every part of him.

  When Owen neared the turn-off for Lakeside Lane, that was when he saw it. The Hubba.

  He almost lost control of the Ducati in his efforts to stop. Running towards the Hubba he called out her n
ame. He could see Rosie, her hair unmistakable, the air bag deployed in front of her. He pulled at the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He looked around and found the biggest rock he could at the side of the road and smashed the passenger window. Pulling his leather jacket over his hand he pushed away the glass and reached through to open it from the inside.

  ‘Rosie, Rosie … can you hear me?’

  She couldn’t.

  He leant close to her and felt her breath on his face. ‘Oh, Rosie. Please be okay, please.’ He daren’t move her.

  George mewed from the backseat, still intact in his carrier. ‘She’ll be okay, George, you’ll see.’

  She was breathing, but he didn’t know how bad this was. Her internal injuries could be massive. Blood was trickling down the side of her face, coagulating in her hair. He called the ambulance and held her hand as they waited. He’d never forgive himself for not being there for her. Never.

  In the ambulance Rosie slipped in and out of consciousness. Owen coughed and spluttered for most of the journey from the smoke inhalation and the panic he’d felt. Rosie wrapped her fingers around his when he touched her hand, she said his name. But then she also said Adam’s. She was confused, out of it, and he was desperate to talk to her.

  He leaned closer when she tried to speak again. ‘Don’t talk, not now,’ he said.

  She tried again and he made out the words ‘came back’.

  Came back where?

  At the hospital the doctors insisted they examine him, but he’d refused to let them until he knew the situation with Rosie. She was stable, they told him, and he’d relented. And when they were giving him the once over, he realised what Rosie had meant in the ambulance. ‘Came back’, she’d said. She must’ve left Magnolia Creek and come back. Had she come back for him?

  He looked at her, sleeping now right there in front of him. He desperately wanted her to wake up. He wanted to tell her how he felt, find out if he’d imagined the feelings were reciprocated.