The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street

by Rachel Dove

  She looked again at her sleeping son and brushed a tear away. Today was going to be one of those days, where it would end better than it began. She turned her phone over, took out the SIM Card from the back and snapped it in half. Just looking down at the pieces of plastic and metal made her feel better. She brushed them into her pocket, and settled back down to read her book. At least in the pages of this story, there would be a happy ever after. She never noticed the man across watching her with interest, and a flexed jaw.

  Chapter 3

  Marlene stood on the train platform, shuffling from foot to foot, checking her watch and then checking it again when she realised she hadn’t even registered the time. Dot and Grace were sitting on the metal bench nearby; Grace knitting away, Dot tapping on her phone.

  ‘It’s late. What if she never got on it?’

  Grace didn’t look up, swapping needles over in her arms and flicking the multicoloured wool in her bag to allow more of it to escape.

  ‘She got on it. The trains are always bloody late, calm down. You’ll have no shoe leather left. You’ll look like a knackered old tyre by the time you’re done.’

  ‘I’m worried! I can’t help it. Dot, what time do you make it?’

  Dot looked at the platform clock and checked her own watch. ‘Eleven twenty-seven, dear. My clock is still the same as yours.’

  ‘And every other bloody clock in the land,’ Grace griped. ‘We share time you know, it won’t pass any quicker looking at the blasted thing.’

  ‘Oh shut up, Grace, go back to your knitting!’ Marlene snapped. ‘Why did you even come if you aren’t going to be helpful?’

  Grace’s needles clacked away, and she let out a little sigh.

  ‘I came to support you, and to stop you getting arrested by station security. You look like a bloody nutter, running a track into the platform. She’ll be here when she’s here, same as the rest of the train. It’s an eighteen-minute delay, not the end of time for God’s sake!’

  Marlene glared at Grace, and her friend eyeballed her from the top of her glasses, shoving her middle finger up the bridge of her nose pointedly and returning it to her knitting. Marlene gasped, and Dot groaned.

  ‘Up yours eh!? Well, the same to you, Grace. Dot, tell her!’

  ‘Dot, tell her!’ Grace mimicked, her needles picking up speed with her fury. ‘You need to chill out. That poor girl is going to get off that train and jump straight back on it looking at you. Knock it off!’

  ‘Oh shut your face!’ Marlene boomed, startling a man walking out onto the platform.

  ‘Shut both your faces!’ Dot screeched, standing and pushing Marlene into the seat she had vacated. Grace and Marlene hissed at each other and had a mini elbowing fight, Grace being the victor by jabbing her knitting needle into Marlene’s thigh.

  ‘Oww! Bugger off!’ Marlene shouted, trying to grapple the needle away from her. Her hand caught in the strand of wool, and started to unravel the stitching.

  Grace growled furiously, slapping Marlene’s hand, making her reel back with a startled yip.

  ‘Watch my blessed knitting, you ham-fisted old tart!’

  Dot ran to the pair, pushing her hands in between them.

  ‘Ladies, for chuff’s sake, pack it in!’

  Bing bong. The Tannoy sprang to life, stopping the sparring ladies in their tracks.

  ‘The delayed train from London King’s Cross is now arriving on Platform 2. Can all passengers please stand well back.’

  Dot sagged with relief.

  ‘Thank Christ for that.’

  Marlene and Grace both jumped up, ready to greet the newcomers.

  The train trundled to a stop on the platform, and the doors swished open.

  ‘Can you see her?’ Grace asked, putting her arm around Marlene, their fight long forgotten.

  ‘No, you?’

  Grace peered into the carriages as they moved along the platform, but the windows were tinted, making it difficult. A train employee stepped out, paddle in hand, and then the commuters started to disembark.

  ‘Dot, you see anything?’

  Dot stood open-jawed next to them, looking at something a little way down the train. She nudged Grace, who followed her gaze. Marlene was still looking frantically, Grace pulling on her arm.

  ‘What Grace, give up? What?’

  Grace tutted and, reaching across, she grabbed Marlene by the jaw and showed her what they were looking at.

  Down the platform, just getting off the train, was a man. Well, they assumed it was a man, not a mirage, but, sometimes, it was hard to tell the difference. Grace dropped her needles and they clattered to the floor with a metallic tinkle.

  ‘What, I ask you, is that?’ she asked, licking her lips slowly.

  Dot shook her head slowly, her eyes out on stalks. ‘I don’t know, but I want one.’

  Marlene, slack-jawed, babbled twice before muttering, ‘It’s Bruce Willis, I tell you. Or that other guy, the Statham guy, what’s he called?’

  Grace giggled. ‘Who cares what he’s called, where did he come from?’

  The three women watched as the man put down a suitcase and oversized holdall, and swept back onto the train, dipping his head as he walked back through the doors. A minute later, dressed in a long coat and jeans, he stepped back down off the train, more luggage in hand. A woman and a small boy followed, the woman taking the bag from him.

  ‘Figures,’ Dot whined. ‘A man like that, had to be taken.’

  ‘Lucky cow,’ Grace moaned, looking down at her forgotten knitting. ‘Bollocks, I dropped my jumper.’

  She bent to pick it up, and Marlene practically leap-frogged over her.

  ‘It’s Lucy! She’s here!’

  Marlene half ran, half trotted like a pony, over to the trio, and patted the woman excitedly on the shoulder.

  ‘Lucy dear, is it you?’

  Lucy turned around and smiled broadly, throwing one of her arms around her beloved aunt.

  ‘Auntie Marlene, hello!’ Marlene threw her arms around her, hugging her tight. Over her shoulder, she saw the Adonis they were ogling earlier, standing a little way back with the bags.

  ‘Did you have a nice journey?’ She pulled back, looking at her niece. She looked tired and drawn. She didn’t let her face betray her worry for her niece. A pair of little eyes fixed on her, and she looked at the little boy, holding his mother’s hand so tightly. He was looking around him as though he was fighting the urge to run off.

  ‘Hello, my darling,’ she said softly, bending down to look the youngster in the face. ‘Shall we go to the car?’

  Xander looked at her, his headphones making him look all the younger, and smiled slowly, nodding his head. Dot and Grace came up behind them, pointing to the bags.

  ‘These all yours?’ Grace asked. Or rather, she asked the crotch of the rather tall bald man guarding them.

  He nodded politely, pointing at two of them.

  ‘These are theirs, I just helped. You need a hand to your car?’

  Lucy shook her head, and opened her mouth to say no, but the women had already gone, cooing around the bloke that she had just spent two hours trying to avoid.

  ‘You are lovely!’ Dot simpered, reaching up and touching the man’s arm. ‘Ooo, have you felt this, Grace?’ She squeezed his bicep, and Sam blushed.

  Lucy looked down at Xander, and he giggled at her.

  ‘Come on then, let’s go sort these ladies out before they rip his pants off.’

  Xander gasped, a shocked expression on his face. ‘That’s not allowed in public, you told me!’

  Lucy laughed, cursing herself for not watching her phrasing.

  ‘It’s just a saying, that’s all, love. Sorry. They won’t touch his pants. Let’s go, shall we?’ She squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back, their little nod to each other. Their comfort to each other when out and about in the world. I’m here, it said to the other.

  They walked towards their cases, but Sam had seen them coming, and picked up t
heir holdall.

  ‘I can take your bags,’ he stated, throwing the holdall over his shoulder with his own and taking the case handle in his hand with his own in the other.

  ‘No, it’s fine, I can manage.’

  The women were all flocked around him, rapture on their faces. Lucy wanted to slap the lot of them. What was it about him that had made them lose their mind like this? Sam paid them no notice, he was standing there, laden down, looking at her in his own quiet way. She felt naked under his gaze, like he could read her thoughts, and she swallowed hard. Why didn’t he say anything? What was in that lofty head of his?

  ‘I didn’t say you couldn’t manage. I have them. I’ll see you to your car.’

  The ladies sprang into action then, and she found herself being pulled along, Xander stuck to her leg. They left Leeds station, heading through the crowds of suits and shoppers, Sam a way in front, carrying their combined luggage with ease. Grace and Dot went on in front, heading towards the car park, and, once there, they both got into two different cars.

  Marlene turned to her and smiled kindly. ‘We took two cars, because we all wanted to come. See you, and help you.’ She looked at Xander, who was looking at Sam, who was putting their luggage into one of the car boots. ‘Are you okay?’ she said lightly, looking at Lucy intently. She smiled faintly, a little movement of the head barely identifiable.

  ‘We will be.’ Marlene squeezed her shoulder, and the two women looked at each other for a moment, happy to be near each other finally. Sam turned to look at them, a frown across his features, and Marlene noticed.

  ‘Nice man, isn’t he?’ she said softly.

  ‘Yes, I dare say he is.’ Lucy noticed that he was putting his own case into the back of the other car. ‘What is he doing?’ Her voice came out shrill, panicked, and Xander looked up at her, picking up on the change instantly. She squeezed his hand to signal that she was okay.

  She looked at her aunt just quickly enough to catch a sheepish look passing over her face.

  ‘Auntie?’ she tried again, but Marlene had already taken Xander’s hand and started off towards the car. To his credit, Xander didn’t make a fuss.

  ‘I’ll take Xander with me, you get in with Grace. Come on, Xander. Let’s get home, and then we can make some lunch, eh?’ Xander looked back at his mum questioningly, so she just smiled and waved him off.

  ‘See you there, honey. Make sure you put your seatbelt on.’

  The others got into the car, and drove off, leaving Sam standing by Grace’s car. Grace was seemingly busy playing with the radio.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind – your friends didn’t really give me the option of refusing. I was going to get a taxi, but apparently we’re heading the same way.’

  Lucy nodded, pointing to the front seat.

  ‘I don’t mind at all. Please.’

  He shook his head, taking off his coat.

  ‘I’ll be fine in the back. You go ahead.’

  He opened the door, and folded his tall frame into the back seat, his coat on his lap. She walked around to the other side of the car, opening the passenger side door. Grace’s large bag was strapped into the seat.

  ‘Sorry, love, I like to have my bag close, for my pills.’ She winked at Lucy, and Lucy blushed. Subtle.

  ‘Okay, no problem.’ She forced her face into a relaxed expression, even though she was utterly embarrassed. The rear door opened, and she saw Sam’s hand pull back onto his lap.

  ‘Thank you.’ She slipped into the seat next to him, putting her handbag onto her lap.

  ‘Please, use the middle seat. Don’t sit with your bag on you, all squashed up. There’s plenty of room.’

  She eyed him, but saw the same calm expression. He was hard to read. She slid the bag off her lap and put it in the space between them.

  ‘So, what brings you to Westfield then?’ Grace asked brightly, pulling out of the train station car park at speed, startling a passer-by as she weaved into the busy morning traffic. ‘Meeting your wife?’

  Lucy winced, looking out of the window. She saw a pigeon eating some discarded food at the side of the road and suddenly wished she could change places with it. This pretty much felt like being pecked to death anyway.

  ‘Er, no wife.’ Sam’s deep tones filled the car. ‘I’m here for work.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ She turned the wheel abruptly, flicking from lane to lane, heading out of Leeds city centre. Lucy’s bag lurched forward, and she put her hand out to grab it, instead touching Sam’s doing the same. They both yanked their hands back as the touch of each other burned like fire. He pushed her bag back along the seat.

  ‘I got it,’ he murmured, and she smiled at him gratefully.

  ‘So, have you got a girlfriend back home? Is she coming to join you? Or a him, maybe?’

  ‘No, no girlfriend or boyfriend anywhere. It’s just me.’

  ‘No family?’ Grace pushed.

  Sam looked down at his hands, and Lucy cleared her throat.

  ‘Grace, what were you knitting, back on the platform?’

  Grace started babbling away, telling them both about the jumper drive that the village was currently embarking on, preparing for winter for the homeless.

  ‘We’re going to send them to the foodbanks, the homeless shelters. Amanda and a few of the other women are sewing blankets too, so we should have loads by the time the winter starts to bite.’

  She eyed Sam in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘About a forty chest, aren’t you, Sam?’

  Sam looked shocked, but soon recovered.

  ‘Er yes, good eye. You must know your knitting.’

  Grace chuckled, a mucky laugh that belied her years.

  ‘Aye, I know a good beefcake size when I see one.’

  ‘Dear Lord, kill me now,’ Lucy muttered to herself.

  ‘Take me with you if you do,’ Sam muttered back. They shared a look and both stifled a laugh.

  He is really cute, she thought to herself. Not my type at all, but I can see the attraction. He had long lashes, which reminded her of her son.

  She looked away, out of the window, and didn’t speak again until they reached the village of Westfield.

  Sam saw the fire station come into view, and leaned forward.

  ‘Here’s my stop, Grace, thank you for the lift again.’

  ‘It’s no bother, are you sure you’re okay here?’

  Sam nodded.

  ‘Yes, I’d like to say hello to the lads before I do anything else. Check everything’s okay.’

  Grace smiled approvingly.

  ‘Well, Mr Draper, we are lucky to have you.’

  He looked at her in surprise, and she winked.

  ‘It’s a small village, duck, nothing much passes us old bats here. Why do you think we took two cars?’

  He looked across at Lucy, but she was sound asleep.

  ‘Say goodbye to them for me?’ he asked, feeling foolish, and a little cheated that he didn’t get to tell her it himself. He wanted to see her again, feel her eyes on him.

  ‘I will, love. I’m sure you’ll see her soon enough.’

  As Sam watched the women drive off, he was pretty sure that Grace meant every word, and seemed to know that what she said would come true. He had a feeling that some of these villagers might be a bit of a handful. Throwing his holdall over his shoulder and grabbing his suitcase handle, he headed inside to the fire station to start his new career.

  Chapter 4

  Grace drove up the small lane where the holiday cottages sat like pearls threaded on a necklace. It was beautiful here, even more beautiful than Lucy remembered from her childhood. She used to come up here for long summers as a child, no bigger than her son was now. Not much had changed at all, and she felt happier just being here. Grace pulled the car in side by side with the other, and Lucy spotted Xander, sitting in the back seat, headphones on. No doubt he was watching his movie all over again. He seemed settled, so she got out of the car and headed up the path to the cottage with t
he wide open front door.

  The smell of fresh flowers assaulted her nostrils, and she looked around at the neat and gorgeous gardens. The cottages were in lines of twos, hugging each other in little couples along the small country lanes. There was no car next door in the little drive at the front of the house, and Lucy felt relieved that there would be no neighbours, for today at least. Marlene came out of the front door and, seeing her, grinned broadly.

  ‘Lucy dear, it’s lovely in here. Just the ticket for you both. I left Xander in the car, will he be okay?’

  Lucy looked at her son, who hadn’t moved a muscle.

  ‘He’ll be okay, he’ll come out when he wants to.’

  Marlene nodded, motioning for her to come inside. After walking past the blooming flowers that ran around the edges of the green grass in neat beds, she passed by a lavender bush by the front door, and walked through the painted mint green door. The smell of bleach hit her as she walked in, and she wasn’t surprised to see Marlene scrubbing the sink, Marigolds on, cloth in hand.