was late by the time Sam had eventually said goodbye to the lads at the fire station. As soon as he had walked through the door, the thought of the woman on the train fresh in his head, he had been dragged in and made to feel welcome. Chief Briggs was a burly man, his moustache the only tiny thing about him, a whisper of a thick bristle seemingly stencilled on his broad face.
Being lunchtime, the men were all sitting at the large scratched wood table, chatting and laughing away. Norman was at the stove, dishing out plates of hot chilli on baked potatoes. Sam’s stomach gurgled.
‘Come on in,’ Danesh said, pointing to a clear space at the table. ‘You eat meat, right?’
Alan patted him hard on the back.
‘A man this size? Of course he does!’
‘Er, actually no, I don’t. Not much anyway. More chicken, eggs. I tend to stay away from red meat.’
He waited for the usual explosion of what? why? how? but none came.
Alan shrugged. ‘Ah well, more for me, Dan!’ He took a seat at the head of the table, and Danesh placed a steaming plate in front of him. Danesh returned to the cooker, taking the lid off a different pot.
‘Here’s yours.’ He spooned some chilli onto a huge baked potato. ‘Meat free chilli, Norm’s spesh. It’s pretty good, but hold judgement till you’ve had it three times in one week.’ Norman jabbed him in the side, and he laughed.
‘Cheeky bugger, you love my cooking!’
Danesh groaned. ‘Love, really? It’s a strong word, Norm.’
Norman flicked his tea towel at Danesh as he headed to the table, putting a plate in front of Sam.
‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully, and Danesh sat down next to him.
‘So,’ Norman called, turning off the heat on the stove and coming to sit down. ‘What made you come up here from London?’
Sam took a bite of his food and his whole body embraced the flavour. Proper food for once.
‘Nice,’ he said to Norman, pointing to his plate. ‘I came for the job really, a change of pace.’
Danesh guffawed, slicing his potato up into smaller pieces.
‘Well, you’ll get that here, we don’t get much action. You must have seen some things in your time.’
Sam thought of the call-outs he had had recently, back home, and nodded slowly.
‘A few, yes. What have you got on today?’
‘We have the rigs to clean out, and the general station maintenance. We need to get things ready for the summer crowds, and the holiday lets will all need checking over. We do things differently up here, Sam, as you might have gathered from your shifts.’
Sam nodded once, not feeling the need to answer any further. He knew what the job was, and it suited him just fine, for now at least.
‘Agatha’s on the warpath again too; she’s coming down later. Something about the Langthwaite Farm and a bull.’
Norman groaned. ‘Christ, can’t she just call Ben at the veterinary surgery and get him on the case? The poor lad is obviously just trying to get his leg over; Old Man Langthwaite just needs to set him to work.’
Alan shook his head. ‘Reg has been showing him to the females, but the bull is just not interested. It keeps jumping the fences to get onto Agatha’s land. I think he fancies Archie’s new cow.’
‘Wow,’ Danesh quipped. ‘Quite the dairy disaster, eh?’
Alan gave him a look that could curdle milk. ‘Anyway, we’ll have to speak to Agatha, she’ll not rest till she gets her way.’ Sam finished his food, feeling very intrigued as to what kind of woman Agatha was that she could get a fire station full of burly blokes quaking into their safety boots.
Sam had hung around for the rest of the shift, filling in his paperwork, picking out a bunk and helping out where he could. Or where Alan would let him at least.
Lucy woke up with a sharp pain in her back, like someone was trying to poke something through her spinal column. Wincing, she rolled over to her side, reaching behind her to move whatever piece of office crap Iain had left on the bed. Opening her eyes, she froze. She wasn’t in her bed, or at home. The events from the day before came screaming back to her in a flurry, making her groan loudly and fall back on to her bed. The sharp object stabbed her again, making her jump up to a sitting position, bolt upright.
‘Muuummm!’ Xander moaned behind her. ‘You crushed Bobba Fett!’ He pushed her arm away, reaching under her to pull out his beloved toy. ‘Grrr!’
He growled loudly, a sure sign that he was both upset and angry. He used to do it all the time as a toddler, unable at the time to verbalise his feelings. She felt a wave of nostalgia so strong that she half expected to see a toddler staring back at her when she looked back.
‘Sorry, poppet,’ she said softly, holding her hands out palms up. Xander eyed her warily, looking from her face to the toy with its now separate arm.
‘Be careful, Mummy,’ he said, giving her a final glare before placing the pieces into her waiting hands. She grinned at him, blowing an errant strand of light brown hair out of her eye line.
‘I think you know by now, my darling son, that I—’ she put the arm back on with ease, making Bobba wave at him ‘—am a master builder.’
Xander pressed his cute little lips together tight, but she could see he was dying to laugh.
‘All fixed!’ She grabbed him, pulling him closer to her. ‘Cuddle for Mummy!’ He squealed, grabbing Bobba tight to his chest, before turning and setting him down on the bedside table.
‘Cuddle fort?’ he asked, and she nodded.
‘Cuddle fort it is!’ She pulled him close, his little PJs smelling of the fabric softener she washed his clothes in. He snuggled tight into her, his nose inches from hers. She covered the quilt over them both, stacking the pillows to make a tent of sorts. He nestled closer to her, and she held him tight.
‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked, looking into the eyes that were so like her own – a bright blue that made his dark, thick lashes all the more striking against his pale skin. Marlene had them too.
‘Yep, my room’s nice. It’s empty, I like it like that. I need my Lego from home though, I don’t have enough. Will Dad bring it?’
Lucy winced, thinking of home. Iain would have noticed they were missing by now. He was due to have his golf weekend, but he wasn’t leaving till that night. She wondered if he would still go. Would he have called Marlene? She knew her aunt wouldn’t lie to him, it wasn’t in her nature.
‘Well, you remember I said we were coming here for the holidays, and we made that holiday scrapbook to bring? That means we won’t be going home for a while yet. We have to leave what we didn’t bring at home, till we need it.’
‘I need it now,’ he whined. ‘I need more Lego! I can’t do nothing, my brain won’t let me.’
Her mouth curled up at one side, a slight grin showing. She ruffled his hair gently, and touched her nose to his. He let her, and stared right at her, just as she had taught him.
‘We will have a lovely summer here, and have lots of things to do and see … your brain won’t have to be doing nothing. I’ll tell you what, you pick some Lego from Mummy’s phone, and when it arrives, we can build it together.’
‘Will Daddy bring it?’
‘We’ll get it delivered to our cottage, but we might even