Читать книгу The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street - Rachel Dove - Страница 13

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 the 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.

‘It’s not dirty, the whole place is spotless really, I just love a bleached sink.’

Lucy nodded, going to open the window and putting it on the latch.

‘Xander’s not so keen on the smell, it bothers him.’ She looked through the window and saw that he was still sitting in the car, Dot now sitting in the passenger seat, book in hand. She waved her away, motioning to her that everything was fine. Lucy waved back.

‘Sorry,’ Marlene was saying. ‘We did ask at the library, but they don’t really have any books on the subject. If we do something wrong, let us know love, we want to help.’

Lucy felt the familiar burn of rage in the pit of her stomach.

‘He’s autistic, not stupid or difficult.’

She spat the words out, looking out of the window at the pretty garden to stop herself from saying anything else. The water started running behind her, and she heard the swish of the cloth as her auntie kept cleaning.

‘We know that, dear, but we are trying. The last thing we want is to upset him. We didn’t have it in my day, dear. Well, I’m sure that we did, but we just didn’t know about it like we do now. Us old bids were just trying to be down with the kids.’

Lucy turned to look at her.

‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough day.’

Marlene nodded, pulling off her gloves and placing them on the stainless steel draining board.

‘Did you tell him, before you left?’

Lucy swallowed, thinking of the phone call on the train.

‘He went to work early. I spoke to him on the train but it didn’t seem like the right time to tell him. I left a note, at home.’

She thought of her plush house back home, immaculate as always, the show house of his dreams. She had left everything neat and tidy, including the envelope she left on the kitchen island telling him that she was leaving him, to spend time with her family and think things through.

‘Did he really deserve that, Luce?’ Marlene asked. ‘I know that things have been hard, but does he deserve to come home from work to that?’

‘He barely comes home at all. I’ll be amazed if he even sees the note.’

Marlene pursed her lips, but said nothing.

‘I put your bags in the master bedroom, so Dot and I will leave you to it. We have yoga at the community centre this afternoon anyway. We put some food in the fridge, but you might want to do some shopping soon. If you need a sitter, let us know.’

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She heard the door open behind her, and the waft of lavender filled the kitchen. She could hear the women speaking to Xander, and car doors open and close. She headed to the front door, and watched her little boy carry his belongings into the house. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

‘It’s just cleaning smells that’s all. Do you like the house?’

Xander looked around him at the cosy cream kitchen, the dining room table set for two, fresh pink peonies in a little vase on the table.

‘It’s different from home,’ he said, his voice flat. ‘It’s not as shiny.’ Thinking back to her state-of-the-art kitchen, she laughed a little to herself.

‘It is; it’s a country look, more wood than shiny surfaces.’

Xander walked around the space, staying clear of the kitchen sink, and touched the surface of the wooden table.

‘I like it. It’s smaller. Can we see my room now?’

Lucy smiled, pointing to the stairs.

‘Lead the way, little man.’

Xander ran up the stairs, dumping his bag on the table before he went. There were no special hidden cupboards here to stash life away in. She looked at the backpack, and felt a wave of relief rush over her. Maybe, just maybe, this would all turn out for the best.

‘Mum, come look!’

‘I’m coming!’ she said, kicking off her shoes and racing up the stairs.

It 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.