The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street

Now, as he packed up his belongings and prepared to make the journey once more to Westfield, and his new home, he had another mission in mind. One that, yet again, he had no hesitation in. No fear that he wouldn’t complete it, find what he was looking for. What he wasn’t so sure about was just what he would find, and whether he could live with his decision afterwards. Even for a man who walked into flames, with a spine of steel, the prospect was daunting, and a little scary.

Packing up his flat had been easy, and what he hadn’t got in his holdall and suitcase, he had boxed up and stacked up in a corner of his mum’s garage. Two whole boxes, mostly books. His furniture in the flat had been sparse at best, so he had sold what he had, or donated it to charity. Clothes, toiletries, a stack of paperbacks, and one photo album was all he took with him. Easy to carry, even easier to unload at the other side. He didn’t need much. So here he stood, underneath the departure boards at King’s Cross Station, waiting to board, alongside the Harry Potter fans and bored-looking commuters.

‘I’m going to miss you, my darling boy,’ Sondra said, her greying thick black curly hair tied up neatly in her trademark bandana. ‘It will be so strange not to be close to you.’

Sam felt a twinge of regret as he saw her wipe a tear from her eyes with her handkerchief.

‘It’s not forever, and it’s only a couple of hours on the train. I’ll come and see you when I get a few days off, and you can come stay with me, when you have a break between kids.’

Sondra wouldn’t take a break, but the pair of them didn’t say that to each other. Such was their relationship that a lot went unsaid. They both knew it, and so to them, that was enough. She would come if she could. Sondra had never been between kids in all the years that Sam had lived with her. He had grown up in a hectic home, one full of smells, and noise, and memories, and Sondra was always at the centre of it. The calm captain at the helm. Many kids from all kinds of life had come through those doors. Some came in the dead of night, shaky little ghosts clutching bedraggled teddy bears, traumatised by what they had seen and heard. Others came angry, aggressive, half dragged out of cars by overworked social workers, eager to get rid of their fraught charges. Sondra never batted an eyelid, and she always commanded respect. Sam had been the only child she had never let go of, and he was forever grateful for her.

The train announcement sounded, and Sam took the woman into his beefy arms, kissing the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around his middle and held him tight.

‘I love you, my boy. I’ll see you soon.’ When they finally pulled away, she pressed a thick envelope into his hand. Her trademark cream notepaper and vellum-finished stationery. He smiled, a picture of her sat at her desk popping into his head. Glasses halfway down her nose, a glass of wine on a coaster on the wooden surface of the desk, her head bent over her paper as she scribbled away. ‘Read it on the train or when you get settled. Not now. Okay?’

He nodded, not trusting himself to keep it together if he tried to speak. She raised her hands above her five foot six frame, placing them on either side of his stubbly face. He stooped to let her, savouring the warmth from her palms, the scent of her coconut hand lotion enveloping him.

She dropped a motherly kiss onto his lips, stroking his face and letting the tears fall for a moment.

‘Just you remember, my sweet little Sam, you always have a home with me. Stay safe.’

He hugged her tight once more, kissing her cheek.

‘I will, Mum, I promise.’

She nodded, smiling through her watery tears. ‘And find someone to love, okay? Grandbabies need a mother, you know. I’m not getting any younger here.’

He laughed then, a deep throaty boom, and she laughed right along with him, each of them tucking the moment into their pockets, to pull out and cherish when they needed it.

They looked back at each other till he turned the corner, and he gripped the envelope to him. It smelled of her. He pushed it into his coat pocket and hauled his baggage to the train. The conductor looked twice at him as he went to enter the train, and Sam could feel himself getting annoyed. Looking down at the man, he nodded slowly, not bothering to raise a smile. The man nodded back, clearing his throat nervously and stepping aside for him to get onto the train. Sam was used to people thinking he was a meathead, a rough and tough bruiser, but realistically, it did start to grate when he was trying to go about his day. Made his job tougher too, with the louts that seemed to think it was okay to have a pop at a man trying to save lives, do his job. Idiots, one and all. He wouldn’t miss them in Westfield, and he very much doubted that it would be as tough in the little village he was going to call home for the next few months. He could only hope, anyway. In his current state, he didn’t have the energy for much else.

Still irked by the bloke, Sam stomped through the carriages till he found his seat. Moving to the end of the carriage, he stashed his bags in the luggage compartments. He noticed a woman and a small boy, sitting across from his table seat. The boy had headphones on, his face enraptured in the screen, his hair ruffled and sticking up at odd angles, pushed askew by his big headphones. Sam smiled, thinking of the kids he had grown up alongside. Half of them had never seen movies, let alone been lucky enough to have a portable screen to watch them on. He squeezed himself into the seat he had reserved, so he ended up sitting the opposite way from the lad, the same side as the woman. He felt eyes on him, and looked across to see the boy watching him intently. He looked away, aware that a man of his size looking at a youngster might be intimidating. He flicked his gaze across at the woman, and she was looking right at him. He was just noticing how blue her eyes were when she opened her mouth to speak, flashing him a set of pearly whites, that were currently bared at him.

‘Do you have a problem?’ Her tone was clipped, pushed out like pellets from an air rifle.

He laughed, out loud. Right at her. He didn’t mean to, and he choked off the motion in his throat as soon as he realised.

‘Sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘I didn’t mean to laugh. I don’t have a problem.’

She clenched her jaw, and Sam said nothing, observing her. He noticed how alike the pair looked, the young boy having her brown hair colouring, little streaks of lighter caramel tinted hair running through her shoulder-length locks. She had it wavy, and loose around her shoulders. She looked tired, he noted, and tense across her features. The boy was still looking at him, the tablet now on the table, forgotten.

‘Are you okay?’

He surprised himself by asking. Normally he kept himself to himself, off the job, but something about her made him want to know more.

‘I will be,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘I just want to enjoy the journey in peace.’

She glared at him again, and then turned to look at her son.

‘Xander honey, don’t stare.’

The boy, who had one headphone off his ear, looked at her in surprise.

‘He’s staring! Tell him!’

‘Xander!’ his mum scolded, in the form of a whisper. ‘Remember what we said?’

‘Mum! He did it! You always said to tell the truth!’

‘Xander, please!’

Xander huffed, and rolled his eyes so far in the back of his head Sam thought they would never return.

‘Fine,’ he spat out, giving Sam a sidelong glance that could spark a fire from across the county. ‘I don’t like you,’ he said, matter of factly, sticking his tongue out at Sam before picking up his tablet and shoving his headphones back onto his ears. The woman blushed furiously, and Sam chuckled again.

‘I’m sorry, Xander,’ he said. ‘You’re quite right, it is rude to stare.’

Xander didn’t take his eyes from the screen, but Sam saw him sneak a peek over the top at his mother and give a little grin.

‘I see you,’ she said, but her tone was softer this time. She looked across at Sam. ‘Thank you. He speaks his mind.’

Sam looked at the woman, who looked so frazzled and on edge and nodded once.

‘Nothing wrong with that.’

She raised her eyebrows, pulling a face.

‘Not always, for him. He hasn’t mastered tact.’

Sam looked out of the window at the man from earlier, who was now getting ready to blow his whistle.

‘He has time, I know plenty of adults who haven’t learnt that skill either.’

She laughed then, just once, and smiled at him for the first time. Her blue eyes flashed and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was.

‘Well, thanks.’

‘Sam, Draper.’

She looked him up and down, as though deciding something for herself, and then looked at her son, who was by now engrossed in his movie and not paying any attention to their conversation.

‘Lucy.’

She didn’t volunteer a surname, and turned back to her book. As she folded the page out to crack the spine a little, he noticed that she touched her bare ring finger, as though out of habit, before stopping herself. He was about to ask where she was headed when the whistle blew, and the Tannoy started to detail the journey from London to Leeds, and all the stops in between. He had stashed his holdall and suitcase in the compartments, and he checked on them as the train started to move. He took his jacket off, folded it and put it onto the seat next to him, before reaching into the carrier bag he had bought in the station. He took out a bottle of water and the latest thriller and settled in for the duration. He couldn’t bring himself to read the letter yet, when the smell of his mother was still all around him, on his clothing. He would wait to get settled in, and be alone. Then he would read the letter. No one wanted to see a six foot four man cry like a baby. As emotional as she had been on the platform, his mother wasn’t an overly emotional woman. Whatever was in that envelope was going to hurt him, and help him. How much of each, he didn’t like to hazard a guess.

A few chapters of his book in, and the train was racing along the tracks, the near empty carriage quiet and soothing. Xander was still in his seat, wrapped in his and his mother’s coats, tablet propped up on the table, his head nodding as he fought sleep. The noise of a mobile phone broke the silence, and Lucy scrabbled to answer it.

‘Hello,’ she said, half whispering. ‘I can’t really talk at the moment, call you later?’

The Tannoy sprang into life, announcing that refreshments would be coming down the train on a cart, and Lucy jumped, cupping the phone between her hands for dear life and scrunching down into her seat frantically. Shit!

The voice prattled on, and Lucy listened as best she could to the voice on the line. He was talking about work, again. He hadn’t even noticed the Tannoy, hadn’t even asked where she was. She let him finish, and waited for him to ask her about her day.

‘So,’ he continued, a line starting to ring in the background, ‘I’ll be really late, so go ahead and have tea without me, I’ll grab something here. We might end up going out somewhere, with it being Friday.’

‘Hmm-hmm.’ She looked across at her son, whose eyelids had now closed, and marvelled at how adorable he was. His long brown eyelashes fanned out into his cheeks, and even in sleep, he looked a little confused and anxious. Her beautiful, clever, misunderstood boy. ‘Okay, fine.’

If her husband picked up on her tone, he didn’t mention it. His voice was the same; distracted, far away. He acted as though letting his family know his whereabouts was an annoyance, a mundane obligation to tick off his to-do list. Speak to long-suffering wife. Check. Ignore existence of son bar the basics. Check. She thought of how he used to be, and her stomach flipped as she thought of where they were now. Miles apart from each other, now more than ever.

‘Okay. Oh, honey?’

She took a deep breath in. This was it. He was going to ask her. He was going to ask if Xander got to school okay, or what she was up to today. Anything. He could ask her anything, and she would tell him the truth.

‘Yes?’ she asked on a shaky breath. Her eyes flicked to the man opposite, but he hadn’t lifted his eyes from the pages of his book.

‘I forgot to ask, sorry. Been so busy today.’

Here it was. Ask me, damn you. Prove me wrong. I swear, we’ll get off this train. All you have to do is ask.

‘If you get time today, get my dry cleaning would you? I have golf tomorrow, and I need my suits back for Monday.’ Another phone started up again, his office phone, and he tutted crossly.

‘I gotta go, okay? See you later.’

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could even form the words, she heard the click of the line. He had gone, back to work. She looked at her phone, willing him to ring back. To have picked up on her tone and guessed that something was off. But she knew in her heart that he wouldn’t. He had stopped noticing things long ago. Her wallpaper came up on the screen, a picture of her and Xander together, smiling in the Lego shop. She remembered the day. Another bad day at school, another day of her son coming out of the school doors and running into her arms, crying. Kids were rotten, and some parents were no better. She had wrapped him in her arms and strode out of the wrought iron gates, mentally sticking a finger up at the judgemental mum set that watched them leave. She had gotten him straight into town, to the Lego shop that he loved so much, and they had sat there, at the activity table, till her son dried his tears and started to be himself again. One of the shop assistants had offered to take a photo, after her attempts at a selfie had resulted in either missing the model or chopping their heads off. The photo came out well, and it had turned into a good day. A day of hot chocolate in the coffee shop, of Lego models and little smiles. Another day where his dad had not been able to get out of work, or even taken a minute to give him a call.

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 their 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.