The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street. Rachel Dove

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter 6

      Sam’s first morning in Westfield was uneventful. Waking up in the cottage he was renting, he listened to the quiet of his surroundings. It had been a long while since he had lived with his adoptive mother in her full and noisy house, but he still found himself missing the noise of little feet on the stairs, music battling for supremacy in different rooms, the heartwarming belly laughs of his mother as one of the children made her laugh. Even in his flat in London, he would be awoken by the sound of the streets outside his window, the sound of the fire engines starting up in the middle of the night. He rented near to the station, so that when things got bad he could be called in. There in six and a half minutes from the time the call came in to him walking into the fire station. He liked to be near.

      He stretched out his arms in front of him, working out the kinks from sleeping on the unfamiliar and rather hard mattress in the master bedroom. It was a cosy cottage, homely and clean, with some nice touches throughout. Milk and bread and other essentials were in the fridge and cupboards when he had finally come in last night, and he was only connected to one other cottage, seemingly occupied judging from the lights that were in the window when he had arrived. No car though, so he couldn’t get a read on who was staying there. Still, he couldn’t see them receiving many night call-outs, so he shouldn’t be a nuisance. He was used to making himself smaller around people by now. Sometimes in life, he had to, despite what his mother taught him. He needed to fit in, or at least fly under the radar. At least for now. Toe the line.

      Westfield Fire Station was a feeder station, as well as catering for the residents of Westfield. They often helped out on call-outs in Harrogate and other surrounding areas. Little villages mainly, dotted around the vast green fields and forests of the area. It sure made a difference from the concrete jungle he was used to, but it had great value all the same. This wasn’t an easy job, by any means. He had not come here for an easy ride, job wise. True, he had his own agenda, but the job and the guys at the house were great. It had felt welcoming from the first moment he had worked in there, all those months ago. Filling a staff need and looking for answers.

      Heading downstairs a short while later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, he made himself a coffee using the complimentary sachets and made a mental note to get some shopping in after his shift, or at least book an online delivery. Back home, he would place the same order week after week, to be delivered the same day. Convenient, but, tasting the coffee in his mug, he realised that change perhaps wasn’t such a bad thing. He opened up the patio doors in the kitchen, standing just outside the door, his bare feet feeling the cool of the neatly decked seating area outside. A barbecue stood in the corner, covered up and tucked away from the elements, with a large seat on the other. Perfect for family holidays, he was sure. Lucky for him that this had been available. The thought of living in a hotel had filled him with dread, but a holiday cottage? He hadn’t been keen when the chief suggested it, picturing plaid and crocheted doilies, but he actually rather liked living in a house. It felt homely, in an odd way. He was busy looking out at the countryside that stretched out beyond the garden borders when he heard a noise to his left.

      Sitting on one of the chairs, wrapped in a teal fluffy robe that he recognised from his own welcome pack, was the girl from the train. He opened his mouth to say hello, but then she started talking.

      ‘I know you’re not happy I left, but we needed to get away. Don’t you get that?’

      She was sitting side on from him, twirling a piece of lavender in her free hand, and he found himself taking a step back, closer to his porch. He could slip back through the patio doors, but he found himself hesitating. She sounded upset, and he had a feeling that this was something to do with why she was here. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had come to find answers, and perhaps she had escaped whatever she had to find her own.

      She stood suddenly, dragging her fingers through her unkempt morning hair and sticking the lavender behind her ear. The movement made Sam yearn to lean in and smell the fragrance that it left there, near her hair.

      ‘No, you can’t speak to him, he’s asleep! I’m not waking him up for you to interrogate him like you normally do! We are here on holiday, he needs this. So do I, come to think of it. I asked you to come away with us, for us to sort things out, but you couldn’t do it. What do you want us to do, hang around at home for you all summer whilst we wait for you to grace us with your presence?’

      Her head snapped back, the phone suddenly thrust forward in her hand. She forked it vigorously before speaking into it again. The sprig fell СКАЧАТЬ