The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street. Rachel Dove
up fast.’ Robert rattled off the details as they navigated their way through the streets of London towards their shout. Sam nodded, pulling on his helmet, ready. ‘Understood. Robert, you and I will do front door. Lenny, you head round the back. Assess any damage, check for hazards and stray looky-loos.’
‘Okay, ETA six minutes. You glad to be back?’
Sam flashed his colleague and friend a smile. ‘I’m going back, two weeks.’
Robert’s face dropped in surprise. ‘Back up there? What for, midwife school?’
Lenny, looking as big and burly as ever behind the wheel of the fire engine, laughed out loud as they sat in the back.
‘Good one, Rob. Why are you going back? Got something going on up there?’
Sam didn’t answer, just nodded in his usual quiet way. Lenny and Robert knew not to bother pressing him. Sam wasn’t a gossip, or one to judge anyone else. Whatever he was doing up there, it had to be important to him. Sam never did anything in life without assessing every aspect first. It made him the skilled firefighter he was, and he had all the lads’ unconditional trust the minute he walked through the door on his first shift, all those years ago. The only real thing that had altered was his hairline. When they did school visits, the others liked to joke that his mop of dark curls had been singed off – frazzled off in a fireball. The kids loved it. Sam, not so much.
They got to the shout in record time, putting out the small pan fire and comforting the understandably very frightened residents. These were the best calls, the best outcomes. Quick in and out, put the fire out and have no casualties or structural damage. A new pan or two, a lick of paint and the memory would be washed away, freshened up, made anew. The lads all knew from experience that it could have been far worse than a scorched splashback and smoke damage. Before long, they were heading back home to the station.
‘Come on then, Sam,’ Lenny teased, as he indicated left and waved at a small gaggle of schoolgirls who were frantically blowing kisses and waving at them from the corner of the busy street. ‘Why do you keep going up to God’s country?’
‘God’s armpit more like,’ Robert scoffed, wiping a black sooty mark from the side of his face. ‘Helping that woman deliver her baby must have been the most action you saw, right? You starting to feel your age?’
Lenny banged his meaty hand against the steering wheel.
‘That’s it! He’s getting some action! That’s it, isn’t it?’ He beeped at a cyclist who swung out wildly in front of their truck, chuckling to himself as the cyclist jumped about ten feet in the air and peddled frantically back into the bike lane where he belonged. ‘Bike lanes save lives, man!’ he shouted genially out of the window. The cyclist nodded apologetically, face as white as a sheet. ‘Finally, Sam! A real-life woman who is not your mother to talk to!’
‘Hey,’ Sam warned, ‘watch the mother talk.’
Robert laughed. ‘Come on, Sam, as if we’d dare rib her. She scares me more than you do with one of her looks!’ The lads in the truck all laughed together.
Sam, as eager as always to shut down the talk about his life, shook his head.
‘I delivered a wedding planner’s baby, and she is now planning her own wedding, to the man she loves. As a matter of fact, they asked me to go be part of it. I like the country, the station lads are nice, and I’m due a change. No woman involved.’
Robert sighed dramatically. ‘Sam, Sam, Sam. You make my heart bleed, bro. You really do. How could you leave London?’
Sam just sat back and smiled at his friend. His mother Sondra had said much the same when he had told her, but she understood, as upset as she was.
Being a gangly lad in primary school, a white boy with a loud, bubbly African mother behind him and an array of temporary siblings, he was used to people trying to suss him out, wondering aloud and questioning his life choices. The thing was, Sondra Okeke Draper, his larger-than-life foster mother, always taught him to ignore the stares, hold your head up at all times, and do what felt right. Westfield, as bizarre as it was to his colleagues, was right. It felt right, and it wasn’t his life going forward he needed to sort out. It was his backstory. He loved London, sure, but aside from a few colleagues and his mother, he was alone here, too. Moving to the North wouldn’t be such a wrench, and one thing that Sam wasn’t afraid of was making the bold moves. He might be the strong silent type, but Sam knew exactly what was going on, and what felt important. This did, and without quite knowing what the outcome would be, Sam knew he had to at least open the puzzle box of his past, and peek inside. A wedding was a new beginning. Maria Mallory and James Chance, the couple with the baby he had delivered in front of the fire house, had their happy ever after. Sam had decided to at least look for his, and all signs pointed north.
The Day of The Mallory–Chance Wedding
Sam waved off the happy couple, and went to collect his bag, to head to the night do at Maria’s friend’s restaurant.
The chief of the fire house came out to shake his hand.
‘Well done, Sam, nice bit of publicity there. With us being a little local fire station, we need all the good news stories we can get. Keeps the penny counters happy. We haven’t always had a dedicated fire service in this village you know, and we need to make sure these damn cuts don’t change that.’
Sam shook his hand back, shaking off his praise.
‘It’s okay, sir, it was an honour. Nice to see a couple doing so well. It’s a good station.’
Chief Briggs nodded. ‘Beautiful baby too.’
Sam smiled, and this time it reached his eyes.
‘Sure is, Chief, Hope is gorgeous.’
‘Have you considered my offer?’ he asked Sam, all business now. ‘You’ve done a few cover shifts here, including the one where you were delivering babies, so have you decided what’s next? I know we’re not very exciting, compared to what you’re used to, but we’re a good group of guys, and we’d love to have you onboard permanently. Good scope for progression too, believe it or not.’
Sam looked around him at Westfield Fire House. It wasn’t what he was used to, by any means. Working in London was a world apart from here, and the fires were a lot different too, along with the other terrifying call-outs he had endured lately. He realised that his personal quest had become much more. Lately, instead of coming to Westfield to figure out his past, it had made him consider his future.
The day that Maria and James had slammed onto the drive of the fire house, he had done his job. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t think twice. He reacted, he planned and he galvanised the others into action. The baby was born safely, and it wasn’t till Maria had held the child in her arms, James wrapped around them both protectively, that it had hit him. He wanted to find out the truth, he needed to. He had to find out what his past was, before he could even think about forming a future. Every time he had tried in the past, it had ended in failure, leaving him more alone, lost and confused than before.
He looked at Chief Briggs who was watching him, as though realising that he was thinking it through. It was this quiet, unassuming air that tipped the scales for Sam. He liked his new boss, felt at home.
‘I’ll take the job,’ he said, shaking his hand before he could second guess himself and back out.
The chief looked delighted, pulling Sam into an awkward spontaneous hug.
‘Ah lad, I am pleased!’ He slapped him on the back and Sam patted him back gently. Given that Chief Alan Briggs was half his size, he felt fearful of breaking his new boss.
‘Family coming with you?’ he asked, looking a little embarrassed. ‘Sorry, Sam, I never asked if you had a wife, or kids.’
Sam shook his head, the sunshine shining off his broad bald bonce.
‘It’s