Mickey shrugged. He didn’t deny that part of it was for him too.
The crew had the pupils trying out kit and using the hoses; it was a riot. Gio didn’t spend much time with children aside from his brother’s two but kids were usually a captive audience when the fire engine rolled into view and once the demonstrations started.
They were almost back at the fire station just in time for lunch when they were radioed to attend a job less than two miles away.
‘Roger that.’ Mickey, a skilled driver, had the engine turned the right way in seconds before they bumped along a side street and emerged onto the road to take them directly to the bed and breakfast down by the river.
The shout was one of their most straightforward – a kitchen fire which hadn’t got too bad thanks to the owner’s quick thinking to call the professionals. Too many times, the crew saw fires that had gone out of control and heard owners’ stories of how they’d tried to put out the flames themselves first before calling 999. Unfortunately, some fires were a beast and wouldn’t go down without a bigger fight than a simple fire extinguisher could handle.
Back at the station after lunch, the crew was onto a trainingdrill, the physical kind rather than being in the meeting room, which was always Gio’s preference. The crew challenged their physical ability, their use of apparatus, ensured their competence by pulling ladders from the top of the engine and putting them up against the training tower to simulate a rescue from the top floor. And before they left for the day, there was a lecture, a debrief, and more cleaning of equipment.
Gio didn’t go straight home after shift; he went to the next town and the supermarket there because he knew they sold sparklers. He didn’t approve of home firework displays but sparklers he could get on board with and thinking about his mum’s face when he showed them to her later was enough to send him into the store.
He came out with four packets of giant sparklers. She’d love them. They’d wait until dark, though, when they’d look their best.
Gio drove home. He rounded the corner near the river to drive along the road parallel to the water, and stopped to allow a woman pushing a pram to get safely from one side to the other.
He pressed the accelerator to go on his way but at the same time saw a figure sitting on the bench overlooking the river.
He was about to pull into the parking space, head over and ask his mum what she was doing here when she should be at work, but he found his hands firmly gripping the wheel and staying on course for home.
Marianne was supposed to have another couple of hours at her job. Had she finished early? Had she been fired?
He’d usually sprawl out on the sofa when he got home and take a break but Gio couldn’t rest, not until his mum came home and he knew what was going on.
He went out for a run. It was surprising the energy you could pluck out of thin air when you had something on your mind. Itwasn’t the first time he’d pounded the pavements to solve a problem, probably wouldn’t be the last.
Following his run, he had a shower, burnt his tongue gulping down a mug of coffee, all the while watching the clock. She’d be back any minute.
And when he heard her keys in the lock, he was in the kitchen and braced himself.
He kept his back to her as he pulled out the two pieces of almost-burnt toast from the toaster and dropped them onto a plate. ‘How was work?’
‘It was fine.’
He scraped his knife across the top of the butter, the jagged, yellow pieces breaking rather than coming off in nice, smooth curls. ‘Tired?’ He heard her pull out a chair.
‘I am. You must be too. How was work for you?’
‘Busy.’
And when he ripped a hole in the surface of the second piece of toast, the butter way too firm to be doing this, he lost it. The knife clanked against the china. ‘You’re lying to me.’
‘What?’
He turned to face her. He watched her. Had she been drinking? He couldn’t tell, not from here, and he daren’t take a step closer. ‘I said, you’re lying to me. I saw you by the river when you should’ve been at work.’
‘You’ve been spying on me?’
‘No, I haven’t! But I think perhaps I should’ve been!’
‘Don’t yell at me.’
‘Have you been drinking?’
Her chair scraped back and she picked up her handbag which, he wouldn’t mind betting, had a bottle of something inside and she knew it because rather than walking away as he assumed was her intention, she yanked the sides of the bag andthrust it under his nose so he could see its contents. ‘Take a look for yourself.’
He did.
