As if on cue, she heard the siren not too far away. She opened the back gate to see that half the shed was well lit and flames were lapping over the roof. Charlie was using a plant pot to scoop water from a small pond and chuck it at the shed in a rhythmic motion. ‘Fire engine’s on its way,’ she called.
He looked alarmed. ‘Get everyone the hell away! Send them down Hollingbury Crescent.’ She didn’t like the tone of his voice. Something was wrong. The shed was on fire, but it wasn’t near the house and everyone was out of the garden. It didn’t feel like they needed to get further away. She was considering challenging him when his expression hardened and he shouted at her. ‘Now, Regan. Go!’
She didn’t ask again. She was afraid and pissed off in equal measure, but if a firefighter was telling her to get further away then she wasn’t going to argue. Well, not right now anyway.
She herded the revellers across the road and out of the way as the fire engine pulled up and lots of large, yellow-helmeted men, like giant Lego clones, all poured out.
She waved at the clone firefighters. ‘Charlie is in there!’ she shouted, and pointed towards the flames dancing over the roof of the garden shed.
Suddenly the atmosphere changed. A white-helmeted firefighter was shouting instructions and she and the others were ordered even further back. Police cars screamed into the area and Regan’s pulse did the tango.What the hell was going on?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eventually the flames disappeared, but now pyjama-clad families were being evacuated from nearby homes and they were all being pushed back down Hollingbury Crescent by the police officers. It made no sense. Surely the danger had passed? Regan felt like a spare part, but she couldn’t leave without Charlie. Most of the barbecue party had gone home, the people who appeared to live at the house were talking to the police, and the few bystanders who had joined them had lost interest now the flames – and any Instagram-worthy footage – were no longer available.
A few firefighters returned to the engine and when the biggest of them took off his helmet she recognised him; it was Beanstalk. Police were still patrolling and stopping people crossing the street so she couldn’t just walk over to him.
‘Beanstalk!’ she hollered. He spun in her direction and crossed the road. His face was grubby from the fire and his eyebrows knitted into a frown. ‘Reg, what are you doing here?’
‘I was having a drink with Charlie. Where is he?’
Beanstalk shook his head. ‘He’s getting a lecture from our watch commander.’
‘Why?’ Regan felt defensive. How many people would run to help on their day off? He’d probably saved that family’s fences.
‘Because the shed was next to the neighbour’s full tank of heating oil. It could have exploded at any moment.’ His expression was grave, and it chilled Regan’s very soul.
‘He could have got himself killed,’ she said, in a small voice.
‘You know what?’ Beanstalk rubbed his forearm across his troubled face. ‘Subconsciously, I think that’s exactly what he’s hoping. I think he’d rather go out like that than just slip away.’
A garden gate banged shut and they both turned to look across the street. An extremely cross-looking Charlie strode down the side of the house and back towards the pub.
‘Charlie!’ called Regan, but he didn’t turn around.
‘Maybe give him a bit of space?’ said Beanstalk, gently. ‘I know he acts like everything’s fine, but deep down he’s fighting demons all the time.’ He always appeared so happy, but the turmoil he must deal with every day was immense – not knowing if this one would be his last. She wished she’d spent more time thinking about how Charlie really felt, rather than accepting the happy exterior he’d presented. They both watched Charlie stride out of sight.
‘Beanstalk!’ someone shouted from the engine.
‘I gotta go. Will you be okay, Reg?’ He gave her a worried look.
‘Of course. I’m fine. I start on the market tomorrow.’ She tried to find a smile from somewhere.
‘That’s grand. Good luck,’ he called, and he strode back to the engine.
The next morning was bright and clear, just like a new chapter should be. Regan parked her car on double yellow lines, jumped out and began unloading the heavy boxes of jars from the boot onto the pavement. She paused as she had a thought. She couldn’t carry the boxes all at once, and daren’t leave them on the pavement because someone might steal them. She heaved two back in, shut the boot and picked up the last box. She lugged it inside and headed for her stall. A large woman with dreadlocks was unpacking ornate dragons from a wooden box.
‘Erm, hi,’ said Regan, shifting the weight of the jam box to her hip.
The woman looked her up and down. ‘Hi,’ she replied before immediately returning her attention to her dragons.
‘I think this is my stall.’ Regan nodded at the table, awash with dragons in various poses.
‘I think you can see that it’s not.’ Dragon Woman shook her head dismissively.
‘But when I spoke to Bernice she said I could choose and I chose this one.’
‘You need to speak to Bernice, because I’ve been here for a couple of days so this is my stall and I’m not moving.’
