She shoved the phone into her pocket before swinging determinedly down the street towards home. Her phone beeped again, and she stopped mid-stride. He never replied usually. Never. Something bubbled through her. Anxiety.
But the text, when she opened it, was from Walker. Which was a much nicer surprise and she happily pushed all thoughts of Papà to the back of her mind. A glimmer of guilt flashed through her, as she remembered Walker’s face yesterday. He’d only been trying to do the right thing, to make sure she didn’t hurt herself– or anyone else. He couldn’t help it, she supposed. He didn’t know her well enough to see that she’d be fine.
She clicked the message.
Walker: I found an earring. It was under the pole. Is it yours?
An image downloaded, and there was her gold stud. She never normally wore anything fancier– she couldn’t when she was performing anyway; they got in the way of wigs or safety or equipment. She touched her earlobes, and the left one was empty. How had she not noticed this morning? Maybe she had been more hungover than she thought.
She typed back.
Gabi: Yes! Thanks. Can I pop by and pick it up?
She watched the ticks turn blue and then he sent a reply, saying that he was at the fire station and to swing by any time. She grinned again and swung straight around. No time like the present.
Walker was inspecting the fire truck in the forecourt as she crossed the yard. She paused for a moment to catch her breath from the walk and admire the view. His braces hung around his waist, and his chest was snug in a fitted T-shirt. He looked like he could have walked out of a Diet Coke advert. Maybe he felt the weight of her stare because he turned around. She waved.
‘That was quick!’ he said, walking over and hitching his braces over his shoulders. As he approached, he put his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out the earring. It glinted gold between his fingers as he passed it over.
‘Thanks so much,’ Gabi said. ‘I didn’t even realise I’d lost it.’ She pulled the stud from its back and held it towards her ear.
‘Don’t you want to clean that first?’ Walker said, a frown pinching between his eyebrows. ‘It was on the floor.’
Gabi peered at the jewellery, and then popped it into her mouth, sucked it clean and stuck it into her ear.
‘That’s one way to do it, I suppose,’ Walker said, ‘but you don’t know where that’s been!’
She poked her tongue out at him briefly. ‘I’m sure I’ve had worse in my mouth,’ she said and grinned as he choked on a laugh.
‘How does it feel to be a world record holder then, Walker?’ Gabi asked when the stud was safely in place.
‘Pretty good.’ Walker nodded. His hazel eyes glinted suddenly, and he grinned. ‘Who would have thought going up and down on a pole could be so much fun?’
Gabi snorted in surprise. So, there was a funny side to the hero too?
‘The good thing is, we raised a lot of money for the fund.’ His eyes were serious again. Gabi had a sudden urge to bring back his playful side.
‘It all went really well, I thought,’ said Gabi. ‘You seemed to have planned for all contingencies. . .’ She flashed her own eyes at him, bit her lip. ‘Apart from maybe a drunk woman with a broken leg deciding anything you can do, she can do better.’
‘I think I did have that scenario in my risk-planning document actually,’ smiled Walker. ‘It was number one thousand and twenty-two.’
Gabi giggled. Her day was definitely on the up.
‘And what about your lifting and carrying procedures? Were they all met when you caught me?’ Gabi poked Walker in the chest and was surprised again by the solidity of his muscle.
‘Funny, I would normally tip you over my shoulder in a proper fireman’s lift. . .’ he said, and he looked her up and down, as though considering it. ‘But I think I managed okay.’
Gabi looked up at his face, remembering the angle of it yesterday as she was nestled against his chest, the jut of his jaw. The straight line of his nose.
‘Walker!’ someone called from the operations building. He turned and acknowledged them with a hand in the air.
‘Better go,’ he said, and she felt a rush of disappointment.
‘Of course, me too,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’ve got a pressing appointment too. . . with the sofa and a film.’ He put his head on one side, eyes holding hers.
‘You okay? Coping all right?’
She pulled herself upright, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. ‘Oh yes, all fine,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘It’s just frustrating more than anything. I have to remember to put my phone in my pocket every time I move. Or carry a little bag around with me. But I can’t carry anything because of the crutches, and you can’t put a plate of sandwiches or a cup of coffee in your bag.’ She shrugged too and then laughed. ‘It’s only for a short time.’
