Chapter 5 #2
“Apologies.” The torch lowered, and the dark blob before her blinked into something more human: an intimidatingly tall, broad figure wearing a khaki firefighter’s uniform illuminated by high-vis stripes.
“I’m not the owner,” she said after taking an unbelievably long time to process his question. “I just work here, and live here.”
“Right, I see. Still, I’ll fill you in outside where it’s safe and dry, aye?”
She was already being ushered back into the cool air, where she shook the puddles from her trainer and scraped the damp hair from her face. The concrete was abrasively rough against her bare foot, so she balanced on one leg like some sort of daft pelican lady.
And then she returned her attention to the man holding the torch and wished she hadn’t, especially when he took off his helmet.
Coffee Giant.
She must have been disoriented enough to blurt it aloud, because his brows furrowed, casting shadows over his dark eyes under the buttery streetlight. “Beg your pardon?”
This close, he was ridiculously, outlandishly, absurdly attractive – maybe even more than she’d thought in the pub.
Faint lines bracketed the bottom of both cheeks as though he’d spent most of his life laughing.
His eyes were as treacle-like as his voice: rich, liquid brown with a ring of amber circling his pupils.
The helmet had flattened his hair over his forehead, and he tugged off one of his gloves to comb it back.
Eiley was fairly sure that her mouth was bobbing open and closed like a fish’s, no words willing to come out.
“What? No insults tonight?” That infuriating smirk returned, drawing crinkles around his eyes, and she wished she never had to look at it, or him, again.
A chill tiptoed over Eiley where her wet hair met her shoulders, and she hugged her torso, defences rising.
She couldn’t stand men like him. Men who knew they were handsome and took advantage, thinking a pretty smile or a sharp jawline permitted them to treat people however they wanted.
Thinking they could just sit at the bar and flirt with any passing fancy, as though everybody else were a pawn in their little games.
“I think I should talk to somebody else,” she said finally.
“Sorry, but you’re stuck with me. They’re a wee bit busy in there … y’know, saving your bookshop and flat from complete catastrophe.” He tipped his head to the bookstore with mild indifference.
When she remained quiet, he quipped, “Don’t worry, love. You’re already forgiven.”
Disbelief left a mangled sound in Eiley’s throat. “Oh, goodie! That’s very gracious of you!”
“That’s me. Now, are you going to let me do my job,” he questioned stiffly, “or are we going to have a stooshie in the street while your house sinks in on itself?”
His words needled into her as she remembered why, exactly, she was here.
Her voice was much smaller when she responded: “How bad is it?”
“I’ve seen worse. Seen better, too, though. That storage tank must have been ready to burst for a while.” A sudden sternness pinched his features. “We’ll be having a conversation with your landlady about that when we next see her.”
“Can I at least go inside to get my kids’ things?
” She was already thinking of everything that might be ruined: Sky’s beloved stuffed animals, Saffron’s set of musical toys, Brook’s books.
The furniture, their clothes, the boxes of stuff she hadn’t even unpacked yet.
Worse, the routine they’d only just settled into.
Once again, their lives would be upended.
Sky needed a steady constant. With autism, so much of his wellbeing relied on stability.
Any change could leave him inconsolably upset.
And Brook loved the new space they had. He’d built a fort in his room with books and blankets where he and Eiley lay every night once his siblings were asleep.
Their own quality time, often spent rehearsing lines for drama class or reading together.
And, oh, god, the bookstore’s stock. Harper’s paperbacks, signed and ready for the event next week.
Maggie could maybe afford replacements and repairs, and there’d be insurance (wouldn’t there?
she thought with a cold wash of dread), but would she want to pour funds and energy into fixing the property when she owned half a dozen others around Scotland?
Eiley had seen plenty of businesses abandoned on Main Street before now.
What if it was all too expensive or time consuming and she just sold up? If she lost Thorn & Thistle …
Just like that, the rug was torn from under her. Everything she’d worked for, gone. Again.
“It isn’t safe to go upstairs just yet, but we’ll retrieve as much as we can when possible.” His face flickered with something she didn’t like. Something she saw too often. Sympathy.
Eiley clenched her teeth, looking up at the bay window where she’d enjoyed drinking her tea and reading her book only yesterday evening. Wherever she went, something bad happened. Heartbreak, loss, abandonment, and now this.
“Eiley …” Her name sounded out of place on his tongue, uttered softly. Too softly. How did he even know it?
He reached out to touch her arm, and her skin prickled with the urge to pull away.
She didn’t like being touched, especially not by strangers.
Especially not by people she didn’t trust. Her skin was still tingling from the spa treatments, the ones she’d forced herself to endure because she’d wanted to have fun.
She’d wanted to feel like a human, like everyone else, for just one day.
She hadn’t even been able to manage that.
When she stepped back from him hastily, the firefighter pursed his lips.
“Look, it’s not the end of the world. The worst of the damage is directly under the tank – in your room, and then the ceiling of the main shop space.
People, and buildings, recover from these things.
Believe me, I’ve seen plenty. It’s just a case of drying the place out and handling some maintenance.
Replastering, rewiring, new carpets, checking insulation, that sort of stuff. ”
“So, not a lot to deal with, then,” she said sardonically. “How long will it all take?”
“A month, maybe. Possibly longer. We’ll start drainage as soon as we’ve got everything under control, but after that, it’s really in your landlady’s hands. My colleague should have explained this to her on the phone already.”
A month.
She’d be moving back into Mum’s. Another five steps backwards.
Mum would be thrilled to have her house full of grandchildren again, but Eiley would only be reminded of the emptiness, and then the panic, that had come after Finlay had left and she’d been unable to stay afloat alone.
Staring at the old yellow paint on her ceiling for hours each night until Saff needed feeding or Brook crept in to sleep beside her.
The unending noise in her brain, racing questions merged with this strange, hollow static that made her wonder if any of this was even real.
She would have to drag them into a new routine, and then another after that when they eventually came back.
It had taken Sky months to get used to the idea of a new home.
He was at a turning point, finally attending forest school after lots of trial and error in different places.
Moving out would be a domino effect: upsetting the balance here meant everything would topple.
And she couldn’t protect them from it.
Her eyes stung with tears that she desperately tried to blink back. She tried to move around him again, but he stepped in front of her to block the entrance.
“ Please! There’s … There’s a stuffed octopus with one eye up there that my son really really loves. It makes him feel safe.” They’d lost him in the supermarket once, and Sky had sobbed his poor little heart out.
“Okay. We’ll get it for him when we’re able.”
It wasn’t enough. She needed to do something.
“If I can’t go upstairs, can I at least try to rescue some of the books near the front of the shop?
The higher up ones must be okay but I can’t leave them in the damp.
I won’t get in your way, I swear. Just …
There has to be something I can do. It can’t all be ruined. ”
His torchlight dove down to her shoes – or, rather, shoe – and he cleared his throat. “Probably not a good idea. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s not very safe in there even for those of us wearing both shoes.” And then he squinted, torch dancing around her knees. “Are those T-rex jammys?”
She glared, feeling more foolish now than ever before, which was saying something, considering she’d suffered plenty of embarrassing moments over the years. Plenty just today, even.
She tied the belt of her robe tighter around her hips. “They’re stegosauruses, actually.”
Sky’s love of dinosaurs had taught her that, which was why she’d bought them in the first place. Anything to see his face light up.
“Ah. Either way, no need to ruin those bobby dazzlers, eh? I’d advise you to go home. Come back in the morning. We’ll take it from here, octopus and all.”
“There are books in there that need saving!” Eiley insisted. “I’ll change my bloody shoes.” She wouldn’t. She didn’t have anything to change into . “Just let me back in!”
The firefighter huffed. “What aren’t you getting here? It’s not safe . We don’t know if the ceiling’s going to hold all that water.”
“Then give me your helmet!” If it was anyone else, she would never have dared act so stubborn, especially not with an emergency responder.
These people were working through the night to help her, to stop her world from crumbling.
But it was him , and he was making fun of her, which was probably valid considering the circumstances, but it still irked her.
“You’re quite the little firecracker, aren’t you?
” His eyes danced with amusement, a challenge somewhere in them that left heat radiating beneath her skin despite the cold.
Nobody had ever called her that before. She was shy wee Eiley .
A doormat , Cam had said when she’d first told her about her problems with Finlay.
Well, no one would walk over her tonight. “I’m not little.”
“I think we’ve already established, what with your yay high-ness, that you’re relatively little.”
“Maybe you’re just too tall!” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. “Is it even healthy, being all the way up there? Don’t you get altitude sickness or something?”
“Nope, but cheers for the concern. Did you come up with these insults when you were staring at me the other day, then?”
She wanted to kick him. Very, very hard. Possibly between his legs. As it was, she snatched his helmet from his hands, because maybe being labelled a firecracker had empowered her and maybe she loved the books, her job, her kids’ home, too much to be told no this time.
Leaving him stunned, she strutted back into the store, sopping shoe and stegosaurus pyjamas be damned.