Chapter Eleven #2
The woman was still crying, and the child had joined in, his face a mask of misery and confusion at his mother’s tears.
Bart’s gaze flickered over the long blond hair tied in a loose plait, the eyes dark with distress, and a face wet from more than just the falling snow, and he tried to think where he’d seen her before.
Then it came to him: She’d been walking past his house when Audrey had knocked on his door to inform him about the festivities in the village.
Audrey drew herself up, the umbrella she was holding over them wobbling.
“She’s got nowhere to go, so I said she can come to mine for the rest of the night; not that there’s much of the night left.
” She pursed her lips. “We’ll give the council a ring in the morning, shall we?
See what they can do. It’s a shame there’s no room at The Bumblebee, but she can sleep on my sofa.
I’ve got my daughter and the kids staying for a couple of days, so I haven’t got a spare room, unfortunately. ”
“I have,” Bart interjected.
Audrey broke off at the interruption and gave him a sideways look. “You have? I thought you said you’ve got guests.” Her eyes went to Mitch, widening.
Bart said, “Only two. I’ve got a twin room she can have for the night. No offense, but it’ll be more comfortable than your sofa.”
“None taken, me luvver,” Audrey replied. “Is that all right with you, Sarah?”
“Bart, is everything okay?” Eloise reappeared at his elbow, concern etched on her face.
Audrey’s chin lifted and her eyebrows rose. Bart guessed what she might be thinking.
“This is Eloise, one of my guests,” he explained, not wanting his neighbour to get the wrong end of the stick.
“And this is Mitch, my other guest.” He addressed himself to the young woman.
“Sarah, is it? You can stay in one of my guest rooms, or you can stay with Audrey,” he told her gently.
“But whatever you decide, we need to get you and your son inside.”
“She’s got nowhere to go,” Audrey mouthed at Eloise, then louder, “I told her she’s welcome to my sofa.”
“Sofa?” Eloise repeated. “She needs a proper bed, and so does her little boy.”
Sarah gulped and swiped at her wet cheeks with one hand. Bart realised she was shaking, and his heart went out to her.
“Thanks. You’re very kind. I’ll just go get some things,” she muttered.
She stepped forward, but her way was blocked by one of the firefighters.
“Sorry, love, we can’t let you back into the property yet.
It’ll need to be assessed first, and we’ve had to turn all the utilities off.
You’ve got no gas or electricity, and they can’t be turned on until it’s deemed safe to do so. ”
Panic flared in her eyes. “How long will that take? I haven’t got any clothes and neither has Toby, and I need—”
“Babbit!” the little boy cried. “I want Babbit.”
Sarah’s face crumpled. “He dropped his toy rabbit. I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.”
“I want Babbit, Mama!”
The fireman said, “It’s a bit of a mess in there, but I’ll go take a look. Any idea which room it might be in?”
“Toby’s room, the one with the rails on the bed.” She bit her trembling lip, her eyes brimming with tears. “It’s yellow and has lost most of its stuffing.”
Bart flinched. He hoped the bed was recognisable; after all, fire could do terrible damage. Making a decision, he said to the firefighter, “I’ll take them to mine.” He pointed to the guest house. “Could you bring it over if you find it?”
“Sure.”
“Come on, love,” Eloise said, putting her arm around the distraught mother. “We’ll sort something out.” She glanced at Bart, who nodded firmly.
“Let’s get you settled for tonight. Everything will look better in the morning,” he soothed.
Sarah nodded, but her face was all screwed up as she tried not to cry again, and as she allowed Eloise to guide her towards the guest house, Bart could tell she wasn’t convinced it would look better.
The poor love, he thought, and for it to happen at this time of year, too.
No time would be a good time, but for it to happen at Christmas, when she had a child to think of, was awful.
At least he could help out tonight, and she could assess the damage in daylight. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad…?
Sarah was in the guest lounge, the little lad still in her arms, his crying having dwindled to red-faced sniffles. Eloise hovered nearby, and Bart could tell by her face that she was unsure what to do.
“They need to get out of those damp clothes,” she whispered to him. “I’ve got some things she can borrow, but as for the boy…”
“That’s kind of you. I’ll make up a room. I’ve got a twin that’ll do.”
“Do you need any help?” Mitch offered. He was watching proceedings with a helpless expression.
Bart said, “I can manage. First though, I think we could all do with a cuppa.”
“I’ll just go fetch those clothes,” Eloise said, and Bart gave her a grateful smile. As Eloise headed upstairs, he turned to Sarah. “Come through to the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on.”
Shell-shocked, Sarah followed him meekly into the kitchen and sank onto a chair, the boy on her lap. Toby was gazing around in wide-eyed curiosity, his tears now forgotten.
Mitch crouched down and smiled at the little chap. “I’m Mitch. What’s your name?”
The child corked a thumb in his mouth and gazed at Mitch solemnly.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you for not telling me. I’m not sure I’d want to speak to me, either. I’m not as scary as I look, honest.”
“His name is Toby,” his mother said wearily.
Mitch held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Toby.”
Bart looked on in surprise as the thumb in Toby’s mouth came out with a small pop and the little boy gravely shook Mitch’s hand. He’s good with him, he mused. Must be because he’s a teacher.
“What will Toby have?” Bart asked, as the kettle came to the boil.
“Have you got any milk, please?” She pressed her lips together, and Bart guessed she was trying not to cry.
“I certainly do,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I feel a bit sick.”
Bart blew out his cheeks. He wasn’t surprised. The poor girl was in shock. “How about Toby? Will he have something?”
“Just the milk, thanks, then I’ll try to put him to bed, if that’s all right?”
He nodded and told her, “You both need some sleep.”
“I don’t think I can.”
He reached for the teapot and began making the tea, then poured a glass of milk for the boy. When Toby squirmed on his mother’s lap, wanting to get down, Sarah tightened her grip on her son, eliciting an indignant squawk.
“He’ll be fine,” Bart assured her; but he understood that her reluctance to let the boy go was due more to the awareness that things could have been much worse, than for fear her son might be a nuisance. She needed to keep him close.
Toby had other ideas, and when the doorbell rang, surprising all of them, he arched his back and let out a shriek as he wriggled and twisted in his mother’s arms. When Bart went to answer it, he heard Mitch say, “Would you like me to take him for a minute?”
Sarah’s reply was lost as Bart opened the door to see the firefighter holding a soggy, grimy toy rabbit in one hand and a carrier bag in the other.
“Found the kid’s rabbit,” the man said, “and I thought these might come in handy.” He held out the bag, and Bart looked inside and smiled. “Clothes! Thank you.”
“I just grabbed a handful of stuff.” He looked embarrassed. “I hope they still fit him. I’ve got kids and I know how fast they grow.”
“They’ll fit him better than anything I could loan him,” Bart said. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just glad they’re okay.” He gave Bart a meaningful look before turning on his heel and trudging down the drive, leaving a fresh set of footprints in the newly fallen snow.
Bart stared after him thoughtfully. He suspected Sarah and her son had had a far luckier escape than anyone realised.