Chapter 20
Ben pushed open the kitchen door, hearing the plaintive meowing before he saw the shadow at the window.
‘I know, I know, I’m late. Hold on a minute,’ he said, marching to the window and opening it. Fred pushed his head against Ben’s arm in greeting as he slid into the kitchen, giving another rebuking meow.
As Ben stroked the cat, running his hand over the smooth fur, he noticed Fred was wearing a collar. Was Fred’s owner sending a message? Had they noticed that their cat was spending more time away from home?
He wondered if there was a tag with any information on it and reached for the collar, but Fred had other ideas and dropped to the floor with another, louder, more pointed meow.
Ben, aware he was being told off, hastily rummaged in the cupboard and grabbed a tin of tuna.
‘Look, mate, I shouldn’t be feeding you at all, but here you go.’
Ben mashed the tuna onto the plate before putting it on the floor. Fred looked at in disgust, then jumped up onto his stool.
Sighing, Ben lifted the plate onto the breakfast bar, where Fred daintily started picking at the tuna, purring contentedly.
Ben hadn’t seen the cat for a while, and he’d missed him. But perhaps Fred had just got fed up waiting for him on the windowsill while he was at work, which made Ben more determined to make the cat house he had planned.
Since talking to his dad about it, he’d been making more detailed drawings and was actually looking forward to getting started, even if it did mean spending a day with his father, he thought ruefully.
Work had been busy and intense. The week had begun with a house fire involving a young family; thankfully, though, no one was hurt.
He was looking forward to the May fair on the Green tomorrow.
He loved events like these, seeing the children’s eyes light up as they spotted the big red vehicle, helping them climb into the cab, press the button to turn the lights on.
Even the older children, who weren’t impressed by anything, would sidle up and ask questions.
Fred, plate emptied, jumped down from the breakfast bar and headed for the window.
‘Oh, that’s my lot, is it?’ said Ben. ‘Eat and leave, why don’t you? You’re treating this house like it’s a hotel!’
Shaking his head as Fred disappeared into the darkness, Ben realised he’d been looking forward to the cat’s company.
Maybe Penny was right and he did need to get out more, rather than spending Friday nights in with someone else’s cat.
The trouble was, he just couldn’t face sitting in bars or restaurants, awkwardly making conversation, or trying to wittily reply to WhatsApp messages, all the while knowing that it wasn’t going to go anywhere.
His feeling of dread was interrupted as the phone rang: Taz – perfect timing.
Two hours later, Taz arrived carrying a bag of food and his Xbox controller. Soon they were both immersed in a game, half-empty takeaway cartons lying on the coffee table.
It was the morning of the fair and Ben clambered on board, slammed the door shut and the engine rumbled out of the station.
Vick was driving and Taz made up the third member of the team.
They’d arrived for roll-call at eight and had spent the previous few hours preparing the engine.
Ben had gathered up the promotional material they took with them to community events – everyone loved a sticker – and then, after a final safety check, they’d left for the Green, near the main shopping street, to set up in time for the fair to start at 11am.
They’d been told to park near to the main gates, so setting up was easy once they’d arrived.
All the doors and hatches on the engine were opened, a table was unfolded for the leaflets about joining the service.
And as it was never too soon to start recruiting, for the kids they’d brought a box of dressing-up clothes: miniature high-vis jackets, waterproof trousers with fluorescent stripes taped around the legs and small bright yellow helmets.
Ben had just finished laying out the pens and badges when Taz joined him. ‘Here you go, mate: flat white, no sugar,’ he said, handing Ben the paper cup.
The fair was already buzzing with activity.
Vans and cars, their doors and boots flung open, had parked next to trestle tables and were being unpacked, bunting had been strung between tree branches and two women were wrestling with a bell tent, which was advertised as the chill-out zone, something they would be in desperate need of once they’d succeeded in putting it up.
Ben could also see a huge bouncy castle slowly rising at the far end of the Green, and a generator had been hauled over to a low wooden platform where the PA system was being set up for a band that had been booked for later in the day.
‘Thanks, mate,’ Ben said, taking a grateful sip of coffee. ‘Ended up being a late night.’
‘I know, we shouldn’t have got started on another game after we’d eaten. And I had to wait ages for the bus,’ said Taz, shaking his head.
‘Couldn’t let you go until we’d taken down the enemy.’
‘I hope you’re talking about that game you’ve been playing?’ asked Vick, joining them with bacon and egg butties. ‘It’s very unnerving to hear you go on about battles and power struggles. Given the current state of affairs, I never know if it’s for real or not.’
‘Excuse me,’ Taz said indignantly as he took a butty from Vick. ‘It’s based on real-life theatres of war and demands high-level tactical decisions to implement military strategies—’
‘La, la, la, I’m not listening,’ Vick interrupted. ‘I already have to hear all about Fortnite thanks to my kids, I don’t need any more gaming chat, thank you very much. So, are we ready to go?’
She turned to Ben, ignoring the wounded look he and Taz shared. ‘Gates open in an hour and, if we’re all set up, I’ll have a wander around now. I need a few presents and’ –pointing to the nearest stall – ‘that looks perfect. Who doesn’t love a bar of organic soap for their birthday?’
Vick, again, chose to ignore the look Ben and Taz exchanged.
‘Yeah, we’re all sorted, you go and we’ll hang around here,’ Ben said, wiping egg from his mouth with a paper towel. ‘But make sure you’re back for midday. That’s when the local reporter’s coming around.’
Vick sighed. ‘You know, I’m all for promoting the service, but it really gets on my nerves that it’s still considered an unusual job for a woman. But sure, I’ll be back in time to – what was it that last article said? – “fight fires and stereotypes”. See you later.’
As Vick headed off to browse the stalls, Ben and Taz returned to their discussion. ‘It’s a high-level game of strategy where you can change the course of history,’ Taz said.
‘Yeah, and Fortnite is not to be underestimated either. I just don’t think she gets it.’
Taz looked at his watch. ‘Right. We’ve got an hour before she gets back, let’s talk tactics.’