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I did, however, experience a twinge of self-doubt, second-guessing my food-to-person ratio, as I set up a trestle table with everything my guests would need: all things disposable for a quick cleanup afterward. But when folks start to show up, I relax and join in. Although, I keep an anxious eye on the time and the door as I watch for Molly.
Dex and Meryl sit and chat with Joan and John Bevan. Some of the station crew stand in small groups, sharing job stories, happy not to be on call. I’m listening in, not really paying attention, but I laugh along with the jokes and banter.
Charlie has commandeered the barbecue and relishes the art of grilling steak. He’s a perfectionist and gives a running commentary on his technique as if he is on a TV cooking show. He is in his element. A big smile on his face; a beer in one hand; tongs in the other. The steak on the grill sizzles and spits, throwing out smoke and flames. He flips each piece then heaps them, one by one, on two large foil trays with the burgers and sausages.
I sneak a glance over at the gate just as Molly shyly walks in. My heart flips. She doesn’t see me straight off. Shelley James catches her attention, and she walks over to where Shelley is standing by the table. I excuse myself from the knot of good-natured fire staff and walk over to join them.
“Hey, Molly. So great that you came,” I say, trying to keep my enthusiasm in check. An awkward moment follows as I lean in to kiss Molly’s cheek. Shelley reaches out to grab some chips, blocking me. I don’t think anyone else, apart from me, notices my clumsiness.
“This is lovely, Cam,” Shelley says. “Thanks for hosting and inviting us.”
“Yeah, thanks, Cam.” Molly smiles. “It’s so nice to get the neighbors together. We hardly ever see each other, do we, Shelley?”
“Please, let me get you a drink.” I lean across the table to a bucket where bottles and cans nestle together in slush and ice cubes. “What would you like?”
“A cold beer would be perfect,” Molly says with a grin.
“Make that two,” Shelley chimes in, although I wish she would see someone else that she’s been dying to talk to and leave Molly and me alone. I flick off the bottle caps and wipe down the outside of each, with a paper towel, before handing them over.
“Thanks, and cheers,” Molly says.
Shelley accepts the beer, says that she’s having a great time, then thankfully, she spots someone on the other side of the yard and wanders away to chat with them.
I’m about to ask Molly about her day when Tony comes over and slaps me on the back, almost knocking the beer out of my hand.
“Great barbecue, Wickham.” He reaches past me and takes a beer from the ice bucket.
“Thanks,” I say through gritted teeth willing Tony would move away as soon as possible. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
Tony flips the cap off his beer, holds out his hand to Molly, and says, “Tony. Tony Lennox.” Molly looks at me with eyebrows raised, smiles, and introduces herself. Then, to my dismay, Tony goes on. “Cam and I shared an apartment in the city, didn’t we, bud?” He shakes Molly’s hand enthusiastically. “Those were the days, weren’t they? Oh, the fun we had.” Tony chuckles. “I can tell you some stories, huh?”
“Yep, Tony. Fun times,” I say looking at Molly who listens intently and sips her beer.
“Bachelors forever!” Tony bellows, then laughs and heartily slaps my back again. “That was our motto, wasn’t it?”
I’m just about to say something about my bachelor buddy being married now, when there’s an ear-splitting shriek, and a microsecond later, Charlie yells from somewhere behind me, “Stop thief! Catch that dog!”
I whirl around to see a blur of brown fur, six inches off the ground, shoot past me. It’s Sinatra and a huge slab of steak is clamped in his mouth. The inch-thick, chargrilled sixteen-ouncer hangs out on one side, bouncing as he romps around. Obviously pleased with himself, he dives, triumphantly, under the table, dodging grasping hands. By now the guests are either trying to catch the Artful Dodger or laughing at the comedy playing out around them. Sinatra thinks it’s all a big game. Plates and drinks are knocked over in the commotion. I scramble to try and corral the little troublemaker. But he’s too quick for me, darting between legs and weaving through the crowd with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Some of the crew try and grab the pint-sized pooch but he’s too fast and leaps to avoid capture, leaving the firefighters comically hugging the air. He trips up Mrs Bevan who topples over, pulling the food table as she goes down. Sinatra runs one more chaotic lap of honor around the yard as everyone laughs and whoops at his antics, before racing out of the gate with his prize still in his jaws.
As I help Mrs Bevan up, she wipes the coleslaw from her skirt. She smiles bravely and tells me she’s alright and not hurt at all. Only then do I take stock of the warzone in my backyard. How could one little dog cause this much mess?
Slightly dazed, and still surveying the fallout of my barbecue, I see Dex put his arm around Meryl, helping her to stand up. Her expression has turned, in an instant, from hysterical mirth to furrowed-brow pain. Squeezing her eyes tight shut, she cradles her belly.
From across the yard, I hear her wail, “Woo! Dex! Better get me to hospital, quick smart.”
Chapter 7
Molly
“And then out of nowhere, here’s Sinatra,” I say between bouts of laughter in Ernie’s kitchen. “…with the biggest steak I’ve ever seen hanging out of his mouth. Everyone’s laughing and trying to catch him. Oh my.” Ernie’s laughing too. “Poor Cam. Mrs Bevan knocks the table over: everything’s on the ground. Then, Meryl is laughing so hard she goes into labor!” Suddenly serious. “I hope she’s alright.”
“Sinatra. What am I going to do with you?” Ernie tries and fails to scowl at his dog who is chomping his way through the enormous cut of stolen meat. “I need to go and apologize to that poor man.” Ernie sighs. “And replace the steak and everything else that he wrecked, of course.”
“Oh, Ernie. I’m sure it’s not such a big deal. I mean, yes, Sinatra did steal the steak. This is true. But the chaos escalated because everyone reacted the way they did. He thought they were just playing, so he kept running around.” I sigh and watch Sinatra’s floppy ears jiggling happily as he enjoys his meal. “It was pretty funny, though. And no real harm done.” I move towards the door. Then I stop and ask, “Are you feeling better? Do you need anything at all?”
“No, I don’t need anything. But thank you, Molly, for asking. And thanks for taking care of Sinatra, the little devil.” Ernie says with a weak smile, tugging up the lapel of his faded, green tweed dressing gown. The piped edging is coming away from the sleeves. “And, yes, I am feeling much better, thank you.”
