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“I applaud you, my darling friend. In your situation, I would not be so mature and grown up about it. I would be absolutely dramatic. I’d kiss him on the town square in front of everyone, and howl and wail with weeping, on my knees, as he disappeared over the horizon.”
“And that’s the difference between you and me, Lydia.” I haven’t touched my coffee. It’s gone cold. “So, Lydia. More importantly. What is the library display going to be about, huh?”
Chapter 16
Cam
In a flour mill around twenty miles from Oak River, an extraction fan, overheated, shorted, and cut out. A mote of flour dust, floating around in the atmosphere, drifted too close to the faulty extraction fan’s electric motor. The carbohydrate in the flour reacted with oxygen in the air and, kaboom, combusted. This tiny explosion sparked an instantaneous chain reaction of other tiny explosions of particles, creating a fireball that very quickly ripped through the deserted factory. The sprinkler system failed.
A passing motorist, one of the few on the country road on a Sunday afternoon, noticed the smoke cloud and made the emergency call. The fire raged on, wild and dangerous, until Charlie and I arrived. We were first on the scene. Suited up in full protection gear, we assess the situation. It’s clear we would need more than one firetruck to bring the fury under control. I report back to base.
“It’s a big one. We need backup.”
“Units have been dispatched. Do what you can.”
Charlie and I turn the hoses, full pressure, onto the burning building. But the jet of water barely has any impact at all. Flames evaporate the water, turning it into steam. The fire is spreading, but thankfully, the flour mill is isolated. No other structures are close by. Then a massive explosion blows out the windows on the ground floor, showering us with glass and flaming timber. Charlie and I shield our heads, but hold fast, redirecting the hose through the wrecked window. Smoke and heat billow out.
Soon we hear sirens of approaching emergency vehicles above the roar and crashing of the burning factory. Flashing lights of four more firetrucks arrive. Then, as if a prayer has been answered, the clouds that were gathering throughout the day, rain down, joining us in our battle with the monstrous flames of the disintegrating edifice.
In the early hours of the morning, I finally get home, shower, and crash out.
The fire at the flour mill was extinguished through a determined coordinated effort of all present and the helping hand of Mother Nature. Blackened smoldering wreckage hissed, spluttered, and eventually died. The site was secured and made safe. All emergency services at the scene were dismissed unharmed, each climbing wearily into firetrucks and police vehicles. Sooty and sweaty, and wet from rain, we drive away and disperse.
I could do with a rest day, but I need to be off and out of Bristol Lane today. I’m reporting for duty at the city station in the morning. It’s a rush and doesn’t give me much time, especially now that I want Molly to know how I feel about her. But, I think, maybe it’s better to just go. It will be easier for everyone if I don’t say anything. I don’t want to hurt Molly or myself with a clumsy goodbye. I’m not even sure about what it is I want to say.
My alarm wakes me. I lie for a few minutes before moving. Then, as if someone has plugged me into the mains, I jump out of bed, pull on my running gear, and head out of the house.
Running always clears my head. The rhythmic stride of feet on paving inflates my lungs and pumps the blood around my heart. I feel alive. Charged up. Ready for anything. After my run, I shower and start packing. It doesn’t take long. I don’t have much stuff but the weight of leaving this place is heavy in my chest. I always knew that this day would come, but it doesn’t make things any easier. I throw my backpack, a suitcase, and box onto the back seat of my car, along with the additional bedding and towels that I’ve stuffed carelessly into the bags they came in. I close the front door of number four and pause to look over at Molly’s house all snug and cozy, like the first time I saw it.
Molly’s not at home. She’s at the library. I send a message rather than call. She’s probably busy with library visitors or maybe she’s in the office cataloguing letters or photos. I picture her putting together a display or helping someone find a book they’re after. I think about just stopping by to surprise her, but I don’t know if that would be a good idea. I desperately want to see her and hold her before I go. But it might be awkward for her; heart-breaking for me.
I lean my elbows on the roof of the car and look at the screen of my phone waiting for a reply. I’m packed up and ready to go but I feel stuck. I can’t move on until I hear back from Molly. I feel ridiculous hanging around on the driveway of a house I’ve just vacated. I hope no one sees. All I need now is for Ernie to come over and ask me what I’m doing. My answer? I don’t know. And that’s the honest truth. I really don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
Thankfully, my phone beeps. A message.
Hi Cam. So happy you’re safe. I’d love to see you but I’m really busy today. Please get in touch when you’re here again. All the best. Take care. x
I read Molly’s message over and over. She doesn’t want to see me. That’s clear.
As if momentum is a drug to dull pain, I jump into the driver’s seat and back out of the driveway onto Bristol Lane and away down the road. A song plays on the radio. What are the words? No regrets, no tears goodbye. Seems like an appropriate coincidence. I laugh, shake my head, and turn off the radio.
Oak River town center is just the same as when I arrived. The grand civic buildings in the central square seem incongruous, left over from a history of landowners and merchants from days gone by. Some people wave hello as I pull up outside the real estate agent to drop off the key. I smile fondly at the faces I recognize. I might not know names, but I feel a warmth for the friendly folk here. It’s not only Molly that I’ll miss: it’s the whole town and everyone in it. But my life in the city has been on hold for too long. So long that my life in Oak River seems more real. I’m sure I’ll pick things up where I left off when I get back.
Inside the agency office, Ms Jenkins is at her desk. She smiles when I enter.
“Mr Wickham,” she says. “How time flies. And now you’re leaving us. That’s sad.”
I hand over the keys and sign some papers.
“I’ll refund your deposit after the routine inspection. If there’s nothing broken or damaged, beyond regular wear and tear, you can expect the refund in around seven working days.” She leans forward on her elbows. “Do you have any questions at all, regarding the procedure?”
“No ma’am. Everything seems very straightforward. Thank you.”
I stand up and I’m about to go then I stop. An idea. A dream, perhaps, almost leaps from my unconscious, but I hold it in check before it reaches my open mouth. An idea about buying a place here in Oak River. Something not too fancy, with a yard, maybe. I want to enquire about prices, about how much I would need as downpayment. I close my mouth again and smile.
“Is there something else I can help you with, Mr Wickham?” Ms Jenkin sits up tall in her chair and looks at me over the top of her glasses.
“Ah, no. No, thank you.” I start walking toward the door. “Have a great day.”
