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Ellie was allowed down from the table and disappeared off into a corner, clutching her fire engine and a red colouring crayon. Cass leaned back in her chair, her plate empty.
‘Thank you. Your spaghetti sauce is really tasty.’
Sarah smiled brightly. ‘Would you like the recipe?’
‘If you don’t mind. I’d like to have a go at this myself.’
Somehow Jack hadn’t imagined Cass doing anything as mundane as exchanging recipes. Charging to the rescue seemed more her style. Or maybe testing her strength against his at midnight, under a starry sky. But, when he thought about it, the idea of coming home to find her cooking was equally intoxicating.
‘You cook?’ He smiled, as if the question were a mere pleasantry.
‘I like to eat.’ She grinned back. ‘That generally involves cooking first.’
‘I’ll email it through to you. Text me your email address.’ Sarah collected the plates and turned to the refrigerator. ‘Anyone for cheesecake?’
Cass’s grin indicated that she was more than a match for cheesecake.
* * *
Ellie had presented her with a picture. A large figure, which seemed to be her, from the amount of red crayon that had been applied around the head, towering over a red box on wheels. Cass hugged the little girl, genuinely delighted, and felt Ellie plant a kiss on her cheek.
Jack had pencilled in her name under the figure and Ellie had returned to her corner to laboriously trace out the letters, her tongue stuck out in concentration. Then it was time to leave. Cass bade Sarah and Ellie goodbye and waited in the car while Jack hugged his daughter.
He dodged out, rain spattering his jacket, and Cass whipped Ellie’s picture off the front passenger seat before he sat on it.
‘Not a bad likeness.’ He smiled at her.
‘She’s even put a ladder in.’ Cass indicated the miniature ladder that the giant figure was brandishing.
‘Yep. She’s got an eye for detail, even if she’s a bit wobbly on scale still.’ He regarded the picture thoughtfully. ‘And your hair...’
‘Yeah. Rub it in.’ Sometimes Cass wondered whether her hair was all people saw about her. The phrase ‘flame-haired firefighter’ had worn thin a while ago.
He gave her a reproachful look. ‘I was going to say that Ellie did her best with the colours she had. It would be a bit much to ask for her to do it justice.’
The look in his eye told Cass that this was a compliment. The thought that Jack liked her hair suddenly made all the jokes about it worthwhile.
‘Would you mind if we stopped off at my place? I want to get a change of clothes...’
Cass caught her breath. Maybe the change of clothes was just for today. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about staying. She didn’t dare ask.
‘Yes, if you want.’
‘That’s if I still have a bed for tonight, in the church hall.’
‘Of course you do. Thanks.’
‘And if we could stop at the phone shop as well—it’s on our way, and hopefully I’ll have a replacement phone waiting for me.’ He grinned. ‘I called them this morning and asked, told them it was an emergency and that I’m a paramedic. The woman on the other end was really helpful.’
The grey, clouded sky suddenly seemed warmer, less forbidding. Cass started the engine, craning around to see over the boxes stacked in the back of the SUV, and reversed out of Sarah’s drive.
Jack’s house was only ten minutes away. He motioned for her to follow him inside and left her in the sitting room while he disappeared upstairs.
The room had a nice feel to it. A little battered in places, which was clearly the result of a four-year-old’s exuberance, and the toys in the corner were stacked anyhow, as if they’d been hurriedly cleared away before Jack left for a day’s work. But it was comfortable. The way a home should be. A sudden vision of her own ruined home floated in front of her eyes and Cass blinked it away.
The open fireplace was obviously used, coal heaped in a scuttle beside it. The dark leather sofa was squashy and comfortable, piled with cushions, a couple of throws across the back rest. Bookshelves, on either side of the chimney piece, were stacked full, the bottom shelf clearly reserved for Ellie, as it contained children’s picture books. The very top shelf boasted a set of leather-bound books and Cass squinted up at the gold leaf titles on their spines. She couldn’t read all of them, the words that were faded and cracked were a bit too much for her, but it was obviously a set of Victorian classics.
Some framed photographs obscured the backs of the books on the lower shelves. Pictures of Ellie, growing up. Jack, with Ellie on his shoulders. A woman, sitting on an elephant, her bright blonde hair obviously owing more to a bottle of peroxide than nature. It was impossible to tell whether Ellie’s mother was like her at all; her face was twisted into an open-mouthed expression of exhilaration.
