White-Hot Christmas (20 page)

He sipped the whisky again. “I’d not thought about it before. I’ve seen other people with children, watched them be so protective, so defensive of them, even when they’re annoying little brats. I never understood before. You see people crying over starving kids in Africa, and Mum always gets tearful when she hears of children being mistreated, but I never saw them as anything other than young adults, if you know what I mean.”

“Sort of.” She smiled.

“I know it sounds stupid but I never understood why they needed special treatment, why, on the
Titanic
, it was women and children first. I mean I’ve been brought up to believe that’s what you do, as a male, but I never
understood
why.”

“But that changed today.”

He nodded. “There were five people caught in the bus. Three adults and two kids.”

“Yes, I saw the news.”

“We got the kids’ mother out but had to cut a hole in the side by the window to access the others. There was just enough room to squeeze through. We couldn’t make it any bigger because the bus had compacted and there was too much metal to cut through—we knew the petrol tank was going to catch fire any minute.”

“Why did you volunteer? I thought you weren’t supposed to be the first in any more.”

He met her eyes, then looked away. He stared at the glass in his hand and swirled the amber liquid around the ice. “After we cut the hole,” he said, ignoring her question, “I went in and got hold of the little girl…” He took a sip of the whisky.

Merle waited patiently, puzzled. She knew he must have gone on hundreds of jobs during his career. But something had affected him tonight, more than usual, and she hoped he’d be able to open up to her and let her help him.

Chapter Sixteen

“She was crying, but she was okay, I could see she wasn’t injured. She’d managed to undo her seat belt, you see, and had crawled forward, but her brother…he couldn’t get his seat belt undone, he was only four years old…” His stopped again, sipped his whisky.

Tears stung Merle’s eyes as he struggled to tell her what had happened. “Where was he?”

“Behind the others. The girl didn’t want to leave him, but I made her come with me. I tried to be comforting and reassuring, but she kept crying, so I yelled at her.” His eyes met hers briefly, then he looked away.

“You only did what you had to.” She squeezed his hand.

He shrugged. “Eventually she came with me and I got her out and went back for the other two adults. I had to get them out first because they were blocking the way to the boy. He was screaming…” He stopped, cleared his throat. “I crawled through the bus—it was upside down, remember. I reached him and realised he’d twisted himself in the seat belt trying to right himself and it had locked. It wouldn’t release. It was getting tighter and tighter. He was so frightened. I was about to cut him free when the tank exploded.”

Merle’s face was wet, but she hardly noticed.

“The sound was deafening, and the blast knocked him out. There was smoke everywhere. I shared my BA—sorry, that’s my breathing apparatus—with him, but I wasn’t sure if he was breathing, and there wasn’t time to give him first aid. I cut him loose and dragged him out—that’s when I realised there was a sheet of metal blocking the way and I had to shoulder it down. I started to panic. I could see the fire at the end, and for a while, the blockage wouldn’t budge. But eventually I got through, and a couple of the guys were waiting there to pull him out.” He sipped the whisky again. “Apparently he’s alive, but he’s got a serious head injury where he was knocked out in the blast.”

“At least he’s alive,” she reminded him again. “Completely due to you, Neon.”

“If only I’d been quicker, got him out sooner…”

“Sweetheart, you did your best, you can’t do more than that.”

He shook his head. “He was so frightened, but when he saw me, he reached out for me. He kept calling me ‘Fireman Sam’. He knew who I was, see, he knew I was there to rescue him. I feel so bad, Merle, I didn’t do it in time, and I keep thinking, if I feel this bad and it’s someone else’s child, how much worse would it be if it were mine? You’d want to protect your kids from the world but you can’t, you know?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Twenty-eight, and I’m only just beginning to understand the bond between a parent and child. How pathetic is that.”

Tears were pouring down her face now, but she brushed them aside and got to her knees, leaning forward to kiss him on his lips, his cheeks. “Neon, you’re the bravest man I know. You did everything you could to save that little boy, and he’ll be able to thank you himself. I know he’s going to be okay, he’ll pull through.” She put her arms around him. “One day, you’ll meet the right woman, and you’ll get married. You’ll have kids of your own, and you’ll be such a great dad—you’ll be able to read Fireman Sam stories to them, and take them for rides in the fire engine, and they’ll be able to wear your hat…” He gave a short laugh and she smiled, cupping his face, although she thought her heart was going to splinter in two. “You’re tired now, and it’s been a hell of a day. You just need some sleep.”

He looked up, his gaze meeting hers, and she caught her breath. His eyes glistened with unshed tears like two disks of polished mahogany left out in the rain. He looked so sad, and she still wasn’t sure why.

He let out a shaky breath. “I won’t be able to sleep. I keep hearing him screaming in my head. It won’t go away.” His voice broke, and he tipped his head back, bringing his arm up across his face, breathing heavily.

Neon was so tired he could sleep for a fortnight, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to close his eyes with the little boy’s cries echoing in his head.

Truth to tell, though, that wasn’t the only reason he was feeling like he’d been hollowed out with a spoon. When Merle had asked him earlier why he’d volunteered to go into the bus, he hadn’t been able to tell her he’d done it because he wanted to place himself in danger, was even hoping something bad might happen to him, so it might distract him from the pain he was feeling inside.

Now he lay back on the bed, knowing she was there for him, and it was like the best moment and the worst moment of his life rolled into one. When he’d seen her standing in the entrance to the station, for a moment he’d thought he was dreaming. When he saw the hesitation in her eyes and realised she actually was there, relief had flooded through him that he wasn’t going to have to go home alone.

Now, though, he wondered if he had been wise agreeing to bring her back with him. They’d done the difficult parting, harsh as it had been, and now he was going to have to do it all again.

He let his arm drop, knowing his eyes were wet, unable to meet her gaze. He needed another drink. The only way he was going to be able to get through this night was to immerse himself in alcohol, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to walk to the kitchen. He could ask Merle to get him a drink. She’d said in the shower she was there as a friend, and he knew she’d do it for him. His mother had probably sent her. Somehow, Julia knew Merle was special to him. But what was she trying to achieve by it? No good could come of this night, none at all.

It was starting to get dark, but they hadn’t put on any lamps, and the room had subsided into semidarkness. Merle had been studying him quietly, and now she leaned forward and kissed his chest, placing her lips lightly across the bruises on his rib cage, caused when the exploding tank had thrown him against the seats. He sighed, knowing he would be no good to her tonight, but too tired to do anything other than lie there and accept her gentle touch, so soft against his skin. He closed his eyes, but instantly he could see the inside of the bus, the frightened faces of the children, and hear the bang of the explosion and the billow of the smoke, grey and thick as a blanket. He’d had his breathing apparatus on, but he’d still been able to smell the acrid stench as it rolled over him.

His eyes flew open and he swore.

Merle paused for a moment, then continued to kiss him, soft, velvet kisses leading along his ribs to his belly, following the line of hair down. She undid the tie of his robe and pushed it aside, kissing across the flat of his stomach, and he felt the warm brush of her tongue against a bruise on his left hip where he’d lain on something sharp. Her lips carried on kissing across his stomach to his other hip.

In spite of his tiredness, his body responded to her. He heaved a shaky sigh. Her mouth continued its trail across him, soft and gentle, her touch showing how much she cared about him and how much she wanted to make him feel better. She shifted on the bed, and her lips brushed his pubic hair, then her tongue traced up the length of his erection.

He caught his breath, his hand touching her hair. “Merle…” It was one of the few things she hadn’t done to him in their time together, and he hadn’t wanted to ask—not that it had been a problem, there had always been plenty other things to do in bed. Now, however, he wondered if it was the right time. She lifted her head, pausing for a moment.

Then he realised for the past few minutes he hadn’t thought about anything but the touch of her lips. He looked up at the ceiling, smiling wryly, remembering how she’d licked the ice lolly, driving him wild—had it really only been a week ago? Even now, when he was in the pit of despair, she knew how to make him feel better.

He didn’t look at her, but he threaded his hands through her hair gently. Understanding, she lowered her lips again. And as her warm mouth surrounded him, he finally closed his eyes, thinking of nothing but the sensations she created within him, desire running through his veins, firing his blood.

Afterward, she curled up against him, warming him through, and he dozed for a while, his exhaustion finally taking over.

He woke about an hour and a half later, his heart thudding, his ears filled with the noises and sounds of the day, but Merle took him in her arms and murmured to him, stroking his hair, kissing him and singing to him softly, and eventually sleep took him again.

It happened twice more in the night, and a third time as the sky was starting to lighten, making his eyes fly open with a start. This time, though, he hadn’t been dreaming about the boy and the fire. He’d been standing on the edge of a dock, and Merle had been on the ship heading out to sea. He’d seen her pale form standing by the railing, disappearing into the mist, but although he called out to her, she couldn’t hear him, and the darkened sky swallowed her up.

No need to have studied Freud to be able to figure that one out. He shifted on the bed, glad he hadn’t woken her. She lay facing him, the blue veins of her eyelids visible in the rising light, breathing nice and regularly, completely relaxed. His muscles were sore and stiff. He wasn’t ready to get up. He normally only needed four or five hours’ sleep, but after such a heavy day, he could easily lie in until eight or nine o’clock. He still had work though, and had set the alarm for six thirty as usual. An hour to doze with her before they had to go. Nice.

Merle woke at a quarter past six to find him in a deep sleep for the first time that night, sprawled out on three-quarters of the bed in a tangle of duvet. Quietly she slipped out and turned off his alarm, then studied him for a while. He’d been restless all night, but now he seemed to be dreamless, his breathing slow and regular.

She went outside and pulled the door almost closed, then walked into the living room and picked up the phone, dialling Julia’s number. “It’s Merle,” she said when Julia answered. “Sorry to call you so early.”

“It’s okay, I was up. Everything all right?”

“He’s fine, but he had a restless night, nightmares I think. He’s sleeping now though, and I was wondering, should I let the alarm wake him? I think he could do with a couple of extra hours, but I know he’s supposed to work this morning…”

“If he’s sleeping, let him sleep. I’ll ring the station and tell them he’ll be in a bit later today. He’s never off sick. They’ll be okay with that.”

“Okay, Julia, thanks.”

“Oh, Merle?”

“Yes?”

“Happy New Year.”

Of course, it was January the first. Merle smiled. “Happy New Year to you too.”

“I’ll speak to you later.” Julia hung up.

Merle made herself a coffee, sat and drank it, looking out at the early sunshine and the fantails hopping about on the deck, and the blue pukekos with their red beaks and huge feet wandering around on the lawn. Then she went back into the bedroom and slid carefully under the covers, curling on her side and watching him sleep, wishing she could stay there forever. She loved him so much. Talking to him the night before about having children had been like a revelation. The thought of staying with him, getting married, having kids, growing old together, would be like winning the lottery and finding a genie in a lamp rolled into one, but she knew it was never going to happen. Surely, Ella and all the other women he’d been with had felt the same way too. But dreams of being with him were like the soap bubbles children blow into the wind—if you tried to catch one, it burst in your hands. It would always be like that, until he met the one lucky woman who finally captured his heart. What would she be like? What qualities would she have that would make him finally feel differently about her than about all the women he’d been with? Or was it more to do with changes in himself? Maybe as he grew older he’d be less anti-commitment and he’d settle, like most people had to, and it would be pure luck whichever woman was around at the time.

He was beginning to stir, and she sighed, seeing it all drawing to a close.

He turned his head and looked at her, his face breaking into a smile, then saw how light it was and twisted back to look at the clock. He sat up hurriedly. “Shit, I’m late! What happened to the alarm?”

“I turned it off.” Merle worried he’d be angry she’d interfered with his work. “I spoke to your mum, and she was going to ring the station and say you’d be in late. We thought it best you get as much sleep as you could.”

He studied her, his face unreadable, running a hand through his hair. Then he smiled. “Actually that’s kind of a relief. It was a rough night.”