Saved By The Cops.

Chapter Ten. Cal.

Chapter Ten. Cal.



“Where is the milk?” Headache shouts across the communal room, from the kitchen area.

I look over my shoulder at him and shrug my shoulders.

“The f*****g Milk thief is at it again, and I need a coffee, because I have a caffeine withdrawal headache coming on,” he adds under his breath.

Trust me, if it wasn’t caffeine withdrawal there would be some other excuse for his permanent headache he claims to have.

I am on early shift for the next four days. Thank God for Joanne, who comes to my house for half five in the morning, to get the kids ready and take them to school when I am on earlies. Even if she does give them to many sweets for my liking. She thinks I don’t know, but my daughter has a big mouth and tells me what she took to school with her every day. I don’t mind. Not really, if it wasn’t for Joanne, my sister Lucy’s support, and Mel the nanny, I wouldn’t be able to do this job I love.

I got here at just before six, this morning, to find Davy the station officer in his usual spot at the end of the long sofa, reading his Sunderland Echo from the previous night. He does it every shift, in the exact same spot he used to occupy before getting his own office. If he doesn’t, he maintains that we will have a s**t day. But don’t dare tell him he is superstitious, as he will vehemently deny it. But. He is superstitious, trust me on that. He moved to his office as soon as Yellow Watch left the building, his newspaper under his arm. We got an immediate shout, a small fire in a park curtesy of the local kids. It was easily put out, but we didn’t have time for our morning cupper or breakfast before we had to slide down the pole and get into the engine.

“f**k sake Headache, it is only milk,” Carl one of my team shouts over to him.

Headache gives him a look like a summons, shaking his head and letting out a low growl.

“It is the third time we have been on shift that ALL the milk has gone. Somebody is stealing it!” Headache shouts, clearly pissed off about his lack of coffee.

“Maybe you should head next door and report it to Jason or Smithy,” I sarcastically tell him.

“I just might do that!” Headache says, sounding like he is seriously considering it, if the phantom milk stealer doesn’t stop soon.

Davy walks out of his office, no sooner than his black shiny boot steps into the common room, Headache is giving him the low down on the missing l****s of milk.

“There is a f*****g shop across the road, go get some,” Davy groans at him.

“Guinevere, head over to the shop, will you?” Headache shouts to the rookie.

His name is Arthur, but the lads all nick named him after the king Arthurs wife, when he first arrived, due to his long hair fashioned in a permanent man bun.

“It’s shut,” Guinevere shouts back.

“What do you mean it is shut?” Headache asks, his facing turning bright red with anger. No wonder he always has a headache; he looks like his blood pressure has just gone through the roof.

“Closed down last week,” the rookie tells him.

“What, permanently?” Stan one of the other guys on our engine, who joined the team a year ago from Blue Watch, asks with a frown.

“Aye. Did you not know?” Guinevere asks.

“Did you know?” Headache looks at me accusingly.

“I knew it said it was closing, but I presumed Lidl or Aldi would take it over, from the co-op” I shrug.

“You could have told me!” Headache grumbles.

I don’t say anything in response, because A) it is not my place to tell everyone about the local amenities, and B) I just don’t care about milk that much. I can drink my coffee black. In fact, I prefer it.

“Is there none of that powdered shite in the cupboard?” Davy asks.

“No, that’s gone as well,” Headache huffs.

“Look, I will call Joanne and ask if she minds bringing a pint down for us, but she is doing the school run now, it is almost nine am,” I say, in a bid to keep the peace.

“No. It is not Joanne’s job to run after us lot. She retired to look after whip-me. I know she doesn’t mind, but we will do without,” Davy says.

I cannot help but agree with him. Headache goes to complain, but our station officer is saved by the bell, literally.

We each run to the pole, and slide down it, putting our boots on that are perfectly lined up beside the engine, and jump inside. Headache starting the engine, and putting the sirens on, as the lights on the small poles in front of the garage flash red.

“What have we got, boss?” Stan asks Davy.

“Fire in a warehouse over by Nissan. Ben and his crew are already on scene, but they need back up,” Davy informs us, then goes quiet. As do I, and Headache. The last time there was a fire around there it ended in disaster, causing the loss of one of our crew, Wayne. The newbies to the engine, however, chat happily together, as we each pull on our fire safety equipment.

I glance out of the window, as we whizz up the A19 the cars all slowing and moving over for us or swapping lanes to give us a clear road ahead. He comes off the slip road, taking a left down towards the warehouse. I can see the yellow flames with a blue tinge to them, already, as they dance high into the sky.

“s**t,” I mutter under my breath, however, Guinevere being a rookie looks at it like all his Christmases have come at one. He is still in the honeymoon phase of working as a firefighter, almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of fighting it. Yeah, I remember those days well, but the shine soon wears off. Trust me. Don’t get me wrong I am not afraid of fire but do now have a healthy respect for it. Ben, my brother-in-law has the scars to prove the damage it can do to you. Then there is the framed picture on the wall at the station of Wayne, a reminder that the flames we fight sometimes win the war we rage against it.

Headache pulls the engine up beside the one from Marley Potts station, as Davy jumps out, his white helmet firmly on his head, as he makes a beeline to Ben.

I jump down, ensuring my yellow helmet is in place, and run round the back of the engine, getting the hose ready to fight the fire, pulling it out, as Stan stands behind me, helping take the weight, as we rush forward into position waiting for Davy’s instructions.

“Right, nobody is inside, not sure if it is arson, but from the flames, Big Ben thinks it is an electrical fire, so we need the Carbon Dioxide , not water. It is a big one, so we are taking the east side of the building. Let’s remind Ben why Farringdon are the best crew,” Davy shouts across to us, not missing the opportunity to get a dig in at the Marley Pots crew. It is all good fun; he is actually great friends with my brother-in-law.

I run past my sister’s husband, as the quiet giant man gives me a nod of his head, and get into position, as Headache turns on the Carbon Dioxide, and together with Stan, we hold the long yellow hose, aiming directly at the flames, in a bid to kill them before the spread even further and cause a real issue.

The heat of the flames, sting my face, soot clouding my vision, as after five hours, we finally put out the last of the flames, and begin to pack up.

“Was it arson?” Headache asks Ben as we pass him whilst he deals with his own crew.

“Not sure. Don’t think so, I think a cable hit against some water inside. But, Josie is on her way, and will let us know if it is anything we need to be concerned about,” Ben tells them.

“Ooo, do you think she will pop into our station, maybe with some cakes?” Stan asks, rubbing his stomach as if he hasn’t eaten for a month.

Ben chuckles, shaking his head, as Davy shouts at us all to get back into the engine.

Headache starts her up, and pulls out of the area, heading back toward the A19.

“You know what I need?” he asks, I resist the urge to smirk because I know what is coming, and it is about to try Davy’s patience.

“A painkiller or two?” Davy quips, shaking his head.

“No, well yes, my head is pounding. But what I really need is a nice cup of MILKY coffee,” Headache tells him as he snakes through the traffic.

Davy shakes his head and lets out a long sigh.

“Okay, head to Sainsbury’s, we will get you some f*****g milk, but then I don’t want to hear another f*****g word about it!” the station officer growls, as I chuckle under my breath.