Laura’s wry tone acknowledged the hesitation before Tim had found something physical to praise. ‘I’m also short, fat and I wear glasses.’
‘So?’
‘So men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.’
Tim’s snort was much more definite than Laura’s had been. He grinned again. ‘So take them off when you want someone to make a pass at you.’
Laura laughed. If only it was that easy. Even the wry amusement lifted her spirits, however. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re a nice person, Tim?’
‘Nah. The last woman that dumped me had a considerable command of adjectives that let me know precisely how boring I am.’
‘You’re not boring, Tim.’ Laura pulled the ambulance to a halt and then started backing into the garage. ‘You’re dependable. Safe.’
‘Ha! Safe is pretty close to boring if you ask me. Women want excitement, not safety.’
‘There’s a woman out there who’s going to find safe pretty exciting.’ Laura smiled at Tim. ‘Hey, you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I love working with you.’ It was just such a shame it hadn’t been Tim she’d fallen in love with, but life was never that neat, was it?
‘We do have fun, don’t we?’
‘Sure do. I can’t believe I’ve been here for six months already. Seems like only last week I was wondering what it would be like to be stationed with a fire crew instead of just ambulance.’ Laura climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked around to join Tim at the back of the vehicle. ‘I still haven’t got over how funny they are, though.’
‘What?’
‘The boots.’ Laura pointed to where the crew’s heavy footwear was lined up, the tops of the boots protruding through the rolled-down legs of protective over-trousers. ‘It looks for all the world like a crew was standing around the truck and they all got vaporised by some alien force or something.’
‘Makes for a quick getaway.’
‘I know.’ Laura had seen Jason and his colleagues respond to a call. Feet slid into boots, over-trousers were yanked up and secured by elastic braces, and matching, heavy, mustard-yellow jackets with reflecting stripes were grabbed from the locker room along with helmets. The items of protective outer clothing were always left in precisely the same position on returning to the station, which left the officers wearing their uniforms of black trousers and navy blue T-shirts emblazoned with the red and white fire service logo.
As they were now. Laura and Tim had elected to wait until closer to the end of their shift before restocking and cleaning the ambulance. They had enough supplies if they got another call, and tempting fate by having a freshly prepared truck for the oncoming crew was not a good idea this close to their finishing time of seven a.m. A late call after a busy night such as they’d just had would not be welcome.
They entered the old house through the automatic side door that now joined it to the large, purpose-built garaging. The spacious lounge that ran nearly the whole width of the lower floor had become a common room, filled with comfortable furniture. The couches and chairs were being well patronised by weary men at the moment, half of whom had their feet resting on the coffee-tables. The other half had their footwear resting on the arms of the couches.
‘In the name of St Bride!’ Laura did her best to imitate the broad accent that fifty years of living in New Zealand hadn’t dampened in Mrs McKendry’s case. ‘How many times do I have to tell you boys to keep your dratted feet off that furniture?’
To her delight, the accent and surprise factor were enough to initiate a guilty leap into compliance. Her laughter caused more than one head to turn, and then the amusement was general.
‘Good one, Laura!’ Tim shook his head at the firemen. ‘You should have seen yourselves jump!’
‘Lucky I didn’t scream,’ Cliff complained. ‘She’s just as scary as Mrs M.’
‘Ah…but can she cook bacon and eggs?’
‘And polish the furniture?’
‘And get nasty stains out of any clothes?’
‘Even Mrs M. couldn’t get the stains out of your underwear, Stick.’
Laura shook her head and flopped into the nearest available armchair during the laughter that followed the last flippant remark. Maybe she was just too tired to feel amused. Or maybe the idea that she might measure up to the perfect housekeeper cut a little too close to the bone. She could do all those things but she wasn’t going to be some man’s housekeeper ever again. Not when that ended up being the main attraction she possessed.
Several pairs of eyes were fastened on the wall clock.
‘It’s 6.15.’
‘Mmm. That bacon will be in the pan any minute now.’
‘Why don’t you do it for yourselves for once?’
That wasn’t a suggestion one of the boys would have considered making. Laura found she had caused a brief but rather surprised silence. Jason looked positively bewildered.
‘What…and make Mrs M. feel like she’s not wanted?’
Laura’s sigh revealed that she didn’t have the energy to try and re-educate the men around her. Maybe it was an impossible task anyway. Was that why John had never lifted a finger in the kitchen? Or the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter? Had he, in fact, been a kind and caring partner who had simply been trying to show her how much he’d needed her? Ha!
‘She would be upset.’ Tim’s glance was speculative and Laura knew she deserved the gentle reprimand. The men of Inglewood station might complain and joke about Jean McKendry when she wasn’t around, but she was part of the family if anyone else tried it. And the kitchen was strictly her domain during her ‘office’ hours.
‘We’ve never asked her to do any of the stuff she does for us, you know,’ Bruce added. ‘She’s just become an institution—ever since she popped over with a plate of scones the day this station opened five years ago.’
‘Yeah, it just grew.’ Cliff nodded. ‘By the end of the year she was here every day, all day, cleaning and cooking.’
‘And making sure we all had a clean hanky.’
‘At least she gets paid for it now,’ Bruce told Laura. ‘And we all put in to buy all the food she insists on cooking us.’
‘She loves us,’ Jason said. He still looked puzzled. ‘She wants to do it.’
‘I know.’ Laura smiled. ‘She’s wonderful and we’re the envy of any other peripheral city station. Sorry.’ She pushed her glasses up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m just tired, I guess, and from where I’m sitting it’s easy to take offence at the idea of a perfect woman’s attributes being how easy she can make life for others.’
The second brief silence had a contrite air to it.
‘Hey, we weren’t getting at you,
