The Rebel And Miss Jones

Self-pity wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Emptying the contents of the kitchen drawers at least secured a battery radio and Sara switched it on, scanning for a local station. Surely they’d be putting out information on some kind of regular basis.

Carrying the radio with her, she quickly filled a couple of bags with what she hoped were Simon’s most valued possessions and put them in the hall. She pulled on a pair of jeans and made her way around the outside of the house, pulling the fire shutters down over the windows and back door as Trader ran back and forth, trying to urge her away from the ever more pungent smell of smoke, which was beginning to hang in the air like a dirty fog.

A tone sounded from the radio, and she held it to her ear, straining to catch every word. It didn’t help much, mentioning places that she’d only half heard of and could be anywhere, and fire alert statuses that could mean anything. She understood the urgency, though. Evacuate. Be safe. Nearest low-risk area.

There was nowhere to go. She was without a car and even if she could remember the way to the nearest town, she knew that trying to walk the twenty or so miles there would be madness. Simon had designed this house himself, and put all his architectural expertise and experience of local building techniques and conditions into it. The shutters were designed to keep burning embers from getting into the house, and the mud-brick walls would afford some protection if the blaze was not too intense. If the worst came to the worst, she and Trader were just going to have to sit it out and hope for the best.

The thought made her feel sick. Gulping back tears, Sara turned to the only living creature that might give her any comfort. ‘He won’t forget us, Trader.’ The animal seemed to sense her anxiety and nosed at her hand. ‘It’s probably not as bad as we think it is. Perhaps the wind will change …’

She stiffened, straining to see, as she caught a glimpse of something that looked like more smoke, this time on the dirt road leading to the front of the house. There was movement, and the flash of something bright in the sunlight. Just as dread began to grip her, squeezing all of the air from her lungs, she made out what it was. A vehicle, moving at speed and kicking up dust as it went. It could only be coming to one place. That track only led here.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Sara ran back into the house, pulling the red tablecloth from the table and sending the wooden bowls in the centre of it crashing to the floor behind her. Whoever it was wouldn’t be able to hear her yet, but she shouted anyway, waving the tablecloth over her head.

‘Sit, Trader.’ Sara strained to see any sign that the driver of the SUV had seen her. Nothing. She waved the cloth again and this time, through her tears of frustration, she saw something. Headlights, three short flashes and then a pause, and another three flashes. Just to make sure, she waved again. Another three flashes.

‘Thank you.’ She whispered the words under her breath, to no one in particular, her chest heaving. ‘It’s all right, see, Trader. Someone’s coming.’

By the time the SUV had skidded to a halt outside the house Trader was barking joyfully, pulling her towards the man who swung the door open and got out.

She could have hugged him. If he’d been middle-aged, with a paunch, she might have. But this was the kind of man you didn’t just walk up to and hug without having to accuse yourself of an ulterior motive. Tall, broad and with blue eyes, bright against his tanned skin. Thick blond hair that looked as if it hadn’t been combed in a while, which just added to the general look of a handsome adventurer.

‘Sara? Sara Jones?’ He was striding towards her and she nodded, lost for words. ‘Simon sent me to fetch you.’

This wasn’t the moment to ask why he hadn’t come sooner. Neither was it the time for the normal reservations about getting into strangers’ cars. Trader seemed to know him and at his command gave off trying to lick his hand and trotted to the SUV, jumping in and settling quietly on the back seat.

‘We have to hurry.’ The stranger didn’t seem disposed to stop for questions anyway, and had already taken the steps up to the veranda two at a time, twisting the handle of the front door and turning to her in surprise when it didn’t budge.

‘I’ve got the key here.’ Sara hurried after him, pulling the single key from her pocket. In her agitation it slipped through her fingers, bouncing next to her bare feet on the decking and sliding through a crack between the boards.

At least he didn’t call her stupid, but that didn’t stop Sara from muttering the word under her breath. He shrugged, starting for the back of the house, and Sara ran after him. ‘I locked the doors at the back too. Maybe we could lever one of the boards up. I think I can get my arm through …’

He looked at her in frank disbelief. ‘Yeah, maybe. Stand back.’ Before she could stop him he had shouldered the door and it burst inwards, snapping back against the wall.

‘Did you have to do that?’ The door had smashed into the table in the hallway, sending a glass bowl crashing onto the floor, and broken shards were everywhere. Just because her habit of locking doors was a little over the top for this neck of the woods, it didn’t mean he had to go caveman on her.

He turned, taking her by the shoulders. ‘Sara, we don’t have any time.’ The look on his face was making her tremble.

‘But you can’t even see the fire yet …’

‘If you can see a fire, it’s too late to run. At the moment we have two options, staying here to fight it or getting out. We’re not properly prepared for the first and the second isn’t going to be available for much longer.’ He was focussed, calm, and Sara began to divine that breaking the door down had not been an overreaction. ‘It’s going to be okay, Sara, but if we’re leaving, we need to do it now.’

There was something in his eyes that made her trust him. Something about the brief smile he gave her. She’d made a few bad decisions in her life, but hopefully this wasn’t going to be one of them. ‘Yes … okay.’

‘Good. Thank you.’ Before she could ask him what would happen next, he had lifted her up in his arms, carrying her into the house, his boots scrunching on the broken glass. ‘Have you got a pair of heavy boots and a thick cotton jacket?’

‘Yes. But it’s too hot …’

‘Heavy clothes will protect you. Cotton is less flammable than man-made materials.’ There was no arguing with him, and Sara didn’t particularly want him to elaborate on a situation where she might need heavy cotton clothing to protect her. Hopefully he was just being over-cautious.

He let her down, and she bolted to her bedroom. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking that despite the smoky smell of his clothes the scent of his skin was alluring, or that the sheer power in his arms and shoulders was somehow reassuring.

When she emerged from her room, the hallway was empty of the bundles that she’d left there and her new companion was rummaging in the refrigerator, two large bottles of water under his arm.

‘Ready to go?’

‘Yes.’ She mustn’t hesitate now. Mustn’t go and check the house to make sure everything was secure. If Simon had trusted this stranger, then she had to do so.

‘Good.’ He turned to her, kicking the fridge door closed. His gaze flicked over her with an audacity that made her shiver, and Sara called a mental reality check. He was just making sure that she wasn’t wearing anything that might catch light. ‘Have you got everything?’

‘Yes.’ Her passport and valuables were in the large leather handbag she had slung across her body. That was all she needed.

‘Let’s go, then.’

He hurried her to the SUV and then went back to draw the shutter down over the shattered front door. Sara craned her neck to keep the house in view as the car described a wide arc and bumped back down the dirt track towards the road.

‘Reece Fletcher. Nice to meet you, Sara.’

‘What?’ All her attention was on the house, trying to fix it into her memory as if that would somehow ensure that it would still be standing when she returned. It had been Simon’s dream to build this house, and the thought of it being reduced to ashes was impossibly cruel.

‘Will you keep your eye on the road ahead of us for me?’

‘What for?’ She swung round, scanning the empty road, before she realised that Reece was just giving her something to do so she wouldn’t be staring out of the back window of the car for the next five miles, straining for a last glimpse of the house.

‘Just look.’ His voice was gentler now. ‘And if you could open one of those bottles of water, that would be great. You’ll find a couple of plastic beakers in the glove compartment.’

‘Right.’ Now that they were on the road, the lines of tension in Reece’s face had relaxed and Sara drew her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on, only partly to shade her eyes from the glare. At least when he’d been ordering her around, she’d been able to respond without feeling the need to cry on his shoulder.

Time for another reality check. She’d just been rescued. Wanting to cling to Reece was a perfectly natural reaction. Deal with it.

‘Nice to meet you too, Reece. Thanks for coming.’ She handed him half a cup of water and he downed it in one go, passing the cup back to her for a refill.

‘No worries. I’ll phone Simon when we get into range of a signal, let him know that we’re on our way.’ Although the road was empty, he was still watchful, his gaze flipping constantly from the road to the rear-view mirrors.

‘Thanks.’ Sara supposed that she ought to ask, even if she didn’t much want to know why it had taken so long for Reece to come for her. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s okay, but he’s in the hospital. No burns, but he has a compound break to his leg. That means—’

‘I know.’ Sara struggled to control the panic which rose in her chest. ‘I mean, I know what that means, I’m a paramedic.’

He nodded slowly, as if he’d just remembered. ‘Then you’ll know that he needed an operation to set the leg. That was done last night, and he’s awake now and doing well. He has a crush fracture in his lower back, but that will mend with rest. Some smoke inhalation, but it wasn’t too bad.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘I don’t know the details. He was working on a firebreak when he was injured. They brought him out and airlifted him to hospital. I’m on his list of people to call in case of an accident.’

It was obvious that Simon should choose someone who lived more locally than she did for that, but it still hurt. ‘And he didn’t think to mention that I was out here with Trader?’

Reece shot her a questioning look, the edges of his mouth turned down. ‘He was diverted on his way into the CFA centre, never got the opportunity to tell anyone. And after he was injured he was heavily sedated most of the time. I didn’t know you were here and assumed that Trader was with a neighbour and that the house was empty. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.’