The Firefighter's Fiance

‘Guv, they’ve probably got everyone out. The teachers’ll be waiting in the playground, having ticked all the kids’ names off,’ Kelsey suggested.

‘Maybe. But you know as well as I do that the worst time for us is after-school club—the numbers attending vary, and some of the kids there don’t go there full time so they don’t really know the layout of the building. It’s not like daytime where everyone knows exactly what’s going on. Right, everyone. Full PPE on.’ Personal protective equipment—because this could easily turn nasty. ‘Joe, stay with the vehicle.’

‘Right, guv,’ Joe said as he parked the fire engine.

‘Paul, I want you as BAECO.’ The BAECO, or breathing apparatus entry co-ordinator, kept the control board with all the firefighters’ tallies in place, so he knew who was in the building, how long they’d been in there and when they’d need to be out again.

‘Right, guv,’ Paul said.

‘Kelsey, you and Mark set the hydrant and get extra water while the other crew start putting water on the blaze—the tanks aren’t going to be enough for this.’ Each fire engine carried eighteen hundred litres of water in its tanks—enough to deal with a small bedroom fire in a house, but not enough for what could potentially be a huge blaze.

‘Right, guv,’ they chorused.

The fire alarm was shrilling; there were four adults and a number of children marshalled on the grass at the side of the building furthest from the fire.

One of them came straight over to the fire crew. Clearly the head or one of Finn’s teachers, Kelsey thought from the way she greeted Ray—she obviously knew him.

‘What happened, Brenda?’ he asked.

‘I heard a bang, then the smoke detectors went off. I think the boiler must have exploded,’ Brenda said. ‘I’ve got one of the after-school groups out but the other’s cut off in the far end. One teacher, two assistants and around twenty kids.’

Ray called in to Control. ‘I want another engine in and as many BA sets as you can give me,’ he said. When fighting a fire, the crew went through breathing apparatus sets more quickly than usual, so they needed as many available as possible. ‘We’ve got three adults and twenty or so kids trapped. We’re going to get them out and start on the blaze.’ He turned back to Brenda. ‘Any flammable stuff we need to know about?’

‘Most of the classrooms have art materials. Paper, glue, paint and the like. There’s the chemistry stuff in the lab, but that’s at the far end.’

‘Near the trapped kids. So far, not near the fire. OK, we’ll bear that in mind.’ He nodded and turned to the crew. ‘We’ll split the building into three sectors. Andy and Neil, I want you two in sector one where the boiler is. Pete and Tom, I want you in sector two, the classrooms between the boiler room and the toilets in the middle of the school. Kelsey and Mark, I want you in sector three—the far end of the school. It doesn’t look as if the fire’s there yet so get them out as quickly as you can. We’ll see how the fire’s going after that, and I might need you to work on the science lab.’

They all checked in with Paul, handing him the tallies from their breathing apparatus sets. He slotted them into the board, wrote their names and the time in beside them, checked the pressure of the oxygen cylinders and used the dial to work out the time when they needed to be out, and marked that on the grid next to it.

Kelsey and Mark took axes with them and headed for the classroom at the far end.

‘Has to be a window,’ Mark said.

The windows were tall and narrow, typically Victorian. ‘I’m thinner than you,’ Kelsey said when they’d cleared the glass from one of the frames. ‘Makes sense for me to go in.’ She unbuckled her breathing apparatus.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Mark demanded, sounding shocked.

‘There’s no smoke in the classroom right now so I don’t need my BA set—and, anyway, it’s easier for me to climb through the window without the extra bulk, let alone carrying the thirty pounds of kit,’ Kelsey said. ‘Give us a leg up.’

‘But, Brains—’

‘No time to argue. Let’s get them out.’

‘OK, but I’m putting the BA set through after you. And you make sure you put it on when you get back in,’ he demanded, ‘even if you don’t have the mask on.’

‘Deal.’ She clambered onto the window-sill with Mark’s help and squeezed through the gap, then took the breathing apparatus he pushed through after her. ‘Hi, my name’s Kelsey. You might remember me from last week when Finn’s dad brought the fire engine in,’ she said, smiling at the children. ‘Now, we’re going to have to go out of the room a different way today, because we can’t use the door.’ No smoke was seeping through it yet, but there were no guarantees it would stay that way. ‘Can you all be brave for me?’

Some of the younger ones were sobbing. The sound ripped at her but she forced herself to ignore it. She had a job to do. And her first duty was to calm everyone right down. Giving in to her emotions and crying or screaming herself would just scare everyone and make it harder to get them out.

‘Hey, give us a smile. Makes it easier to lift you,’ she said. She turned to the three adults, who’d been trying to keep the children calm. ‘I need one of you to help me lift the children through the window, and two of you outside—one to help lift them out into the playground and one to check off the names.’

‘I’m Jane, the classroom assistant. I’ll stay inside,’ the youngest one said immediately.

‘Thanks. Can you get them all to line up, littlest at the front? And can you two help me get a table to the window?’ she asked the other two adults.

Together, they dragged a table to the window. The two older women clambered onto the table, squeezed through the window and were helped down by Mark. Then, between them, Kelsey and Jane lifted the children one at a time onto the table and handed them through the window into Mark’s waiting arms.

‘Just think, you can tell your mum what an exciting day you’ve had and how you’ve climbed through the window like a real firefighter,’ Kelsey said, trying to reassure the children.

A couple of the kids were still crying.

‘But it’s not exciting. There’s a fire, we’re trapped and we’re all going to die!’ one of the older kids said, his voice shrill with panic.

‘There’s a fire, yes. But I’m a firefighter and I’m going to put the blaze out,’ she told him calmly. ‘You can’t go through the door, but you’re not trapped because we’re lifting you out through the window. And you are most definitely not going to die. Not when Yellow Watch is here.’

‘Finn’s daddy is a fireman,’ one of them piped up.

‘That’s right. He’s a very good fireman. And he’s my boss. So you’re all going to be absolutely fine,’ Kelsey reassured her, continuing to lift the children out through the window one by one. ‘Just stay still so we can get you through safely, because there’s broken glass around here and I don’t want any of you to get cut.’

But the boy who’d panicked earlier struggled as she lifted him through the window. Immediately, he cried out. ‘My leg!’

He was wearing shorts, so the streak of blood was visible on his leg immediately. Quite a deep cut, from the jagged glass around the smashed window—and there was a chance that there was some glass in the wound. At least it wasn’t spurting blood, she thought, so he hadn’t nicked an artery. ‘OK, sweetheart, we’ll sort you out. Just hold still and we’ll get you out to safety. I know it hurts, but one of the ambulance team will look at your leg and make sure you’re OK. And I think they have bravery awards for special boys,’ she soothed. ‘Mark, is the ambo team here yet?’

‘We certainly are,’ a deep voice informed her.

Matt. She didn’t even need to look to know it was him. And suddenly the tension in her shoulders began to ease. Everything was going to be fine: there was nobody she’d trust more for support. She grinned. ‘Hey. What kept you, slowcoach?’

‘We don’t have the same go-faster stripes as your lot,’ he teased back. ‘You OK, Kels?’

‘Sure. Four more to go and we’re out of here. Can you look at this young man’s leg for me? And I think he might need a bravery award as well.’

‘Sounds about right. Come on, mate, I’ll carry you over to the ambulance,’ Matt said, taking the child from her. ‘We’ll sort out that cut and get you a special award.’

When she and Jane had handed the last child through, Kelsey asked, ‘That’s definitely everyone?’

Jane nodded. ‘I think so.’

‘Good. Through you go.’ Kelsey helped her through the window into Mark’s arms. She’d pushed her BA set back through to Mark and was halfway through the gap in the window herself—protected by her gloves and fire gear—when one of the children called, ‘Where’s Mikey and Lucy?’

Ah, hell. She should’ve thought. In situations like these, the kids were usually better at knowing who was there and who wasn’t than the teachers—they remembered if their friend was in late because they’d been to the dentist, or had gone home early because they’d been sick. Registers were only accurate at the time they were taken—all sorts of things could change during the school day.

The class teacher did a head count and was clearly running through the register in her mind. ‘They’re not here.’

‘They were definitely in today?’ At the teacher’s nod, Kelsey asked, ‘Where are they likely to be?’

‘Heaven knows with Mikey—he’s never still for more than three seconds,’ the teacher said, sounding grim.

‘You’re sure he isn’t out there and hasn’t just slipped out of the line and gone onto the playground or something?’