Feisty Firefighters Bundle

Laura walked swiftly, pushing herself despite the physical weariness that made her bones feel like lead. Her spiritual weariness was far more of a concern. This was never going to work. OK, she’d established a friendship with Jason. She’d seen evidence that he could find her attractive. She might even succeed in winning herself a place in his life, but where would that leave her? Precisely where she would have ended up with John, that’s where. Making all the effort and putting up with all the crap because she wanted the relationship to work so much more than he did.

Jason might only be having a beer and watching television because he felt like it now, but it would only be a matter of time before he was off to the pub with his mates or having an affair, like John, because that took his fancy, and if Laura wanted to keep him around she’d just have to deal with it.

Escaping the empty shell that her relationship with John had become had led to a vow that she would never again become involved with anyone who didn’t love her as much as she loved them. Yet here she was, trying to set herself up with an even more heartbreaking arrangement. Jason wouldn’t just expect his dinner on the table or a bit of company on the odd night he chose to stay at home. He’d want his child raised as well. A child who was rapidly claiming a large portion of the love Laura was only too ready to bestow.

Why can’t love be more equally distributed? Laura directed the silent question to the postbox at the end of Crighton Terrace as she finally neared the end of her long walk. She picked up her pace a little until she got past the empty and semi-derelict two-storied house on the corner. All that Laura wanted was to receive the same kind of love she was so capable of giving. Was that too much to ask?

Too much to ask of Jason Halliday, she decided bitterly as she opened the back door of his house. His idea of love was probably giving a girl a good time in bed. He didn’t have a committed bone in his body when it came to women, and he probably didn’t need to. With his looks and personality he wouldn’t face any problem finding someone prepared to do the running to make things work when he finally decided to settle down.

But it wouldn’t be her. No way. She wouldn’t marry Jason if he-

Her passage into the living room was abruptly halted by what she saw in front of her. Jason lay flat on his back on the couch. One arm and one leg were draped over the side and an almost empty baby’s bottle rested on the floor close to the dangling hand. He was deeply asleep, his lips slightly parted, his hair tousled and his features softened enough to make him look years younger. Vulnerable, almost.

Megan lay sprawled on top of her father, stomach to stomach, and she was also soundly asleep. There was no danger of her rolling off, though. Jason’s arm was almost completely encircling the infant and he had his thumb safely anchored in a belt loop of his jeans.

Laura sighed softly, overwhelmed by the wave of pure love the scene evoked in her. Any good intentions she had to extricate herself from giving more than she could ever hope to receive flew out the window. There was no way she could walk away from either of them. Not when she felt like this. Whatever happened, she was going to see this through as far as it went.

Quietly, Laura moved further into the room, planning to bypass the couch and head for the bathroom for a much-needed shower. But Jason’s eyelids flickered open.

‘Hey…you came back!’

‘Yeah.’ Laura spoke as softly as he had. ‘I’m a masochist.’

‘Guess what?’

‘What?’

‘Megan smiled at me.’

‘Really?’ Laura saw the delight in Jason’s sleepy grin and that wash of emotion she had experienced on entering the room returned with renewed strength. ‘That’s so cool! I wish I’d seen it.’

‘You should have been here,’ Jason admonished. Then he seemed to wake up enough to remember why she hadn’t been there, and his expression held a mixture of apology and relief. ‘At least you’re back now.’

‘Mmm.’ Laura didn’t want to spoil the moment by discussing her walkout. ‘I need a shower. Are you OK with Megan for a bit longer?’

‘Take as long as you like.’ Jason closed his eyes and smiled. ‘Enjoy,’ he added rather smugly.

Laura had taken the tone to be self-congratulatory because he was minding the baby, but she changed her mind as she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

The bath was full, almost to the brim, and sparse blobs of bubbles like small clouds floated amongst faint tendrils of steam. It smelt vaguely like some sort of pudding her mother used to make and her awareness of the scent was heightened by the dim, flickering light emanating from the depths of a hollow, orange candle. Beside the candle was something that was her final undoing. A stemmed wineglass, filled with what looked suspiciously like beer.

It was no reason to cry. This was a present-an opportunity to relax and indulge herself-and here she was, standing on the tiled floor with tears streaming down her face. Laura scrubbed the tears away with her hand and managed a wobbly smile as she pulled off her clothes. Jason had done this for her, and he must have used virtually the whole time she’d been out to do it because it looked like he’d cleaned the bathroom before creating her treat. He must have been thinking about her the whole time, possibly coping simultaneously with a grizzly baby, and he had harnessed clearly limited resources to produce something that was purely for her benefit.

John would never have done something like this for her, not in a million years. Jason cared. He really cared, and that was far more meaningful than any sexual awareness she might be able to stir in him. Laura climbed into the tub and lay back, resting her head on the rim and allowing a few more tears to wash away the despair she had carried with her on her solitary walk. She had been wrong. It could work out between her and Jason. And even if it didn’t, she would never forget this bath for as long as she lived.

The call to an unconscious woman on the next night duty became the first strong reminder when Laura and Tim were led by a panicked husband into the bathroom of the patient’s house.

‘It’s my wife, Irene,’ he was explaining as he rushed ahead of them down a narrow hallway. ‘She was just having a soak in the bath and then I heard this almighty crash and came in to find her lying on the floor with blood everywhere. I thought she was dead!’

Irene Spelling wasn’t dead but she wasn’t feeling at all well. She was also highly embarrassed by the ineffective covering a towel was affording.

‘Do you know what happened?’ Laura asked.

‘I came over all funny when I stood up. Next thing I know I’m lying on the floor and my head hurts.’

A superficial scalp wound caused by grazing her head on the corner of the vanity unit had produced copious amounts of blood, but the facecloth Irene was pressing to the area had it under control for the moment. Laura was more concerned by potential causes for the faint.

‘How are you feeling now, Irene?’

‘Like I’m going to be sick. And there’s a funny ringing noise in my ears.’

‘Let’s lie you down,’ Laura directed. ‘And lift your legs a bit.’ Irene’s husband assisted by sitting on the toilet seat and holding her feet on his lap. ‘Can you get a blood pressure, please, Tim?’

Tim was fitting an oxygen mask on Irene’s face. He reached for the blood-pressure cuff as Laura started peeling the backs off the electrodes needed to get more information about what was happening in Irene’s cardiovascular system.

The bath had been a hot one-Laura could feel the steamy heat surrounding them. Just as well it didn’t smell like a pudding, Laura thought fleetingly, or she might have trouble concentrating on what she was supposed to be doing.

The heat of the water and surrounding air could have caused a level of vasodilation enough to interfere with the normal mechanisms that adjusted blood pressure to posture. The reduction in blood supply to the heart had a knock-on effect of reducing supply to the brain, and was a common enough cause for fainting, but Laura needed to rule out any more serious cause such an underlying cardiac condition or reaction to medications.

‘Your ECG looks fine,’ she reassured Irene and her husband a minute later. ‘You don’t have any heart problems that you know of, do you?’

‘No.’

‘Anything else you’re being treated for?’

‘No. Well…’ Irene looked embarrassed again. ‘I’m taking some of that new stuff that’s supposed to help you