But at least now she didn’t have to worry about falling asleep.
After that little heart starter, she was wide awake.
Caleb didn’t have to work at giving Ava space. A call out to a fire in a massive pile of recycled building material and timber offcuts at a recycling facility took care of that. A worker who’d attempted to put out the fire with a garden variety fire extinguisher before it had engulfed the pile and sent him fleeing for his life claimed it had been sparked by an electrical fault on his tractor, and in no time at all the fire quickly took hold, spreading to a nearby stockpile of tyres before the first of the firefighters had arrived.
By the time Caleb’s crew had been called in a couple of hours later, the fire was already the size of a city office block, the flames shooting tens of metres into the sky.
It was the biggest industrial fire ever seen in the city, crews from all over the metropolitan area involved, and the only blessing was it was in an area fringed with open land so it couldn’t spread into the suburbs. For three days and nights more than one hundred fireys battled to contain the fire, the heat generated by the flames so intense it seemed to absorb the retardant and water poured onto it before they could act to cool the fire down, while the thick pillar of black smoke that snaked upwards into the sky prompted the health authorities to issue warnings to people in the surrounding suburbs with asthma and other chronic conditions to get the hell away or stay inside. Even despite their breathing equipment, more than a dozen firefighters had to be hospitalised for breathing difficulties.
Eventually the fire had burned down enough that big earthmovers could be brought in to shift the burning material into smaller piles that could be tackled separately, but it would be days before the fire was completely mopped up.
It was a weary and filthy crew that headed back to the station after being stood down the final day but Caleb was proud of each and every one of them and the way they’d performed. Mike came out to greet them. “I’ve been hearing stellar reports about you guys.”
“The crew did well, all of them,” Caleb said, “and this guy –” he patted Matt on the back – “did an awesome job. That was a tough gig for an experienced officer, let alone a rookie. Talk about a trial by fire.”
“Thanks,” the still teen-aged rookie said, and Caleb would swear he was blushing under the grime on his face.
“I look forward to hearing all about it. Now go get cleaned up, you lot. There’s pizza in the kitchen.”
“Do you mind if I don’t stay for pizza?” asked Matt. “Only my mum—” He stopped there, biting his lip, clearly thinking he’d said too much.
“Your mum will have been worried sick about you,” Mike said. “Go set her mind at rest that you’re okay.”
Right now Caleb wondered if he’d ever be able to smell anything but the stench of burning tyres again. Bone weary now the adrenaline rush of fighting the fire was past, he hit the showers, managed to inhale four pieces of pizza and hefty chunk of garlic bread, and was home within the hour.
The lawn under the tree out behind the carport – frangipani, she’d called it – was white with scattered petals of fallen flowers, and he thought of Ava then, as he climbed from his car. He rubbed his aching head. Well, she should be happy. She sure couldn’t accuse him of overstepping any boundaries lately.
He was zoning out in front of the telly when the text came. He picked up his phone, and blinked when he saw the message was from Ava.
Were you at that fire?
Yes.
Are you okay?
I’m fine.
Two minutes later came the response.
That’s good.
Are you busy?
Dead on my feet.
Of course.
Sleep well.
He stared at the messages until his screen went blank and then he let his hand and the phone flop onto his chest.
Interesting.
Ava circled slowly around her studio, a mug of ginger tea cradled in her hands. She knew not to feel disappointed, but it was impossible not to feel relieved. She’d seen the thick, black column of smoke rising for days from the industrial area near the swampy saltbush land of the port, and she’d wondered whether he’d been caught up fighting it.
But he was okay and knowing that was enough. Sure, it would have been nice to share this moment with someone, especially someone who’d seen this collection develop and knew how much work had gone into it. Especially someone who’d been part of its inspiration. But after the way they’d parted the other night, maybe this was better. She didn’t want Caleb getting the wrong idea.
All around her, on the walls of the studio on the floor and sofa were displayed the thirty artworks she’d be exhibiting – everything else, the also rans, the unfinished works in progress and the picture she’d done in a frenzy of rage and turmoil on the night she’d learned her parents had died, put to one side. It was the first time she’d arranged the entire collection together. The first time she’d been able to assess if it worked as a collection or needed something added or subtracted or tweaked. But all around her was colour and texture, the lushness
