Chapter Text
Hans stared down at the frying pan and snorted. Three double yolks.
“I hope that is not an omen.” A voice muttered over his shoulder. Adder leaned around and frowned down at the pan before looking up at Hans with a shake of his head. “Bad shift.”
“Well done Adder you idiot.”
“Nice one, mate.”
“Just what I needed.”
A chorus from the mess responded.
“It's full moon.” Adder waved. His polish accent well and truly softened after years of working here. But when he wanted to mess with everyone he laid it on thick.
“I swear to fucking God if you so much as think about the 'Q' word I'll strap you to the ladder.” Kat, the other crew commander, threatened from the far side of the table. But even Adder wouldn't go that far. He smiled around his piece of toast at her, a silent ask for forgiveness.
“Good morning Green Watch” The watch commander announced as he came into the mess. A tall, wiry man, with red hair and a wide shit-eating grin. The station had christened him Cat Litter, due to his dry sense of humour and ability to suck the fun out of anything. “Forgot something on roll call this morning. There's a new body joining crew 2.”
That was Hans' crew so his head snapped up from his eggs. “Finally!” He then flopped his head back and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the stained popcorn ceiling. “Wait.” He had a moment of panic. “A newbie?”
“Nope. A transfer from-” Litter checked his paper. “Dorset & Somerset.”
The table erupted into oo-ars, and I haven't had cider in ages.
Hans was relieved. No training, and now he wouldn't have the piss ripped out of him for his 'posh twat' accent. The children had another victim.
“He'll be with us on the next rotation. And it looks like I need to get another Dignity and Respect Training scheduled before then.” The oo-ars turned into groans. Green Watch wasn't a bad bunch. And if you told them to shut up or drop something they usually did. But an outsider looking in to see a unit calling their commanding officer Cat Litter to his face might not reflect well on the London Fire Brigade. So that was another HR box to tick.
“Let's have a good shift.” Litter concluded. “Shut up Adder.” He smacked the broad blonde polish man on the back of the head before he could add a comment.
“You okay?” Kat asked later that day. She leant on the side of the fire tender with her arms crossed over her red t-shirt.
“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Hans didn't look up, and busied himself with straps and clasps.
“The new guy?”
“What about him?”
“Now I'm certain you're not okay about it.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Replacing Judy. You okay with that?”
“Kat, I don't have to be okay with it. It just is, and it is happening.” He looked up at her now, confirming she was grinning.
“You and Judy were-”
“-We were not. Never were. It was this strange obsession you all had. Some obsession you all had over fraternisation in the ranks. A sordid tale. A forbidden-”
“Right, I get it.” She paused to let a grin slide over her face again. “But there was totally-”
“-Katherine there was not. I thought I was over having to defend myself.” Hans hissed. Though it looked like it was just the two of them between the engines, there was no way of knowing if anyone else was around. “I'm fucking sick of this.”
Kat blinked and straightened.
“The rumour mill nearly ruined my career, Kat. Judy transferring out was one of the best things to happen. Will it be weird seeing a bloke sat in her spot? Yeah, it will. Has the guv'nor got a bee in his bonnet about it? Yeah. I will strangle the next person who asks me about it.”
“Who has already?”
“Fucking Adder, who else.”
“He gets his jollies from being a pest.”
“There's a time and a place.” Hans hip-checked the equipment drawer back into storage. And pulled down the metal shutter on the side of the fire tender. “Over a pint when I'm pissed. Not here.”
“Hey Jeeves, I was looking for you.” Lardy called as he came around the back of the tender, but was cut off as the alarm buzzer sounded.
“Saved by the bell.” Hans called after him as they spun on their heels. “You get to die another day.”
Hans spent most of his free time in a pub, or bar. Sometimes a coffee shop if he was off shift during the day. And when he did it he was often alone. He also never really thought about people or things unless they were right there in front of him. Which was why Judy sat so heavily in his mind now.
The last of his four shifts ended that morning, and he sat in a brilliant cafe which served tea in mugs. He had given up trying to sleep to get himself back on to normal hours. And there was Judy flitting about his mind non-stop. Hans needed to shove her back in her box.
“Captain Capon.” Came a very proper voice on the other end of the phone.
“Hey, it’s me. And don’t pretend your phone didn’t light up with World’s Best Nephew when it started ringing.”
“Hans! It’s good to hear from you. Give me a moment as it’s office hours.” Hans heard the phone hit the desk, heavy steps, and the closing of a door. “Back, what can I do for you?”
“They’ve got the replacement for Judy. He starts on Sunday.”
“Oh. Now that’s a thing.” His uncle conceded.
“Everything that happened afterwards was good. Don’t get me wrong. And everything between me and Judy was cordial at the end. But we just were not open to telling other people.”
“I know, I know.” There was a squeak of a chair and two thuds. Hans could picture his uncle leaning back in his off-white, blue carpet tiled office. A scene Hans remembered from his own past. “It doesn’t mean that having it brought up again, even indirectly, won’t be difficult.”
“It has already started.” Hans sighed. “I wish I could put up a poster detailing everything. So people could understand.”
“Has Ethan said anything to you?”
“You mean Station Commander Hart.” Hans quipped back. His uncle and Hart were friends. But never mind the 3 years in the brigade, formality had been beaten into him for the 7 years in service to Her Majesty. “No. He hasn’t. There really isn’t anything to say. We all got our wrists slapped and we are moving on.”
“When are you coming home for a visit?” Straight to the point.
“When I can. I just don’t have anything planned, or if I am honest, no desire to come back yet.”
“We don’t live on base.”
“I know, I know. But the guys are there, and they’d want to catch up.”
“We do miss you, you know?”
“You do?” Hans laughed. “I miss you guys too. Not having to pay for my own food and drink will be nice. I could get some laundry done. And actually have a bath rather than a shower in something the size of a kitchen cabinet.”
“That settles it then.”
“Okay, I’ll make a deal. I’ll come up, but after I’ve seen this new guy settled in. I just want to make sure the drama is done with first.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
“I’ll talk again soon. Give you all the gossip on the new crew member.”
“Do that. Talk soon. Take care Hans.”
Hans closed the call. Though he was never really close to his uncle, it was nice to share his problems with the man. And he was familiar with the whole situation.
**
Ignoring everything else hurrying about Paddington Station, Henry had to admit there were a lot of buses in London. But he took one look at the seething mass of everything and thought he would treat himself to a taxi instead. He'll let someone else deal with London today. He fell into a black cab, gave his grandma's address to the driver and zoned out.
He had lived here on and off so London wasn't this monster scaring the country bumpkin any more. And he had been back and forth these past few weeks just dropping things off. Like his bike. The thought of hauling all his worldly possessions strapped to his motorbike up the M4 was not appealing. So it was like he was drip feeding himself London; breaking himself in after a few years away. The press of people and things never sat well with him, but he felt London was louder now. He saw more of it or he paid attention to much more of it and it threatened to overwhelm him. And he would get no respite at his grandma's home. A big Victorian terrace house, a tiny garden, on a road with cars parked on both sides which could barely fit the cab when it arrived. Directly under the Heathrow flight path.
“Grandma, it's only me.” He called through the letterbox into the house. And then he watched the door at the far end of the hall open, and a tall thin lady slowly moving towards him. One lock, a second lock, and a bolt all released and the white door opened.
“Henry, this is late.” She said as she pulled him into her arms. It wasn't late, it was only eight pm, but to a 74 year old woman it was. “Have you eaten? I'll boil some potatoes.” She started her slow walk back down the hallway.
“I've eaten. Don't worry. What about you, have you eaten?” Henry dropped his duffle bag at the phone table. “And it's very cold in here.”
“I don't need to eat at my age.” She said as she walked back into her small sitting room.
“You do grandma. You're not immortal.” He hit a wall of heat as he crossed the threshold into the small back room and glared down at a two bar electric heater. “Grandma. We have all told you about this.”
“I'm cold.”
“Yes, we know that. But this is very dangerous. And you could burn your legs.” Henry reached behind a table that was pushed up against the wall under a window. He rested his hand on a new white radiator tucked there and frowned. “Why don't you have the heating on?”
“It's useless, it isn't warm.” She waved again.
“Grandma. It does work. Just because it doesn't burn your shins off, doesn't mean it's not warm.” He wandered into the very small kitchen and froze. “What the Hell!”
“Language!” She shouted from the other room. Henry leapt forward and turned all the gas rings off before opening the window and the back door fully.
“Well now it won't be warm any more if you do that!”
“What are you thinking!”
“I was cold!”
“I can't tell you how dangerous that is, Grandma. This isn't a thing that could just injure you. It will straight up kill you and probably take out this whole row of houses.” He called from inside the kitchen.
“It survived the blitz.”
“It'd not survive a gas explosion.” Henry muttered. This was going to be hard work he thought as he found the electric kettle his uncle had bought her. Still in the box. “Do you want tea?”
“How is Theresa?” Here we go.
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know. Did she die?” Henry decided to make two cups of tea.
“No Grandma, she did not die. But I haven't talked to her in a while.”
“Why not?” Wasn't that a question and a half.
“A lot happened.” Thankfully there were no further questions and Henry watched the kettle boil in silence.
His Grandma sat in her chair in the corner of the small sitting room. His grandfather's chair in the opposite corner was unused for years. And in line with an unspoken agreement in the family Henry did not sit in it. Instead choosing a wooden chair tucked up against the small dining table.
“What happened to Theresa, Henry?” His Grandma looked over at him.
“We didn't agree on a few things.” He said into his tea.
“You are stubborn.” She chuckled. “Henry, dear, if it was real you would have made it work.” Henry's uncle had said Grandma was still sharp as a knife. Not all the time, but she had these moments of whip-smart clarity that caught you off guard.
“Still want me to marry someone with land?” He smiled at her.
“Not much of that in London.” She sighed. “Maybe someone will sell you Wandsworth Common.”
Henry was due to start his first shift at his new station on Sunday. Which meant he needed to introduce himself to God in a new church quietly, and not at a service. He wasn’t pious in the extreme. He was brought up Catholic, went to Catholic school, and enjoyed the community it gave him. And he hoped there would be some of that here, at least.
The large red brick St. Vincent de Paul’s was imposing. And absolutely nothing like the dainty stone church back home. Where the graveyard was more of a garden, and large ancient yew trees gave you shade in the summer. St. Vincent’s opened straight on to the road with no more than a red sign telling you the times for the various observances. It was open though, the large door slightly ajar. He would sit in silence.
There was a sound as if someone was pottering around behind the altar. Henry hoped the squeak of the internal fire door alerted them to a visitor so they wouldn’t be shocked. He found a pew about half way down, slid in and sat.
His mind rattled with what he needed to buy for dinner, did he need to change his bank branch, the specific route through the city he would take to get all the way over to Newham, and was he even capable of doing this job?
“Well, good morning to you.” A voice came from the altar. Henry focused his eyes back into the now and smiled warmly at the priest.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were open.”
“We are, we are.” He smiled as he walked down the nave. “May I join you?”
“Of course!” The priest stepped into the pew and slid down the polished wood to sit beside Henry.
“I’m Father Godwin.” He extended a hand, which Henry took. “As I haven’t seen you before I am assuming you are new to the area.”
“I am new, but also not. My grandma lives just off the Northcote Road. I am living with her as I start a new job here.”
“Now I can tell by your accent you are not a native Londoner.” Father Godwin smiled. “Somerset? Dorset? Devon? Or even Wiltshire?”
“Somerset.”
“What on earth brought you from pastoral bliss to this concrete and brick existence.” He raised his hands up, and looked up at the ceiling.
“I’m a fire fighter. And this is where you come if you want a full time career.” Henry shrugged.
“That is very much a baptism of fire my son.” Henry snorted a laugh.
“Yeah, no chasing swans out of gardens here I’m guessing.” Henry looked over to Father Godwin who was smiling back.
“We have three Sunday masses and weekdays at nine. Confessions are Saturday between 12 and 1. Unfortunately we do not have Saturday evening mass any more.”
“It has been a while since I’ve been to mass.”
“That doesn’t matter. He is everywhere. Do you observe, at least?”
“I try to be good. It’s hard these days. And I think now that I am in London it might get harder.”
“The world is very different now. What would have been vices two thousand years ago would be everyday life here. I mean, look at you. You’re wearing cotton and polyester.” Father Godwin feigned shock and disgust.
“Yes, and my uncle plants two different crops in the same field. It’s shocking. Confessions on Saturday you say?” Henry decided he liked this man. Father Godwin grinned back.
“Will I see you on Sunday?”
“I start my first shift then. In Newham.”
“I shall pray for you.”
“Thank you Father. That actually means a lot.” Henry shook his hand again, and Father Godwin left him to stare into the middle distance and plan his grocery list.