Free Blue Fire and Ice by Alan Skinner Page A

Crimson was laying out the other things she would need: food, clothes and all the books she could find on fighting fires.
    ‘I’m sure I’ve forgotten something,’ Crimson said to herself. She smiled at Calamity. ‘Well, Calamity, what have I forgotten?’ Calamity cocked her head to the side and studied the pile in front of Crimson. It didn’t seem possible that Crimson could have forgotten anything. It seemed like every last thing in the firehouse lay in piles in front of her. But something was missing …
    Calamity jumped from the cart and scooted up the stairs. A few moments later, she scooted down again, carrying a red enamel bowl in her mouth. She ran to Crimson and dropped it gently in front of her.
    ‘Good girl,’ said Crimson, scratching Calamity behind the ears. Calamity gave a little bark and then jumped back on the cart to her seat, looking very pleased with herself.
    Calamity was the fire station puppy. She didn’t exactly belong to Crimson. She belonged to the fire station. It was her place in the world. Looking at her pointed snout, her bright eyes and perky ears, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was the sort of terrier for which they are famous in a place called Staffordshire. But, if you asked anyone what kind of dog Calamity was, they’d look at you strangely and answer, ‘Puppy, of course.’ Which was perfectly true. Calamity was a puppy and had always been a puppy. If you were to ask Calamity the same question, she would give exactly the same answer. It would sound like a little bark, but if you were a Muddle, you’d know what she was saying. All the animals understand the Muddles. All the Muddles, on the other hand, don’t exactly understand the animals. They just know what they’re saying.
    A large thud made both Crimson and Calamity look round sharply, just in time to see Grunge slide down the pole. He had his arms wrapped tight around the pole and was carrying a small case in one hand. As his feet touched the floor, he bent and picked up a rucksack at the foot of the pole.
    ‘I remembered to hold on this time,’ he grinned. He placed the rucksack near the other things on the floor.
    ‘No guitar?’ asked Crimson.
    ‘I didn’t think there’d be enough room. I brought this instead.’ He held up the case. ‘My flute.’ He nodded to the gear on the floor. ‘Well, shall we pack this on the cart?’
    Crimson nodded. ‘I think I’ve got everything. Calamity remembered her dinner bowl.’ Calamity gave a little bark. ‘I’ve put a special box on the cart for all our things.’ Just behind the tank, the cart had a large metal box for all the fire equipment. Next to it, Crimson had attached a slightly smaller metal box for their food and clothing. ‘Let’s get it packed.’
    Crimson and Grunge started putting everything on the floor into the boxes on the cart. Soon, everything was stowed away in its place. Grunge picked up his flute. ‘I’ll keep hold of this myself,’ he said.
    ‘That’s a good idea. And Calamity can look after her bowl.’ Crimson hesitated a minute, gave Grunge an embarrassed smile and said softly, ‘It was very good of you to volunteer, Grunge.’ She hesitated again and blushed. ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me.’
    Grunge gave Crimson an awkward grin. His blush matched Crimson’s. ‘I’m glad too, Crimson.’ They glanced shyly at each other. Neither spoke. Calamity cocked her head again and barked.
    ‘I think she’s impatient to get going,’ said Grunge, smiling. ‘Where are the Beadles?’
    ‘They’re picking up Reach. There’s not enough room on the cart for the three’ – Calamity gave another little bark – ‘four of us, so she’ll go in the Beadles’ bus.’
    After the vote, Grunge had immediately volunteered to go with Crimson, which made Crimson feel very happy. As soon as Grunge had volunteered, Sky had also volunteered, which didn’t make Crimson feel so happy. Crimson was annoyed with herself for feeling that way