Page 32 of Second Song

“Because according to the plans, the rest of the building should be well supported, but?—”

He interrupts with a key question. “Am I evacuating the students right now?” He squares his shoulders, and I appreciate that he’s ready to take action, depending on my answer.

“No. As it stands, the building is sound.”

“But if the project continued as planned?” He looks to Dom, who gives a one-word yet graphic answer.

“Boom.” He gestures upward. “The whole side of the building potentially gone.”

That word potentially could be a get-out for some property owners. I’ve seen developers take stupid chances based on probability, on flipping a coin with fate, and fuck anyone who got to pay the price for that coin toss years later.

Luke Lawson doesn’t want a get-out. He eyes a fire alarm button on the wall. It’s currently behind glass, but I’m pretty sure he’d smash it on my say-so. That’s a solid point in favour of taking this job, and not only because Rowan might get to work here one day and I don’t want to picture him as a very pretty pancake. I already know what it’s like to sift through rubble after being deaf to orders, then to retreat, leaving behind peacekeeping collateral damage.

Leaving behind a brother.

Knowingly let anyone else deal with that fallout?

No thanks.

That means I pull aside construction netting and point up. “Part of the problem is that the whole build is nonstandard. Those windows?” Heavy stone mullions frame old diamond-pane windows. “They have to weigh over a ton each. What’s in the classroom directly above us?”

“The science lab.” He lowers his voice. “Double boom?”

“Not on my watch. But it means this part of your project will take longer than you’ve planned for.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I like that instant reaction. Dom is more cautious. “How much longer?”

“Weeks. It would be quicker if I had my—” I snap my mouth closed on the word crew. I don’t have one. Wouldn’t risk one, even if I did. “One person working stone by stone is all I’d risk here. Chip away at it and re-dig the foundation as I go.”

“You’d rebuild too?”

Dom answers for me. “No. Liam’s the full package, but demolition is his main gig. Not many pros with his skill set would?—”

I wonder how he’ll finish, steeling myself for him to say survive for long if they work with him. He surprises me with a different, less guilt-inducing closer.

“—be interested in small, labour-intensive projects like this one.” He flashes a quick look my way. “You decided against York?”

If I hadn’t already on Rowan’s behalf, Luke Lawson’s reactions have convinced me that this project is worth taking. “Yeah. I’ve got several small jobs up-country that I’ve signed contracts for and can’t shift. One this week and a few others after that, but if you can be flexible, I’ll do as much as I can between them, starting next week.”

Luke scrubs at his jaw. “Okay. That could be much worse.” His huff sounds relieved when I nod. “Might push the rebuild into the half-term break though, Dom. Did you have holiday plans with Maisie?” He meets my eyes. “And can you work through it, if needed?”

He’s asking if I have a family, if someone will need me around to look after kids of my own. “I don’t have any ties.” I hook a thumb towards the car park. “Have van, will travel.” That reminds me. “I’ve drawn up a schedule. What equipment I’ll need and when. You’ll need to order more steel for a start. A lot more supports. Let me go grab my schedule.”

I leave Luke and Dom leaning over the plans again and head off, taking the path outside to the car park, and that’s where I hear it.

Not the boom of a school building collapsing behind me, nor a waking flashback of another pile of sickening rubble. I still have to grip a fence when a chime rings out, and I can’t blame tinnitus for it.

Rowan.

His laugh is exactly as wild as I remember. The only difference is that he doesn’t hug a lamb tight today. Right now, he clutches something I can’t see while sitting on the edge of a sandpit with his back to me. He also talks with another teacher instead of yelling No shit Sherlock at me or babbling about how he’d lost the second chance he wanted so badly.

Apparently, he didn’t lose it. He’s exactly where he wanted to be, and I only realise I’m grinning when the stretch of my smile pulls. I touch my cheek at that weird, rare feeling, then clutch the fence again because Rowan laughs one more time, only with a nervous edge that means I can’t move on. Not without finding out what’s got him in a spin this time.

Turns out it’s me.

“Thanks for these, Charles.” He gets to his feet only to promptly drop what looks like a scrapbook. He scoops it up only to drop two others, the muppet. He scrambles to get his shit together in a hurry. “I promise I’ll read them all by first thing Monday morning. And I’ll pay much more attention.”

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