Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 3 (38 page)

‘What medical textbook did that come out off?’ she said, chuckling a little unevenly.

‘The Dr Tom Cornish book of medical symptoms,’ he said. ‘It’s never ever wrong.’

She put her head back on his chest, needing his warmth, his closeness.

‘Tom…I’m scared—so very scared.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ he said to her surprise. ‘A healthy dose of fear means you’re not going to be tempted to do anything stupid.’

‘I’ve got more than a healthy dose of fear at the moment, believe me,’ Eve said with feeling, ‘and yet you…Doesn’t anything scare you?’

‘Lots of things. Spiders the size of dinner plates, crocs, boa constrictors.’

She shuddered.

‘You must think I’m such a wimp,’ she mumbled, and to her surprise he tilted her chin so she had to face him.

‘I think you’re wonderful. I always have done.’

There was tenderness in his face. An unutterable tenderness that made her heart clutch, and desperately she tried to remember all the years they’d been apart, the times when she’d been so unhappy, the reasons why she’d hated him, but all she was aware of was that—stupidly—crazily—she wanted to stay in his arms for ever.

‘Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t
gone to the States?’ he said as though he’d read her mind, and she tried to avoid his gaze but couldn’t.

‘I think it’s too late for regrets, Tom,’ she said, feeling her throat tighten.

‘Is it?’ he said. ‘Eve—this flood—if anything should happen to me—’

‘Don’t say that,’ she ordered, quickly putting her fingers to his lips to silence him, feeling a chill wrap itself round her heart at his words. ‘We’re safe here. Nothing is going to happen to either of us.’

‘But suppose it did,’ he declared. ‘I just want you to know—’

Whatever he had been about to say was lost as their radio crackled into life, and a deep, male, Irish voice suddenly rang out.

‘Is that idle bastard, Tom Cornish, sitting on his backside somewhere nearby?’ the disembodied voice said, and Tom turned quickly towards the radio with a broad smile.

‘Hey, Mad Mitch,’ he said, releasing Eve to pick up the handset and press the respond button. ‘What the hell are you doing there?’

A booming laugh echoed down the radio.

‘Well, the Navy contacted Deltaron, said Penhally was in a bit of bother, and asked if we could help. The boys and I hummed and hawed because there was a football match on the television, but when they said our contact was someone called Tom Cornish, we knew there couldn’t be two lazy buggers by that name so here we are.’

‘Who in the world is that?’ Eve whispered, and Tom grinned.

‘Michael Finnegan, known to everyone at Deltaron as Mad Mitch because he’ll fly when no sane man would.’

Another guffaw came over the radio.

‘Nice to know I’m appreciated, Tom, but maybe you ought to get your lady friend to show you how to use the mute button in case I hear something I shouldn’t. I tell you, mate, they could
put you in a men-only changing room, and you’d still manage to find a woman.’

‘He’s just kidding,’ Tom said, colouring slightly as Eve’s eyebrows rose. ‘Where are you, Mitch?’

‘Coming into Penhally over the sea, and let me tell you it’s horrendous out here. Rain’s just running off my blades, and visibility’s virtually nil. All I’m picking up is what my strobes are hitting. I’ve been told to head for two streets called Bridge Street and Gull Close, but, if the floodwater’s as bad as we’ve been led to believe, you know what that could mean. OAO until we’re closer to you.’

‘What did he mean by, “you know what that could mean”?’ Eve asked as the radio went dead.

‘At the moment, the water’s flowing down Bridge Street and Gull Close, and out to sea,’ Tom replied. ‘What Mitch is worried about is if it encounters a blockage.’

‘Is that likely?’ Oliver asked as he joined them.

‘If buildings start to come down, then, yes, it is,’ Tom declared. ‘All we need is a large enough fall of masonry and the water will have to find some other way out.’

‘So, what you’re saying is, nowhere in Penhally is safe?’ Oliver exclaimed.

‘Harbour View should be OK as it’s high above the village, as should the two schools, and The Smugglers’,’ Tom replied, ‘but other than that…Yes, I guess that’s pretty much what I’m saying.’

‘But isn’t there something you can do if a building collapses?’ Oliver faltered. ‘Some way you can divert the water, make it flow elsewhere?’

‘In an open environment there are things I could try, but in the middle of a village…’ Tom shook his head. ‘All we can do is hope and pray.’

‘Is anyone there?’

The voice on the radio was faint, but unmistakably that of Kate Althorp, and quickly Eve lifted the handset.

‘Kate, I’m here,’ she said. ‘Where are you?’

‘Nick, are you sure this damn thing works?’ she heard the midwife demand. ‘All I’m getting is a lot of crackles.’

‘Kate, you need to press the red button,’ Eve said. ‘Once you press that, you’ll be able to hear me.’

‘Oh. Right. Eve, is that you?’ Kate said. ‘Thank God. I thought…Never mind what I thought. OK, I know this is probably a non-starter,’ the midwife continued, ‘but we really could do with some help here. Stephanie’s in labour, and it’s a breech. We’ve no electricity, scarcely any equipment except what’s in our medical bags, and we can’t leave because there’s about three feet of water downstairs.’

Eve glanced across at Tom, and he took the receiver from her, and sat down.

‘Kate, it’s Tom Cornish here. Where are you in Bridge Street?’

‘Number sixteen. Luckily, it’s a two-storey building, so we’re upstairs, but…’ They heard the midwife take a quick, and unsteady intake of breath. ‘The building is shaking rather ominously, and Stephanie really does need to get to hospital, and the faster the better.’

‘Can you hang a white pillowcase—something visible like that—out of the window of the room you’re in so the choppers know where you are?’ Tom asked.

‘We can do that,’ Kate replied. ‘But, Tom…’ The midwife took another uneven breath. ‘We really do need help.’

‘I know,’ he said softly, then flipped the off button on the handset.

‘Kate must be terrified,’ Eve said as she saw him change the frequency on the radio, and knew he was trying to contact his colleague, Mad Mitch. ‘Her husband—James—he drowned ten years ago, trying to rescue children who were cut off by the tide. Kate’s always been scared of water, and if anything should happen to her…Her son’s only nine, Tom.’

‘I
know
,’ Tom flared, then shook his head when Eve flinched. ‘Sorry—sorry. Mitch, are you there, and if you are, where are you?’

‘I’m over the harbour, Tom, and this is a bad one,’ the Irish pilot declared. ‘I’ve been talking to the coastguard pilot, and the Navy blokes, and we’re all agreed. We’re going to have to fly in singly, and do a snatch and grab. The access into Penhally over the harbour is too narrow, and if our blades collide…’

‘Mitch, we have a woman in labour in Bridge Street,’ Tom declared. ‘She has two medics with her, but they’ve no electricity, and she needs to be in hospital pronto.’

‘I hear you, Tom, but I can see people on roofs, people hanging out of windows. Men, women, children, and…Holy mackerel, part of a building’s just gone. It looks like a hotel, but…’ There was silence, then Mitch spoke again. ‘Bob says that according to his map it’s the Anchor Hotel, and the water’s now spreading into…’ There was another silence. ‘Fisherman’s Row. Bob says the water’s now in Fisherman’s Row.’

Eve heard Oliver’s sharp intake of breath, but Tom ignored him.

‘Mitch, can you see any people in danger of drowning?’ he asked with a calmness that Eve could only wonder at.

‘Hell, mate, I can see people everywhere in danger of drowning,’ the pilot replied, and Tom’s eyes met Eve’s, then Oliver’s.

‘OK, save any children you see first,’ he said.

‘But, Tom,’ Oliver protested. ‘Chloe—’

‘I repeat, Mitch,’ Tom declared. ‘Save any children you see first.’

Deliberately he cut the radio connection, and Oliver stared wordlessly at him for a second, then straightened up.

‘I…I have to go,’ he said with difficulty. ‘Chloe…she’s in Fisherman’s Row.’

‘You’re going nowhere,’ Tom declared, swinging round in his seat, as Oliver made for the office door. ‘Number one, you’ll
never get across the Lanson, and, number two, we need you here.’

‘Chloe needs me more,’ Oliver said tightly, and Tom shook his head, his face impassive.

‘No, she doesn’t,’ he said. ‘If she’s not in the house, she’s safe. If she
is
in the house, the only people who will be able to rescue her are the helicopter winch men.’

‘But you said they were to rescue children first. Chloe—’

‘You put me in charge,’ Tom declared, his voice level, flat, ‘and you said you would accept whatever decision I made. My decision is they lift any children they see first, and you are to stay here. It’s a question of priorities, Oliver.’

‘A lifeboat, then,’ Oliver said, dragging his fingers through his hair in desperation as, overhead, they all heard the drum of helicopter blades. ‘Can’t you at least ask them to launch the lifeboat?’

‘Oliver, the water’s running too fast for a lifeboat to make any kind of headway,’ Tom protested, ‘and I can’t—I won’t—order men to put their lives at risk for one woman.’

‘I notice you’re not out there endangering yourself with the men you profess to care so much about.’ Oliver flared. ‘You’re sitting in here, all nice and warm and comfortable.’

A flash of anger appeared on Tom’s face and when he got to his feet Eve instantly moved between the two men.

‘Oliver—Tom—please,’ she protested, but neither were listening to her.

‘If I were a pilot, I’d be up there, doing my damnedest to save people,’ Tom said with difficulty, ‘but I’m not a pilot. When the water ebbs I’ll be out there with my men, but until then I’m doing what you asked me to do—co-ordinating, and organising this operation.’

‘And that’s all this is to you, isn’t it, just another operation?’ Oliver said, fury and fear mixed on his face. ‘You don’t give a damn about Chloe. To you, she isn’t even a person, she’s just a statistic, a nameless, faceless nobody.’

‘Oliver…’ Tom’s mouth compressed for a second, and when he eventually spoke his voice was strained. ‘Believe me, this is as hard for me as it is for you, but I have to prioritise.’

‘And if Chloe dies?’ Oliver exclaimed, and Eve saw Tom’s eyes darken.

‘I’m sorry, Oliver.’

‘Sorry?’ Oliver echoed in anguish. ‘You’re
sorry
? How do you live with yourself, Cornish—how do you sleep nights?’

‘I live with myself because making hard decisions is what I’m paid for, and as for sleeping…’ Tom’s lips curved into a bitter parody of a smile. ‘I actually sleep very badly, if you want the God’s honest truth, but I’m still not ordering the lifeboat to put to sea, and I want you to go back into the hall and see if there are any people needing your medical services.’

For a moment Oliver looked as though he intended to argue, then his jaw set and he strode out of the small office, banging the door behind him, and Eve turned awkwardly to Tom.

‘Tom, what Oliver said…He didn’t mean it, not really.’

‘I know,’ he murmured, sitting down again, and turning his attention back to the radio. ‘But there honestly isn’t anything I can do but hope Chloe either isn’t in the house, or when the water started to come in she had the sense to head for the attic.’

He sounded drained. Completely, and utterly drained, and for a moment she hesitated then walked up behind him and put her arms round him.

‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it,’ she said, ‘that a little over an hour ago we were walking up the street, discussing where we would have lunch, and you said not the Anchor Hotel because you felt they always suspected you of stealing their cutlery?’

He gave a husky chuckle.

‘Yeah, well, this afternoon’s the day they stopped needing to worry about their cutlery.’

She gazed out of the office window, seeing nothing but darkness illuminated by the strobe lights of a hovering helicopter.

‘Is it always like this, Tom? The rescue missions you and your men go out on. Are they always like this?’

‘Pretty much,’ he replied and, as she held him tighter, she felt his head fall back against her chest.

‘How do you stand it?’ she said. ‘How can you bear it?’

‘Because I have to,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s my job, what I signed up for, what I agreed to do. I know Oliver thinks I’m a completely unfeeling bastard, but children always come first in a disaster, and to launch the lifeboat, risk the lives of eight—ten—men in conditions I know would be suicide…’

‘Tom…’

She didn’t get a chance to say any more. The office door opened and, when Chief Constable Lachlan D’Ancey appeared, she stepped away from Tom quickly.

‘I picked up the emergency message on my car radio,’ the policeman gasped, pulling off his cap and sending rain drops scattering everywhere, ‘so I knew it was going to be bad, but I never thought it would be as bad as this. I’ve got men out sandbagging Harbour Road, the council have brought in diggers, but nothing is stopping it from spreading.’

‘Have you closed the roads into Penhally?’ Tom asked. ‘The last thing we want is people returning from work, adding to the chaos.’

‘We’ve blockaded all the roads, and I can tell you it’s holy murder out there. The word’s already gone out that Penhally’s in a bad way, and husbands—wives—are trying to get back into the village to find their loved ones. Luckily, a lot of the stay-at-home mums, and the elderly, seem to have taken police advice and made their way towards either Smugglers’ or here, but we’ve no way of knowing just how many people are out there, trapped.’

‘Lauren’s just rung in,’ Hazel declared as she appeared behind Chief Constable D’Ancey. ‘She made it to Gow Court, and she’s now going to try to make her way to the school hall.’

‘Any word from Dragan?’ Eve asked, and the practice manager shook her head.

‘I’m guessing he’s still out of range, and it’s taking him a little while to get to The Smugglers’.’

But surely not this long, Eve thought, but she didn’t say it and neither, she noticed, did Tom.