by Liz Eeles
‘Is Alice up there?’
He nods, his face frozen in fear.
‘Come on then. We’ve got to get her out.’
I wade to the stairs and run up to the landing, my shoes squelching water with every step. All I can think, as I rush towards Alice’s bedroom, is that we’re well and truly stuffed because I don’t know how to swim and Alice is too old to breaststroke through a flood.
If I’d spent summer holidays in Salt Bay when I was growing up, I’d have learned to swim in the sea. Alice would have taught me, or Sheila. Either way, my chances of surviving the next few minutes would be higher, especially as Toby’s nowhere to be seen when I look behind me.
Alice is sitting up in bed, sleepy and confused, when I barge into her room. A fluffy pink blanket is covering her legs and her hair has flattened where she’s been lying.
‘Annabella, is that you?’ Her eyes light up at the sight of me but then she looks alarmed. ‘Why are you here and what’s that noise?’
‘No time to talk, Alice,’ I snap, striding towards her. ‘The river is flooding into the house and we need to get you out.’
‘Righty-o.’ You can tell Alice has lived through a war. With no argument, she swings her legs off the bed, grabs the photo of her husband from the bedside table, and pushes her feet into her slippers.
‘Let’s go. Where’s Toby?’
‘I’m not sure but he’s fine.’ Putting my arm round Alice’s waist, I drag her to her feet and she totters against me. She’s wobbly at the best of times and still disorientated after waking to find me in her room.
‘Put your arm round my shoulder and let me do most of the work,’ I instruct her, half-carrying her to the top of the stairs.
Alice stiffens when she sees the dirty water swirling over the bottom stairs and murmurs, close to my ear, ‘Oh my! I’m not sure I can do this, dear.’
‘Of course you can. We can do this together.’
We stumble down the first couple of stairs and it becomes apparent that Alice’s mobility has worsened since I was last here. Her legs are hardly moving and she keeps yelping in pain.
On the third stair down from the landing, she stands up straighter and pushes herself away from me.
‘Come on Alice, we can do this.’
Alice’s lined face softens into a sad smile. ‘I don’t think so, and I’m just holding you up.’
A surge of water rushes along the hallway and the old house shifts and groans at the indignity.
‘I’m an old woman, not a young thing like you, and I’d rather go down with this marvellous house.’ She sinks onto the stair, clasping her precious photo to her chest.
Fantastic! We need to get down the stairs pronto while there’s still time to wade our way out, and Alice chooses this moment to sacrifice herself. My horror film has turned into a weepie, with the elderly heroine opting to die alone and save her young companion from a watery grave. God, I hate manipulative weepy movies. Give me Jason Bourne and a car chase any day.
‘No way, Alice.’ I stoop down to her level, nose to nose. ‘We Trebarwiths have to stick together, so get your arse in gear and your feckin’ legs down those stairs.’
Alice opens and closes her mouth a couple of times like a fish. But she stays silent and doesn’t resist when I pull her to her feet and start frogmarching her down into the flood.
When we reach the water, I have to force myself to keep going. Hell’s bells, it hasn’t got any warmer. The coldness hits Alice like a blow and she flinches against me when we reach the bottom of the stairs and start pushing against the rising tide surging into the house.
‘Toby!’ I yell, using my free arm to carve a way through the water and its surface scum of plants ripped from the valley. My foot catches on something hidden beneath the surface and I stumble. My shoulders sink under the water but I manage to right myself, still holding on to Alice who’s clinging round my neck. The water has risen past my waist, Alice’s face is a grim mask of fear, and I still can’t bloody well swim.
I push on past the sitting room, steadfastly staring ahead because seeing Alice’s elegant room sunken and wrecked would be too much to bear. We’re hardly making any progress because it’s hard moving against the force of the water and my legs are so numb I can’t tell if my feet are on solid ground. This is how Samuel must have felt, just before he succumbed to the waves. Soaked, exhausted, and thoroughly peed off that his time was up.
But I can’t die yet. Not when there’s so much left on my bucket list. I haven’t mastered cooking without setting off the smoke alarm yet, or taking regular exercise without hating it. And I want to become magnificently serene, and to French-kiss Richard Armitage while he’s wearing his Guy of Gisbourne black leather, obviously. Plus there’s all the finding out about where I come from and maybe, just maybe, settling down one day with – well, with someone. Having a home and a family isn’t so bad. In fact, right now I think I’d quite like it. But what a shame if that all counts for nothing because Trebarwiths are cursed to drown.
Suddenly, there’s lots of shouting and splashing and two men push their way through the front door.
‘Toby, thank God.’
But it’s not Toby. Charlie and Josh are moving through the flood, twisting from side to side and using the force of the water to propel themselves forwards. Charlie reaches us first and grabs hold of Alice, who clings on to me, refusing to let go.
‘It’s all right,’ shouts Charlie, ‘I’ve got you, Mrs Gowan.’
‘What about Annabella?’ she yells, digging her nails into my neck. ‘I’m not leaving her behind.’ Which is really kind, even though she’s a dead weight and dragging me under the water.
‘No one’s getting left behind. Josh will look after Annie,’ promises Charlie, unpeeling Alice, who immediately flings her arms round his shoulders. The heavy photo frame she’s holding clonks into the back of his head and he winces.
‘My poor house,’ cries Alice with a final look round the ruined hallway before Charlie starts wading with her in his arms towards the garden. Josh steps to one side to let him go past, before pushing on through the flood towards me.
I’ve lost feeling everywhere and my life should be flashing in front of my eyes right now. But all I can think as Josh gets closer is that he looks totally hot. Ridiculous I know, but his soaking-wet cotton jacket is clinging to the muscles in his chest and upper arms, and damp strands of dark hair are plastered to his forehead in a very appealing way. There’s something rather Richard about him. Plus he’s being terribly heroic.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks when he reaches me. The mini tidal wave that’s built up ahead of him splashes over my shoulders and across my chin.
‘I can’t swim,’ I reply, teeth chattering as Alice’s hat bounces off the wall and starts sailing up the stairs. I’ve always liked that hat. It’s the one that makes her look like Miss Marple.
‘That doesn’t surprise me, bloody townies,’ mutters Josh but he doesn’t say it unkindly. Putting his hands round my waist, he pulls me close into his body and his peppermint-breath warms my frozen face. ‘Come on then, Annabella Sunshine Trebarwith, let’s get you out of this hellhole.’
‘Sunshine?’ I squeak.
‘Never tell Kayla anything you want to keep a secret.’ He grins down at me and I forget for a moment that hypothermia is setting in and I may well end up with organ failure.
Together we start pushing our way through the flood. The water seems to have stopped rising but it’s an obstacle course underfoot, with plants wrapping themselves round my legs and all sorts of detritus hidden beneath the surface. When I stumble for the second time, Josh sweeps me into his arms without a word and keeps moving forwards.
I have to admit that I like being carried by Josh. Being rescued like a damsel in distress smacks against any remaining feminist leanings. But sod it. I am in distress and it’s lovely to be rescued for once. Being independent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be when a gigantic feckin’ flood is trying to
finish you off.
At last we’re out of the house and into the garden, only the garden no longer exists. In its place is a vast lake with islands of plants poking above the water line. A fire engine and two ambulances are parked close to the water’s edge, their blue lights reflecting and scattering in the floodwater lake.
‘Oh my God, what about Toby?’ I twist in Josh’s arms as he wades towards dry land. Ahead of us, Alice and Charlie are being led towards an ambulance.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ says Josh gruffly, carefully setting me down on my feet. ‘He’s the one who told us you and Alice were inside. He’s over there.’ He tilts his head at a bedraggled Toby, who’s sitting on the steps of the fire engine with a thick blanket round his shoulders. ‘Did he get wet trying to rescue you and Alice?’
‘No, he was too busy rescuing that.’ I nod towards the large, gilt-framed painting next to him. It looks wildly out of place, propped up against the fire engine’s wheel arch. But the canvas looks dry from here.
‘You’re kidding me,’ snorts Josh, his dark eyes flashing.
‘Afraid not.’
Without another word, Josh spins round and marches towards Toby. Ooh, this cannot end well. I scurry after him as best I can, seeing as I’ve still got almost no feeling in my legs.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’
Toby spots Josh bearing down on him and cowers against the fire engine.
‘Annie and Alice could have drowned while you were rescuing a painting. What is wrong with you, you moron?’
Toby springs to his feet so he and Josh are eyeball to eyeball, and the blanket falls to the floor.
‘What’s so important about the painting anyway?’ demands Josh, staring at the woman in the picture who stares right back. He looks quickly at me and then back at the painting. He can see the resemblance too.
I push my way between Josh and Toby to avoid any fighting, though right now I feel like giving my lying cousin a swift kick in the privates. ‘It’s a Van Teel,’ I say calmly.
Toby shrugs and doesn’t deny it. But he refuses to look me in the eye and, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that he was feeling a tad guilty.
‘A Van what?’ Josh’s sopping jacket and jeans are dripping over Toby’s feet.
‘A Van Teel. Toby has discovered that Ludo Van Teel is the artist and this could be a very valuable painting, though I’m not sure he was going to tell Alice that.’
‘I bet be wasn’t,’ hisses Josh through gritted teeth. ‘Always thinking only of yourself, hey, Toby?’
‘You have no idea how much this painting is worth,’ retorts Toby, moving in front of the canvas to protect it. ‘What do you earn, twenty-five grand a year? You’d have done exactly the same as me if you’d known. And Annie and Alice got out fine anyway.’
‘Only just. That’s the difference between you and me. Whatever this painting is worth, I’d put people above money every time.’
‘Yeah, maybe if it’s Annie.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
The two of them start doing that weird squaring up dance that men do; chests out, chins jutting, fists clenched. Good grief, I think they are going to fight. I’m contemplating throwing myself back into Josh’s arms to stop them when a paramedic hurries up to us.
‘Come on you two and have a quick check up in the ambulance to see if you’ve got hypothermia.’ She smiles broadly as if the prospect of hypothermia is rather pleasant. ‘Did either of you swallow any water? Heaven knows what’s in it. Let’s find you some blankets to start with. Follow me.’ She links her arm through mine and leads us away from Toby.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I say as Josh and I sit next to one another in the back of the ambulance, wrapped in foil blankets like oven-ready turkeys. We’ve been prodded and poked by the ambulance crew who have declared that we’ll survive. Alice, Charlie and Toby are OK too, though Alice has been taken to hospital as a precaution, and I’ve thanked Josh so many times that he’s begged me to stop.
‘I know the painting could be worth three-quarters of a million but—’
‘How much?’ asks Josh, still shivering. We’ve both taken off almost all our clothes and are slowly warming up thanks to lots of blankets and paramedic Andrea whacking the heating in the ambulance up to high.
‘One Ludo Van Teel painting sold recently for £755,000.’
‘Good grief, that’s crazy money.’ His foil blanket crackles when he shakes his head.
‘Are you reconsidering your actions in rescuing me and Alice rather than fine art?’ I ask, aware that beneath my blankets I’m dressed in only my bra and pants. And they don’t match.
‘I’d have missed you and your annoying ways if you’d drowned. Though I’m not sure why you’re back in Salt Bay when you hate it so much.’
‘I don’t hate it. In fact I quite missed it – the windswept cliffs, the never-ending rain, the difficult people.’
Josh grins and my legs shake even more.
‘I’m back because I found out that the painting is valuable and I wanted to tell Alice.’
‘She doesn’t know?’ When I shake my head, Josh gives a hollow laugh.
‘And I bet Toby wasn’t going to tell her either. He’s even more of a self-centred shit than I thought.’
‘Hhhmmm.’ Before I can change my mind, I say in a rush, ‘He told me that you got a girl pregnant and then abandoned her and the baby, and when he challenged you about it, that’s when you hit him.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Josh twists round in his seat, revealing the thighs of a rugby player. ‘Did you believe him?’
‘No, not really – I wasn’t sure,’ I say miserably, any relief at not drowning now receding swiftly. ‘But only at first when I thought you were rude and grumpy, but not now…’ I tail off.
Josh leans forward, speaking so quietly I can hardly hear him. ‘Do you want to know the real story? Yes, I hit Toby because a pregnant girl was abandoned. But he was the one doing the abandoning, not me.’
‘So who was the – oh.’ Suddenly it all makes perfect, horrible sense. ‘Your niece Freya is Toby’s daughter. She’s a Trebarwith.’
‘Yes, poor little mite.’ Josh glances round to make sure that Andrea can’t hear. ‘Lucy was only seventeen and swept off her feet by Toby in his flash car. And when he wanted to keep their relationship a secret it only made the whole thing more romantic in Lucy’s eyes. But when she got pregnant, he couldn’t escape fast enough and the Trebarwiths closed ranks.’
‘Who knows that Toby is Freya’s dad?’
‘Hardly anyone. I guessed because I’d seen her and Toby together but she made me promise never to let on. So I haven’t until now. But I confronted Toby and he laughed and said it wasn’t his problem and he wasn’t going to be tied to this deadbeat place by some stupid kid.’ The muscles in Josh’s jaw tighten.
‘And that’s when you hit him?’
Josh nods miserably. ‘I don’t make a habit of hitting people, but he pushed me too far.’
‘Have you ever chased him for maintenance?’
‘Nope. Lucy doesn’t want anything more to do with Toby or the Trebarwiths and I have to stick with what she wants. She’s been through enough already and couldn’t face a paternity fight and everyone knowing her business.’
Which means that while Toby has escaped scot-free, Lucy is working all hours to support her child and Josh is working hard to help her. It all seems very unfair.
‘Does your mum know?’
Josh nods.
‘And yet she still lets Serena work for Alice.’
‘My mum is more forgiving than me and says Alice probably doesn’t know anything about it. Toby’s snooty parents were horrified that their son’s glittering career might be derailed by a brief fling with a lowly Pawley so Mum reckons they kept it to themselves. Freya, one of the sweetest little girls on the planet, was just a dirty secret as far as they were concerned.’
‘Alice doesn’t know.’ I’m sure of it. Even tho
ugh I met my great-aunt for the first time just a few short weeks ago, it’s plain to see that she’s a woman of principle who would, at the very least, apologise for Toby’s behaviour. I feel as though I’m speaking on her behalf when I say, ‘I’m terribly sorry about the trouble you’ve had with the Trebarwith family.’
‘With your family, you mean. And you believed what Toby told you about me.’
‘No I didn’t, not really. Toby’s a liar.’
‘Yes he is and I’ve always known it. But I can’t believe you thought even for a moment that I was capable of behaving like him. What a very low opinion you’ve had of me from the start.’ And he sounds so terribly disappointed, I start to wish I had drowned.
‘How are you two feeling now?’ says Andrea cheerfully, flinging open the back door of the ambulance and climbing inside. ‘Phew, it’s toasty in here.’ She mimes wiping sweat from her forehead, totally oblivious to the frosty atmosphere. ‘Here you go.’ She hands a Sainsbury’s carrier bag to me and one to Josh. ‘Your neighbours have rallied round and found some clothes for you. They’re not the height of fashion, but will do until you get home. Oh, Annie.’ She grins. ‘Some big bloke called Roger said you can stay at his place tonight. It’s nice to be in demand.’
‘Thank you for all your help. It’s much appreciated.’ Josh stands up, pulls his blankets tight and squeezes past Andrea to get out of the ambulance. ‘I’ll head off now to find Charlie and get dressed and sort out a lift home.’
‘You’re not both staying at Roger’s place then, love? That’s a shame,’ says Andrea chirpily, giving me a wink as Josh disappears into the distance.
I smile faintly and slip an orange polyester blouse over my head. Being cheerful must help paramedics to cope with an incredibly difficult job but I wish Andrea would rein it in a bit. It’s not that I’m not grateful to be safe and warming up on dry land, but it’s been a rubbish day: almost drowned in a flood, tick; confirmed that my cousin is a nasty piece of work, tick; disappointed the man that I rather inconveniently think I may be falling in love with, tick, tick, tick.
