We Are Family

by Emlyn Rees

  Even though Rachel had only had the vaguest glimpses of the mud-covered bedraggled crowd as she’d peered through the windscreen of the van, she’d seen enough to know that quite a few of them had been injured. She’d banged her fist on the window, yelling at them to stop and wait for her, but nobody had heard her. The roar of the wind had been deafening. In desperation, she’d clambered out of the driver’s door.

  There had only been once source of light, from one man holding a torch, but as Rachel had joined the group, struggling against the rain, the weak beam had flickered and died. She’d groped her way in the darkness, holding on to somebody’s wet coat, as the group hobbled together up Summerglade Hill, to higher ground.

  Suddenly, a fork of lightning had opened the sky and Rachel had had a glimpse of the terrible drama below as if through a crack in the black curtain of sky. It was a scene she had barely been able to comprehend. She’d seen an unthinkable torrent of water, rushing through the town.

  The survivors had only made it as far as the clearing halfway up the hill near the viewing gate, before the group had started to disperse. Someone had shouted above the howl of the wind and the roar of the water, and had managed to corral the survivors through the gate to the disused gypsy caravan where Rachel had once made love with Tony.

  They’d all waited in the darkness, huddled together as the rain poured through the roof of the dilapidated caravan, the sour smell of mud mixing with mould. No one knew what had happened. Only that they’d managed to escape the waters that had come. Rachel had found a candle in a box under one of the seats and someone had lit it. In the gloom, she’d been able to identify the wet faces of her companions: Mrs Tamar from the butcher’s; Janet from the ice-cream parlour and her two sisters; Mr Barry and old Mr Stebbing. Another woman, probably from the hotel, had nursed a baby, silently weeping while a small girl had whimpered by her side. Meanwhile, Mr John had shaken the torch so that it flickered intermittently and had volunteered to take the first watch outside, plaintively calling for survivors to come and join them.

  Nobody had asked Rachel how she’d come to be alone inside the van on Summerglade Hill. The collective numbness of pain and shock had subdued her companions into silence, as they’d all strained to listen against the buffeting of the wind for other survivors, or for signs of any sort of help. Rachel had hardly been able to sit upright, such was the pain in her chest. Unnoticed tears had coursed down her cheeks, as she’d pleaded with the vengeful God outside to let her wake up from this terrible nightmare.

  It must have been an hour later that the first ambulance had arrived from Barnstaple. Rachel had no idea who’d managed to raise the alarm, as according to Mr John all the telephones were down as well as the electricity. And then more ambulances had arrived from the army base. They’d declared that the roads were too bad to evacuate the group and had set up next to the gypsy caravan, constructing tarpaulin over the clearing to form a makeshift camp. A kind woman in a grey uniform had handed out hot tea and blankets.

  Now, from where Rachel sat, she could hear the occasional moans of the other survivors when there was a lull in the wind and the tarpaulin stopped flapping so loudly. Yet despite the flickering gas lamps the army had rigged up, it was still almost impossible to see much beyond her feet. The lightning had stopped now but the occasional sweep of a vehicle’s headlamps illuminated a hedge or a tree, reminding her that she was on Summerglade Hill, sitting by a road she knew like her own skin.

  Behind her, the army medic who had treated her, wrapping a bandage around her ribs and cleaning up her face, jumped down from the back of one of the ambulances and startled her. He’d just checked on Mr Barry, having sedated him and laid him on the bed in the back of the ambulance. Rachel knew that the others were concerned over Mr Barry being manhandled like that, but he’d been ranting so hard at the army staff that Rachel had seen they’d had no choice but to silence him.

  The rumours of the RAF’s cloud-seeding to make rain deliberately that she’d heard in the shop were obviously more widespread than she’d thought. And Mr Barry, who was missing a son and obviously thought the armed forces were to blame, had wasted no time in venting his fury.

  Rachel pitied the harassed medic. She wanted to do something – anything – to help, but she already knew what the answer would be. She’d been told that she had two broken ribs and must stay still. She also felt slightly woozy from where she’d hit her head when the car had crashed. She wondered whether she’d lose the baby now. Her stomach felt bruised and battered.

  But it didn’t seem to matter any more. All that mattered was that Tony made it through and came back to her . . . and, for that matter, Bill and her mother. Rumours had been reaching them of great waves of water . . . of collapsing buildings. But Rachel wouldn’t believe them. How could they be true when it was still too dark to see?

  But fear still gripped her. What if a wave of water hit their home? What if her mother hadn’t been able to get out? Rachel felt desperate, just thinking of her mother left frightened and all alone in her room, with only a candle, unable to get out. Rachel thought back to their argument the day before, how she’d hated her mother with all her heart. It seemed so long ago. But what if that was the last thing her mother remembered? What if Rachel never got the chance to tell her mother how much she loved her? What if she never got to understand that she loved both her and Tony?

  And Tony? What if the flood had taken him? What if he was down there injured, waiting for someone to rescue him? What if he was in pain? It would all be her fault.

  It was all supposed to have been so different. She should have been far away with him by now. And tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, they’d have arrived in Gretna Green to get married. Just the two of them, pledging themselves to one another for ever. And then nobody would ever have been able to split them up, or take her baby. Not even her mother.

  But now, as she thought about everyone she loved, she couldn’t imagine the danger they were all in. South Bridge couldn’t really have gone, could it? The water in the valley simply couldn’t have got that high, could it? It was impossible.

  This was Stepmouth. Disasters didn’t happen in Stepmouth. It wasn’t a place that anyone cared about. It wasn’t a place that could be devastated like this. This kind of thing happened abroad, to other people. Floods happened on the Pathé newsreels, not here in her backyard.

  But the glimpse she’d seen of the torrential water haunted her. What if people had died? What if the reason there weren’t more people here was because they’d all gone? Rachel felt dizzy with panic. What if this was all there was left of the world that up until yesterday had seemed so ordinary and boring?

  ‘Is there any news?’ she shouted, grabbing the arm of one of the rescue workers, who’d recently arrived. He stared out at her from under the hood of his dripping souwester.

  ‘Nothing, yet,’ he replied, above the din. ‘We’ve tried to get through, but we can’t get beyond the bottom of the hill. There’s too much water. We’re doing all we can. We’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news. Don’t worry, love, the rain’s easing up at long last.’

  Rachel wasn’t comforted. She slumped once more into black fear, staring at the road, willing Tony and Bill to come into sight. She had no idea how long she sat for, but she jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned, expecting to see a policeman, or a soldier, but it was Bill. Her mug of cold tea clattered to the floor, the liquid spilling on to her sodden skirt, as she sprang to her feet, wincing at the pain.

  He was drenched. Standing only in a vest and trousers. He looked as if he’d been swimming. Even his shoes were gone. Rachel could see that he was covered in scratches and bruises. He was holding his left arm up in front of him and Rachel could see that he was in a lot of pain.

  She had been expecting him to be angry. She’d been expecting a showdown about how she and Tony had stolen his beloved car, or worse, a furious lecture about her being pregnant, but in an instant she forg
ot all of it, such was her horror at his appearance.

  She gasped and he held out his arms to her.

  ‘Thank God,’ Bill said, holding her tightly to him. He was shivering violently. ‘Thank God, you’re alive.’

  She took the blanket from her shoulders. Then she forced him to sit on a packing crate and put the blanket around him. He was soaked through, his face smeared in mud and blood.

  ‘I was so worried,’ she said. ‘Oh, Bill, it’s so horrible. Where have you been?’

  ‘Oh God!’ He broke down crying, clinging to her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Emily,’ she thought she heard him say. ‘She’s gone.’

  Bill’s eyes were bloodshot as he looked up at her. ‘I tried to hold on to her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t,’ he said, his voice catching in his throat. ‘I watched the water take her, Rachel. I didn’t reach her in time.’

  He pressed his head against Rachel’s chest. She gasped at the pain.

  ‘They’ll find her. Someone will have found her. Don’t worry.’ She tried to find strength to put in her voice, rather than the cold terror she felt.

  ‘I’m going,’ Bill said, suddenly releasing her and springing up from the crate. ‘I’m going to look for her.’

  Rachel clung on to him. ‘But you can’t. It’s too –’

  ‘Let me go.’ He shook her off, shouting now.

  ‘What’s going on back there?’ someone shouted.

  Then Rachel saw two soldiers rushing over. They took hold of him.

  ‘No one goes out,’ one of them said. ‘Not until we’ve got the all-clear.’

  ‘Medic!’ the other soldier called. ‘We’ve got another one in need of attention.’

  It must have been several hours later, just as dawn was breaking that the all-clear was finally given. Shortly afterwards, a crowd of people started walking up the hill, chaperoned by several policemen and soldiers.

  And then, as the darkness faded into a dark grey, suddenly there were people and noise everywhere, lights and sirens as the ambulances and fire engines fought to get through the throng to the injured.

  Desperately, Rachel left her position under the tarpaulin, her legs stiff. She started hobbling as fast as she could through the crowd, scanning each ravaged, harrowed face for Tony. She felt sobs escape her, as each person passed her.

  And then she saw him. He was being supported by a policeman. But he was alive. Her Tony was alive.

  His face looked ashen, his hair plastered to his face. She could see that his shirt was a rag and his trousers were soaked and torn and he was limping, but Rachel thought he was more beautiful than ever.

  She pushed through the crowd and ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck, kissing his face.

  ‘You’re here, you’re here,’ she gasped, through her tears. It didn’t occur to her to worry about who saw them together. Everything that had seemed so important yesterday now seemed so trivial.

  But Tony didn’t have a chance to reply, before Bill rushed forward and split them apart.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ he demanded.

  Tony stared at Rachel and then he looked at Bill. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered.

  She stared at him, trying to grasp what he was telling her. She could tell from the look in his eyes that it was the worst possible news.

  ‘What?’ Rachel asked, taking a step backwards.

  ‘I couldn’t . . . I didn’t get to her in time.’

  ‘What do you mean? She must be here somewhere,’ Bill said, trying to shove past Tony.

  Tony grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘No, it’s too late.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘The house. I saw it go when the flood hit. I was trying to reach it. The whole shop. It’s gone.’

  ‘Gone?’ Rachel gasped.

  ‘I managed to climb to the top of the old oak tree at the alley before the waves hit. That’s where they rescued me from just now.’

  Bill was shaking his head. Rachel could see in the dim light that his face was white with rage. ‘You got to the tree? If you got as far as the tree, you could have got as far as Mum. You . . . you fucking coward!’

  ‘No, Bill, no,’ Tony said. ‘No, I tried, honestly –’

  ‘You’re lying. You just saved yourself, didn’t you? You left her there to die.’

  ‘You! Calm down,’ said a policeman who had heard the commotion. ‘I’m sure the poor lad did his best. You saw the conditions out there yourself. He was lucky to get away with his life. He was up that tree all night.’

  Rachel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother had gone. And Rachel had wished it on her. The last thing she’d said to Tony yesterday was that she hated her mother and wanted her dead. If it was anyone’s fault, it was hers.

  ‘You might as well have killed her yourself,’ Bill shouted, pressing his face up against Tony’s.

  Through her tears, Rachel saw Tony flinch and back away.

  ‘He doesn’t mean that, Tony,’ she said, stepping in between them and breaking them apart.

  ‘I should never have trusted you,’ Bill shouted. ‘I should have gone to her myself. You’re just like your brother . . . you . . . you murderer!’ Bill punched him in the face. Rachel screamed, as Tony staggered backwards. Bill launched himself at Tony and they fell to the wet road, gasping.

  ‘Stop it!’ Rachel yelled at Bill. ‘Stop it.’

  She fell to her knees beside them. They were both gasping for air, Bill grabbed Tony’s wet shirt bunching it up around his neck. The policemen struggled to separate them.

  Rachel pulled at Bill’s shoulder. ‘Let him go, Bill. Let him go!’

  ‘I wanted to save her, I swear it,’ Tony managed, through the stranglehold.

  ‘You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes.’

  Two more policemen descended on them and dragged them all apart. ‘That’s enough. Any more and you’re under arrest.’

  Bill stood upright and shook himself. He put his hands to his hair and bunched them into fists, his face contorted with grief and fury.

  Tony was still lying on the road. His hair had fallen into his face. He touched his cheek where Bill had punched him.

  Rachel stared up at Bill. ‘What are you doing?’ she screamed at him. ‘It’s not Tony’s fault.’

  Bill walked away from her and then walked back, trying to calm down. Then he held out his hand to her.

  ‘Get away from him, Rachel,’ Bill said. ‘Come now. Come on.’

  But Rachel stayed next to Tony, supporting him to his feet.

  ‘I’m not coming anywhere,’ she sobbed. ‘Not with you. How could you say those dreadful things?’

  Bill stepped in close. ‘Now!’

  She clutched on to Tony’s arm.

  ‘If you don’t get away from him, this minute, then you’re no longer my sister. Do you understand?’ Bill’s tone was icy cold as he stared at her. ‘It’s because of him I came to you in the first place when I should have been with Mum. I could have saved them both. Mum and Emily. I shouldn’t have had to be with you, because of your stupidity, your, your . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel cried. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Then come on. Come now!’

  ‘No,’ Rachel sobbed.

  ‘Then I will never speak to you again.’

  And then he was walking away. Rachel rushed after him and tried to grab his arm, but he shook her off.

  ‘Leave him,’ Tony said, catching up with her and putting his arms around her. Through her tears, Rachel watched Bill forcing his way through the crowd, down Summerglade Hill to the town below.

  Chapter XXIX

  Mallorca, Present Day

  In the late afternoon, the heat seemed almost unbearable. It felt as if everything was being burnt by an invisible fire. Laurie, who’d always felt things intuitively, felt as if the air was charged with violence. And yet all around her everything was eerily silent.

  She was sitting in the only shady par
t of the garden she could find, at the corner of the swimming pool, her feet dangling in the warm water. She was in the circle of shade cast by one of the rattan umbrellas, but it hardly helped. She was keeping as still as she possibly could, but could feel perspiration flicking out all over her – even her fingertips, as if she were running a marathon. It felt as if she was suffocating.

  She squinted out at the view, seeing the sunshine reflecting off the shimmering surface of the flat sea, like a swathe of tinfoil. It was almost too painful to look at. In the distance she could see a yacht far away on the horizon. She thought about the day she’d spent sailing on Flight with Sam. She’d been so happy. So clear. But now?

  Laurie pulled her feet from the water and hunched up her knees, resting her temple on her kneecaps. There was still no word from Sam. At first she’d wondered whether the call inside had been from him, but she’d soon changed her mind. She was just being paranoid. It could have been anyone ringing Rachel.

  Sam was probably telling Claire right now, she reasoned with herself. Maybe that was why she was feeling like this. She felt her ears burning and remembered the childish rhyme. What was it? Left for love, right for spite? Well, her right ear was on fire.

  She touched her earlobe tentatively, wishing she could tune in to whatever was being said about her. She felt so helpless. And so nervous. It was her conversation with her father that had done it. Now she was alone and had time to mull over what he’d said, his hard-hitting comments about her not knowing the truth about Sam and Claire’s marriage and his scepticism about Sam’s promise to leave Claire, stung more and more.

  Laurie remembered the wedding photo she’d seen of Sam and Claire together when she’d first arrived at the villa and how betrayed she’d felt. She’d been focused on Sam, but next to him Claire had looked so happy. Happy and delighted. Perhaps her father was right, Laurie pondered, watching two butterflies battle over the surface of the pool. She knew how Sam felt and how things were from his point of view, but she didn’t have a clue about how Claire felt about their marriage. After all, her wedding vows to Sam probably had been sacred. She hadn’t had a clue that Sam was harbouring a guilty secret, that his heart might not have been 100 per cent in it.