by Emlyn Rees
And now three years after that picture had been taken, they were still married. Laurie thought about the times she’d seen Claire and Sam together, how Claire teased him and tried to ruffle his feathers in public. Each time, Laurie had been blinkered by jealousy and irritation, but what if all it had really been was Claire’s way of showing her affection?
Laurie imagined herself in Claire’s shoes. She was going to be devastated when Sam told her he was leaving. It would come as an absolute bolt out of the blue. She couldn’t begin to imagine the hatred Claire would feel towards her. And Claire would be right to hate her, wouldn’t she? After all, this was Laurie’s fault. She’d stolen Claire’s husband away. That was how Claire would see it. She wouldn’t see that there was love involved. She would only ever see deceit and lies.
And what had Claire ever done to Laurie, apart from want to be her friend? All she’d done from the moment they’d been introduced was try and include her and to make her feel like part of the family. And in return, Laurie had betrayed her. She’d thrown their family connection back in her face.
Laurie buried her face in her hands. She felt so wicked. So tainted. All that was good and pure and noble about her love for Sam when they’d been together, now seemed soiled and she felt wretched with guilt. Now she’d seen her father’s view of Sam, as a traitor, she felt like an outcast herself. It wasn’t only Claire but the rest of the world who would never see the truth about her and Sam.
It was all such a journey into the unknown. It was all such a risk. Christ, she didn’t even know whether she and Sam would be compatible living together. He hadn’t met many of her friends and the ones he had met, like Roz, distrusted him for what had happened three years ago. Would any of Laurie’s friends ever be able to see that her and Sam’s bond was amazing and magical? Or, like Laurie’s family, would they only see two people who had fallen from grace, who had been selfish and thoughtless? It seemed so unfair. She didn’t want to be a selfish person, she wanted everyone to be happy.
But now she could see how naive that hope was. The truth was that she didn’t really know anything. Her father’s revelations had made her see that. Laurie glanced towards the back doors of the villa, wondering what was happening in there. Her father had seemed insistent on going to confront Rachel alone and Laurie had known better than to prevent him. And now she didn’t dare interrupt, despite the fact that she was longing to go inside and get her things and leave.
As if reading her thoughts, she heard the swish of the terrace doors sliding open. She scrambled up from the edge of the pool and put on her shoes. The soles of them burnt her feet. Her father and Rachel stepped out on to the terrace together in silence. Laurie shaded her eyes from the sun.
She could tell from the grim look on both of their faces that the reunion hadn’t gone well. Yet, oddly, they both walked side by side down the steps together, their strides perfectly matched, and even from a distance she could see a family resemblance between them.
Yet up close, as she stopped in front of them on the other side of the pool, Laurie was in for a shock. Rachel had been crying. More than that, she looked as if she’d been through a horrible trauma. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face wrinkled, as if she’d aged twenty years in just twenty minutes.
Laurie felt terrible. She wanted to hug her, to try and make things better. She knew how furious her father had been. Had he taken his wrath out on Rachel? Had he reduced her to this humbled shadow of her former self? Rachel had been so excited this morning, now she looked utterly wrecked. Laurie tried to smile at her, but Rachel avoided looking at her.
It was her father who spoke first.
‘You didn’t tell me the truth about Sam, Laurel,’ he said. He never called her Laurel.
Laurie opened her mouth, staring between Rachel and her father.
‘You didn’t tell me that he was related to my sister,’ he continued. ‘That he was married to her granddaughter.’
It was Rachel’s turn to speak. Her voice shook as she glared at Laurie. ‘Is it true?’
Her father had told Rachel about Sam, then. That’s how she’d found out. How bizarre that she’d assumed they were talking about their own past, when all this time they’d been in there talking about her and Sam. No wonder her ears had been burning.
‘Rachel, I didn’t mean to –’ she began, but the look in Rachel’s eyes silenced Laurie and made her stomach lurch.
‘You came here knowing you would be near Sam. And you . . .’ Rachel faltered. ‘I trusted you.’
Laurie stared at them both. She was at a total loss as to how to defend herself. In every possible showdown scenario she’d imagined, either Sam or her father had been by her side, supporting her. She hadn’t expected her father to be with Rachel, taking some moral high ground, being so weirdly protective of her. Now she felt cornered.
‘But . . . but –’ she stumbled.
‘You’re just a liar!’ Rachel choked and Laurie saw that whatever she said, she’d already been judged. The disgust in her aunt’s voice terrified her. She appealed to her father.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but if you’d have been honest with me and told me about Rachel in the first place, instead of keeping our family a secret for all these years, then I would have known who Sam was. I would have known he was in the same family as me when I fell in love with him three years ago in France.’
‘He wasn’t yours to fall in love with,’ Rachel snapped.
‘Maybe, Rachel. But . . . but Sam’s a person. Not your property.’
‘He’s not yours either. I want you to get out of my house. I want you to leave before you do any more damage.’
Laurie felt utterly stricken by Rachel’s venom. ‘Oh, Rachel. Do you really think that’s why I came here? To make people unhappy? That’s not who I am.’
‘Oh, isn’t it?’
‘No! I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t want it to happen like this –’
‘Might I remind you that Sam is married to Claire,’ Rachel cut in.
It was pointless trying to explain to Rachel, but Laurie tried one last time.
‘Yes, I know that. And he’s been nothing but loyal. He’s stayed with Claire and he’s made a home for Archie. He’s done everything right for you, but he’s sacrificed his own happiness in the process. He didn’t want this to happen, either.’
‘How dare you! He was perfectly happy until you came along. You’re not going to get him. Do you hear me? I won’t allow it.’
Laurie could tell she meant every word. She felt like a beaten dog. But still she wouldn’t give up. She had to defend her feelings for Sam. She had to try and make them understand. ‘I’m sorry if it goes against your morals, Dad, and I’m sorry it’s turned out like this for you, Rachel, but I’m not going to apologise for falling in love. To either of you. I didn’t choose for it to be like this, but it is. And I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel how I do, just to please you two.’ She stopped. From the hard looks on their faces, she could see she was getting nowhere. Her words were falling on deaf ears. ‘You know what? This is my life. It’s none of your goddamned business.’
‘She’s right, Rachel.’
It was Sam. He must have come through the house. Like an apparition, he was now standing behind Rachel and her father above them on the terrace. She had no idea how long he’d been listening.
Sam took off his sunglasses and it was then that Laurie saw how ashen he looked. He stared through the gap between Rachel and Bill directly at Laurie and the tears that were so close to the surface came rushing out of her in a sob.
‘Oh, Sam,’ she cried, running to him.
He seemed too shaken to say anything. Instead, he held her briefly to him and kissed her forehead. In that moment, she knew he’d told Claire.
‘You can’t do this, Sam!’ Rachel said, her voice shaking.
‘I’m sorry, Rachel, but I already have.’ His voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘Don’t you dare –’ Rachel thundered.
/> He gripped Laurie’s hand. She knew that he loved Rachel and that turning his back on her was one of the hardest parts of what they had to do.
‘Dad?’ Laurie asked, brushing away her tears. But her father turned away and put his hands in his pockets. He didn’t even look at Sam.
‘Bill?’ Rachel shouted. ‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’
‘I can’t stop them, Rachel. You know I can’t. You of all people should know that.’
Rachel stared at him in astonishment.
‘Are you ready?’ Sam whispered, turning to Laurie. He looked harrowed, as if he’d had something knocked out of him.
She nodded.
‘If you go through that door then it’s all over, Sam,’ Rachel called out. ‘If you leave, then you leave everything. You’re fired. I’m warning you –’
But Sam squeezed Laurie’s hand. Turning their backs on Rachel, they walked quickly into the house.
Inside, Laurie made it to the hall before she threw her arms around Sam and held him.
‘Oh, God, Sam, that was so awful,’ she said, shaking.
‘Hideous.’
‘Are you OK? I’ve been so worried.’
He held her face, staring into her eyes. ‘Oh, Laurie, I love you so much.’
He kissed her again, then he pulled away.
‘What happened?’ Laurie asked. ‘What about Archie?’
Sam shook his head. She could see the tears he’d been holding back welling up in his eyes. ‘Claire . . . she . . . I had to leave him.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.’
Why was this so hard? She had no idea what to say to take away Sam’s pain.
‘I can’t bear it,’ he said. ‘Just the thought of him not having a father . . . or calling someone else “Dad”.’ Sam covered his eyes.
‘You’re his dad,’ Laurie said, firmly, taking his hand so that she forced him to look at her. ‘Whatever happens, Archie will always know that, Sam, no matter what. He’ll grow up knowing the truth. Not like me. We’ll see him. And we’ll tell him everything. We’ll make him understand.’
Sam interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed both of her hands.
‘We’ve got each other now,’ she said.
Sam nodded. ‘Let’s just get the hell out of here, shall we?’
They ran up the stairs and collected all her bags. ‘What about the paintings?’ Sam asked.
‘Leave them. I can do more. Let’s just go.’
On the driveway, Laurie dumped the bags by her feet.
‘Whose car?’ she asked. ‘I hired this one, but it doesn’t matter.’
Sam took the car keys of the Porsche out of his pocket and left them in the car door. ‘I don’t work for the company any more, so I guess we’ll take yours.’
He didn’t look back as he walked towards the Fiesta, opened the door and flung Laurie’s bags in the back seat. She watched him, amazed that he was being so brave. He looked at her over the top of the car.
‘I feel so bad about Dad.’ Laurie hesitated, glancing back towards the house.
‘Do you really want to go back in there?’
Laurie shook her head and stared at the house one last time, but she still felt guilty for abandoning her father. She thought about everything he’d told her about his and Rachel’s past. Laurie couldn’t bear the thought that he wouldn’t forgive her for what she’d done. But maybe, once he’d got over the shock of what had happened, he’d understand that she had to make this clean break, just as he had done all those years ago. She had to have a go at making her own family with Sam – even if it meant hurting the people she loved.
‘Laurie?’ Sam asked, gently.
Laurie shook her head and hurried into the car and Sam got in next to her. It was unbearably hot, but she didn’t care. She leant across and kissed him, over and over again. Then she stopped and stared into his eyes.
‘Oh, Laurie,’ Sam said, with a long sigh, as he leant back against the headrest. ‘How could we ever have taken this long to get here?’
‘Hang on,’ she said, with a battle-weary smile as she started the engine. ‘We haven’t got there yet.’
Chapter XXX
Stepmouth, 23 August 1953
The short blast of a hand-cranked air-raid siren rose up into the pale blue skies. It was meant to act as a warning, but it was the last of so many that no one in the Salvation Army food queue, including Tony Glover, so much as flinched. Then came the boom of the high explosive detonating. Away in the distance, a plume of dust and stone splinters burst into the air above where the town hall had once stood.
A whistle blew and the roar of bulldozers and shouting soldiers filled the air as work resumed. Wherever you looked, uniformed people were on the move: members of the army, the civil defence, the RAF, the AA, the RAC and the Women’s Voluntary Service.
There was still so much left to do. The sixty-ton boulder which the army engineers had just exploded was only one tiny part of the estimated fifteen thousand tons of rock which the River Step had swept into town on the night of the flood.
Eight days had passed since then. Yesterday afternoon, Tony had gathered with Rachel and the rest of the remaining townspeople over at the St Jude Cemetery on the grassy, seaward-facing slope to the right of the harbour, as a service for the dead had been held.
Thirty-six people were now known to have been killed in the streets of Stepmouth and the surrounding villages during the night of 15 August. The eldest victim had been an eighty-year-old woman, the youngest a baby boy of barely three months. Four adults remained missing, presumed dead. A solitary Scottish piper had played ‘Flowers of the Forest’ in final tribute to them all. The sad notes had drifted up from the cemetery and into the hills.
A memorial was to be built, inscribed with the names of the dead. The Duke of Edinburgh had promised to visit.
According to a newspaper report Tony had read, on the night of 15 August nine inches of rain had fallen, of which five inches had fallen during the cloudburst which occurred between seven and eight thirty. With no one but nature to blame for what had happened, there was talk now of making representation to the Ministry of Defence with regard to the cloud-seeding operations which had been carried out in the preceding months over the moors.
A BBC television crew had been stationed here all week and had broadcast the service live to the nation. The flood had been the first British disaster to be relayed from country to country, so that now the whole world knew the fate of the town.
Stepmouth had been devastated. Its streets had been choked with rubble and its buildings assaulted and knocked down. Worst hit had been the town centre. Windows hung splintered and smashed. Broken furniture blocked doorways and lay jammed in the mud, which had been dumped nine feet high in between some of the houses that remained. Whole floors of properties had been packed with mud and detritus, or simply swept away. Solitary walls now teetered where two- and three-storey buildings had once stood.
People who’d lived in London had described it as on a par with the damage inflicted on the capital during the Blitz.
The carnage continued inland. This morning, Tony and Rachel had caught a lift in an army truck with the soldiers who’d been billeted in Brookford village. They’d travelled along the West Step valley and down Summerglade Hill and into the town.
A filthy tidemark scorched the valley where the waters had risen. Almost all of the foot and road bridges had been torn down, including the one at Watersbind. That Bill had found one safe enough to cross after the flood had hit, had been a miracle. The hydroelectric power station had also been destroyed. Tony’s stepfather, Don, had slavishly worked there on the night of the flood to keep the power to the town switched on, until he’d finally being forced to flee. Two of Don’s friends had failed to make it out, but Don himself had survived.
Tony reached the counter of the Salvation Army’s mobile canteen.
‘Tony, isn’t it?’ one of the men working there asked.
‘That�
��s right.’
‘Still collecting for your family and’ – the smartly uniformed man scanned the list before him – ‘Rachel Vale?’
‘Yes.’
The man filled Tony’s water bottle with clean water for him, before lifting up a cardboard box on to the counter. The box was marked: glover & vale families (staying together).
Only three houses still stood in the row in which Tony had been born. The engorged West Step had torn the others down on its way past. But Tony’s family had been lucky. His mother’s house, where she and the twins had huddled together in her bedroom, had escaped intact.
Good, then, as well as evil had come from the flood. Tony’s previous disputes with his mother had evaporated in the face of the greater tragedy. He’d moved back home the day after the waters had retreated. His mother had been wonderful with Rachel, too, helping her to come to terms with what had happened. She’d offered to let Rachel stay – at least until the baby was born.
It made sense. Now that Mrs Vale was dead and the possibility of Tony and Rachel staying together in the town had reopened. And it certainly made sense for the next two years, during which time Tony and Rachel would have to spend most of their time apart.
One of the few items not swept away by the flood had been Tony’s call-up papers, which had arrived on the morning of the fourteenth. He’d been summoned to a medical in Barnstaple the following week. Two years in the army would follow. He’d try for married quarters in time, but he’d heard that they were rare.
‘There should be enough for two days there,’ the Salvation Army man said kindly, pushing the brown cardboard box over the counter towards Tony, ‘but let us know if you need any more.’
