Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 4

by Various Authors

‘Was he meant to be?’

  ‘After last night? Damn right. I gave him hell, courtesy of Mr Polgrean.’

  ‘What was all that about a mermaid, by the way?’ she asked, fascinated. ‘What did you do to his boat?’

  ‘Ah,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Yeah, well, there were some marks on the paintwork, and they just suggested this shape to me, so I got some paint—proper marine paint, not any old stuff—and I painted a mermaid over the marks. And she—ah—she was a bit generous in the—ah…’

  ‘Top-heavy?’

  He frowned thoughtfully. ‘Not really. Just very, very lush.’

  ‘Not like me, then,’ she said, wondering if it was utterly unreasonable to be jealous of a mermaid, but Sam just laughed.

  ‘Nothing like you. For a start, you don’t have scaly legs.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’

  He laughed again, and then getting up he cleared the table, put the plates into the dishwasher and pulled her to her feet. ‘I think it’s time for chocolate.’

  ‘In the sitting room?’

  ‘No—upstairs,’ he said, smiling. ‘Go up and wait for me.’

  So she went up and sat in the middle of the bed, still in her sundress, and he came up a few minutes later with a tray.

  ‘What on earth have you got there?’

  ‘Grapes, apple, banana and chocolate. Melted chocolate.’

  ‘Oh, wow. DIY chocolate fondue.’

  ‘Exactly. And I’ll feed you, but first you have to take off your dress.’

  ‘Done,’ she said, flinging it aside. ‘I’ll have apple first.’

  ‘Uh-uh. We haven’t started yet. Lie down.’

  She lay, and he picked up a slice of apple, dipped it in the chocolate and dangled it over her mouth. ‘Open—now suck.’

  She sucked, and his eyes widened.

  ‘Oh, hell, this is not going to work.’

  ‘Works for me,’ she mumbled round the apple.

  He sighed and dipped a slice of banana into the bowl and trailed the warm chocolate over her chest, then licked it away, and she shivered. He did it again, but then his tongue encountered a little bump in the skin, and he licked it clean and looked at it. A tiny scar. He didn’t remember it, but there was plenty of time in eleven years for her to have picked up a scar. He pressed his lips to it and lifted his head, meeting her eyes with a smile.

  ‘Get the idea?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, and, taking her finger and dipping it into the chocolate, she tipped him onto his back and dribbled it down his chest and across the flat, taut plane of his abdomen before putting her finger into her mouth so she could suck it clean while he watched her through narrowed eyes, his breath hissing through his teeth. Then slowly, inch by inch, she followed the dark, glossy trail down his ribs, scooping it up with her tongue while he lay and groaned.

  ‘This was a lousy idea,’ he muttered.

  She lifted her head and grinned at him mischievously. ‘You think? I’ve never had so much fun with chocolate.’

  She straddled him and reached for another fingerful of warm temptation, and as she stroked it over his dark, flat nipples they pebbled under her fingertip and she felt his body harden even more.

  ‘I want you.’

  ‘I know. I can feel.’

  ‘I love you, Gemz,’ he said then, and she stopped, her finger halfway to the sauce, and tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Oh, Sam, I love you, too. I’ve never stopped loving you.’

  ‘Then why—? Oh, hell, what now?’

  She stared at him, and then gradually the sound of his mobile phone got through to her. She moved off him, and he sat up and reached for his jeans, pulling the phone out of his pocket with a short sigh.

  ‘Jamie. What the hell does he want?’ He flipped the phone open. ‘Yeah, hi. What is it?’

  ‘Sam? Sam, where are you?’

  ‘With Gemma,’ he said, picking up a note of panic in his brother’s voice. ‘Why? What’s going on? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Sam, you have to come. It’s Gary—there’s been an accident!’

  ‘What! Where? What kind of accident?’

  ‘A car accident. He stole a car, and he’s rolled it, and he’s trapped underneath, and—Sam, I can smell petrol! You have to come.’

  He stabbed a button and put the phone on hands-free. ‘Where are you?’ he asked, dragging on his jeans while Gemma pulled clothes out of the cupboard and got dressed, handing him his shirt so he could put it on, sorting out his socks and shoes.

  ‘Up at the top of Dunheved Road, near the old mine workings. The car’s upside down in a field, and I can hear him screaming!’

  ‘Screaming’s good,’ Sam said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m coming. Dial 999 and get police, ambulance and fire brigade there now. I’ll be with you in two minutes.’ He hung up and turned to Gemma. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘I’m coming. You might need help.’

  ‘No, it could be dangerous.’

  ‘Sam, shut up and move,’ she said, and ran downstairs after him, her heart in her mouth. No way was she letting Sam put himself in danger without adequate back-up, and, besides, he might need help.

  And she’d just have to put her feelings for the boy aside and try and remain professional.

  They found the car easily, from the wreckage strewn across the road and Jamie standing by the verge, his face striken.

  ‘Sam, he’s here, come on, you’ve got to get him out!’

  ‘Have you called the emergency services?’

  ‘What? No, Gary said no, he didn’t want the police.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Sam growled. Pulling out his phone, he dialled 999 and ran towards the car, handing the phone to Gemma. ‘Keep out of range of the fumes and tell them where we are. I’ll give you an update on Gary.’ He ducked down beside the car with a sharp grunt, and stuck his head under the edge of the wing. ‘Gary? It’s Sam. Tell me what hurts.’

  ‘Everything,’ the youth sobbed. ‘Everything hurts.’

  ‘Can you move?’

  ‘No—I’m stuck, and I can’t move at all. It really hurts if I try, but I’m scared and I can’t breathe properly.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get you out. Are you bleeding anywhere?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s wet, but I don’t know. And my back’s lying on a rock or something, because it really hurts.’

  ‘Sam? Gemma said to give you this,’ Jamie said, handing him a torch with shaking hands.

  ‘Great.’ But it wasn’t, because in the torchlight he could see pink froth around Gary’s lips, evidence of lung trauma. And that meant he was running out of time. ‘Gemma?’

  ‘Yes?’

  He turned his head towards her but toned down the words for Gary’s benefit. ‘Tell them he’s trapped under the car. He’s bleeding from a head wound, but his pupils are equal and reactive, and his GCS is 14 at the moment. He’s having trouble breathing and he says his back hurts. He could be stuck on a rock. Tell them to get a wriggle on, I think he’d like to get out quite soon.’

  ‘OK,’ she called, but he could hear the tremor in her voice, and he cursed his brother and this stupid, stupid idiot he’d got himself mixed up with. Joy-riding, of all the dangerous and lunatic things, and their timing…

  ‘Right, I’m going to try and get closer and see what’s going on,’ he said, but he just couldn’t. The gap was too small, and every time he tried to shift himself, he got a shaft of pain through his shoulder.

  And then Gemma was at his side, handing the phone to Jamie and telling him to give directions and stand by to flag down the emergency services, then tugging at his clothes.

  ‘Sam? Get out of the way, you’re too big to fit in there.’

  ‘No way! You aren’t going in! Gemz, no!’

  ‘Shut up and move,’ she said under her breath. ‘Someone needs to assess him, and you can’t get in there, and if one of us doesn’t he might die.’

  ‘He’s not going to die.’

  ‘Do you know
that?’

  And of course he didn’t, but there was a chance they all would, with the petrol leak, and just the thought of Gemma trapped under the car if it went up brought bile to his throat.

  ‘You can’t—’

  ‘I can. Please.’

  And because she was right, because she was smaller than him, and fitter, and more agile, he had to let her, even though it tore him apart.

  He couldn’t lose her now—not now, after eleven damn years of wanting her back. Not when they were so close to sorting it out. He felt hot tears sting his eyes, but there was no time for sentiment, and he ran back to his car and pulled his medical bag out of the boot.

  ‘Here, I’ve got a cannula. See if you can establish IV access, and I’ve got some oxygen and a mask. And, Gemz?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I love you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I LOVE you.

  The words stayed in her head, echoing round and round for the next dreadful minutes as she struggled to get IV access and keep him oxygenated.

  ‘Gary, lie still, you mustn’t move your head, you might have a neck injury. Just lie as still as you can for me, that’s great, and we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.’

  She could hear the sirens approaching, the blue flashing lights flickering on their surroundings and casting weird shadows under the cramped space she was squeezed in with the injured boy. And what she could see in those pulses of light didn’t reassure her at all.

  She reached her hand under his shoulder and felt something warm and tacky, and her heart sank. Blood. Lots of it, seeping out of him at an unsustainable rate, and he was starting to fit.

  ‘OK, we have to get him out of here now!’ she yelled, and Sam ducked down behind her and laid his hand on her thigh.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘He’s fitting, Sam, and there’s so much blood—Oh, hell, he’s gone off. He’s not breathing. Sam, we have to get the car off him or we don’t stand a chance!’

  Behind her, she heard Sam relaying her message, then the voices of the other men arguing, and then she felt someone grab hold of her feet and pull her out.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We’re going to roll the car off him. Come on, out of the way, Gemz.’

  He hauled her to her feet and they stumbled backwards as the fire crew and policemen heaved in a concerted effort, and the car hovered and then rolled away, bouncing back on its wheels with a series of creaks and groans.

  Light flooded the scene, and Sam dived in almost before the car had settled and put his ear to Gary’s chest. ‘Quiet!’ he yelled, and everyone fell silent. ‘Right, he’s still with us, we need to stabilise his spine and then scoop and run! Move!’

  They moved, and in a matter of moments he was logrolled onto the spinal board, supported and strapped in place and loaded into the waiting ambulance. And Adam Donnelly was there, too, getting into the ambulance and telling Sam to go back to Jamie.

  ‘He needs you, he’s in a hell of a state. I’ve got this one. Maggie’s coming, she’ll see to him. Right, let’s go, everybody!’

  Sam turned and looked at Jamie, who was hovering on the fringe, his face ashen and his body shaking. And for the first time he realised there was blood running down his cheek.

  He must have scratched himself climbing through the hedge, he thought dumbly, and then Jamie held his stomach and turned away. ‘I feel sick,’ he said, and retched violently onto the ripped-up grass at the side of the road.

  ‘Jamie?’ Gemma crossed to him and put her arm round his shoulders, and Sam stared at him in consternation. Was it just shock? Or…?

  ‘So can anybody tell me how it happened?’

  Sam turned to see Lachlan D’Ancey standing in the road with a cluster of police around him, and his heart sank. Of all the things for Jamie to get himself involved in, he thought, and then he heard Jamie talking and his breath jammed in his throat.

  ‘He said he’d borrowed it—I didn’t even realise he had a licence, but then I realised it wasn’t borrowed at all, and I begged him to stop, but he just went faster, and he was laughing and saying old man Polgrean deserved it if he trashed his car after last night, and then we started to skid and there was a thump and we were just flying through the air.’

  Dear God. He’d been in the car?

  Sam felt his legs give, and jammed his knees back to stop them collapsing. No! He hadn’t been in the car! Surely not? He’d have been injured, and Sam hadn’t even so much as glanced at him.

  ‘Jamie, let me see you,’ he said, crossing to him and taking the torch from Gemma. He flashed it in his eyes, but to his relief his pupils were equal and reactive and although he was obviously distressed, he was alert.

  So he might be concussed, but he wasn’t showing signs of brain injury yet. He was lucid, shocked but basically functioning, and Sam lowered the torch and handed it back to Gemma.

  ‘What hurts?’ he asked, scanning him quickly and noting he was holding his left arm. ‘Were you wearing a seat belt?’

  Jamie nodded. ‘I was—Gary wasn’t.’

  Of course not. He’d thought he was immortal, beyond the laws of man or God, but he’d found out the hard way that that simply wasn’t true. And he’d taken Jamie with him on that fateful journey with potentially disastrous consequences, and they could have both been dead.

  He swallowed hard. ‘I need to check you over properly,’ he said, wrestling back his control and prioritising.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Jamie’s voice was hollow, and Sam ached for him. He felt Gemma beside him squeeze his arm, giving him support. ‘No, but he’s in a very bad way,’ he said softly.

  ‘I want to go with him.’

  ‘No, I need to look at you, Jamie. We can go to the surgery.’

  ‘Can we talk to James now? We need to take a formal statement.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not yet, Lachlan. I want to check him out first. I need to have a proper look at him and X-ray his arm, amongst other things. But you could talk to Mrs Lovelace. She needs to know. Gemma? Keep an eye on him for a minute, I’m just going to pick up my things. I won’t be long, bro.’

  So while he retrieved his medical equipment from the midst of the wreckage, she put her arm round Jamie’s waist and led him to Sam’s car and put him into the passenger seat, then perched on the edge and held him tight as he started to shake violently.

  ‘Are you OK, Jamie?’ she asked softly.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, but his voice was flat and his body was shaking like a leaf.

  ‘How’s your arm?’

  He looked down at it in confusion. ‘Um—I don’t know. Sore? I can’t really feel anything.’

  Oh, Sam, come on, she thought. Come and talk to him. Come and check him over.

  But then Maggie Donnelly, Adam’s wife, appeared and crouched down and asked him a few questions, then went back to Sam, who shook his head. Oh, no, Sam, she thought, because she’d heard Jamie’s answers, and she didn’t like them.

  She went to Sam, taking his hand and gripping it tight. ‘They have to take him to hospital, Sam,’ she said, backing the paramedic up. ‘Maggie’s right, they have to get him checked over properly, make sure you haven’t missed anything.’

  ‘I can do it.’

  ‘No, Sam, you can’t,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s your brother. You’re too close. Just go with him and be with him, and I’ll go and tell your mother what’s happening and wait with her, OK?’

  He hesitated for an age, then nodded. ‘OK. How will you get back down to town?’

  She smiled. ‘I’m sure I can convince the patrol car to drop me off.’

  He nodded, then, ignoring the onlookers, he bent his head and kissed her. ‘Thank you. And thanks for going to Mum. Don’t tell her too much.’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘I won’t. Go on, go and look after him. He needs you. He’s pretty shaken up. Are you all right to drive?’

  He nodded again. It seemed to be all he could do. Words wer
e deserting him and all he could see was the car flying through the air with his brother inside it. He could have been killed, and Gary might already be dead.

  ‘Right, come on, let’s go, we’ll follow you, but pull over if he deteriorates,’ Maggie said, and Sam got into his car beside Jamie, fastened his seat belt for him and then followed the ambulance back to St Piran’s.

  It was after three before they got home, and Gemma was sitting up with Linda in the kitchen drinking what felt like their hundredth cup of tea as the car pulled up.

  ‘Oh, that’s Sam. Gemma, make sure—see if he’s brought Jamie.’

  Her face crumpled, and Gemma hugged her swiftly and went out of the front door in time to see Jamie unfolding himself stiffly from the front seat, his left arm in a sling and with a back-slab on it, and steristrips on his cheekbone.

  ‘Jamie’s here,’ she called back, and she heard Linda’s sob of relief. She smiled at the young man as he stepped inside, trying not to wince at the rapidly emerging bruises on his face. Linda was going to have a fit. ‘Hi, sport, how are you?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Sore,’ he said, still sounding shaken, ‘and I just want to go to sleep but Sam won’t let me.’

  ‘You can go to sleep, but I’m going to keep waking you,’ Sam warned, ‘just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘But I don’t want to wake up.’

  ‘I know. Neither do I. But I need to make sure you’re all right. You’ve had a head injury, Jamie, you need to be checked regularly.’

  Then Linda was gathering her errant son gently into her arms and sobbing, and Jamie was patting her awkwardly and trying not to cry, and Gemma could see that Sam was struggling, too.

  And it had all been so horribly, stupidly unnecessary.

  ‘How’s Gary?’ she asked Sam in a low voice, and he shrugged.

  ‘Touch and go. Ben Carter filled me in. He’s got a shattered pelvis, a flail chest with penetrating rib injuries and a head injury—and that’s just the obvious stuff. They’re stabilising him, but he’s got weak reflexes in his legs and he may have permanent damage to his spinal cord. They’re going to scan him when he’s stable, but he’s on steroids now and they’re fighting to keep him alive. The rest will sort itself out if he makes it.’