Caroline Anderson, Josie Metcalfe, Maggie Kingsley, Margaret McDonagh

by Brides of Penhally Bay Vol. 03 (li

  ‘Eve—’

  ‘And it never goes away, Tom,’ she said. ‘Oh, gradually, you pick up the pieces, learn somehow to go on, but it can’t ever go away because there are all these dates, you see. The day when he or she would have had their first birthday, the day they would have started school, and all…’ She took a ragged breath. ‘All the Christmases you never share with them.’

  ‘Eve, I—’

  ‘You implied I took the easy way out, Tom,’ she said, catching his gaze, refusing to allow him to look away. ‘Well, you tell me whether you think it’s been easy for me.’

  He opened his mouth to reply, but, before he could say anything, Hazel had appeared, her eyes shining.

  ‘Eve, someone’s just arrived I know you’ll be delighted to see,’ the practice manager declared.

  Quickly Eve hurried out into the school hall and when Tom followed her he saw her glance around, expectant, hopeful, and then the hall door opened, and Tassie raced in. For a second Eve’s face lit up with a blinding smile but, as she held out her arms, and Tassie raced straight past her towards her mother, Tom saw her smile slide slowly sideways. Slide—just for an instant—into an expression of hurt, and then into an accepting, rueful, wistful yearning that tugged at his heart.

  Tassie wasn’t simply a child Eve was trying to help. Tassie was the child Eve had never had, the child she had lost.

  Not lost, a small voice reminded him. Didn’t want, but the small voice held no conviction. In truth, it never had. It had been his own guilt which had made him stand coldly by while Eve had poured out all her anguish and suffering. His own guilt which had kept him aloof from her, because she had been right.

  He wouldn’t have wanted a child when he’d been twenty-four. All the plans he’d had then, his aims, his dreams…He would have seen a child as an encumbrance, something he had been saddled with, and what kind of life would that child have had, with him rejecting her or him, giving money perhaps but even then grudgingly? He would have been his father all over again, not in the violence—never in the violence—but in the resentment, the feeling of having been cheated out of the life he had wanted, dreamt of.

  Savagely, he bit his lip. How could he have accused her of taking the easy way out? She’d taken the hardest decision any woman could ever make, taken it alone, had had to live with it alone, carrying the knowledge, and the pain, for twenty years, and what had he done? He’d watched impassively as she’d broken her heart all over again in telling him. He’d been wrong—so wrong—and somehow he had to tell her that, but how could he get her to listen to him after what he had said, what he’d accused her of?

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Gertrude Stanbury declared, as she walked towards him, leaning heavily on the arm of a young policeman. ‘I wondered when the pilot said he’d been sent by a Dr Cornish, but I didn’t believe it really could be you, not after all these years. It’s good to see you again, lad.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, too, Miss Stanbury,’ he managed to reply. ‘I understand you and young Tassie have had quite an afternoon.’

  The old lady chuckled.

  ‘You could say that,’ she said. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t be here at all if it hadn’t been for the girl. I told her I’d never get up into the attic—that she was to save herself—but she refused to take no for an answer, and somehow, between the two of us, she got me up there.’

  ‘Would you like something hot to drink, Miss Stanbury?’ Eve asked as she joined them. ‘We’ve tea—coffee—cocoa…’

  ‘Cocoa,’ Miss Stanbury said firmly, ‘and a seat if one’s available. The young man who winched me out of my house was most kind, and reassuring, but dangling above Penhally, held only by a harness and a stranger’s arms, is not my idea of a fun time out.’

  Eve laughed. Gently, she and Tom helped the elderly lady across the hall, but once Eve had settled Gertrude into a seat, she straightened up and there was no laughter in her face, only an unreadable blankness.

  ‘I expect you’ll be wanting to get back to the radio, Tom,’ she said.

  The finality in her voice was plain and he knew, as he watched her walk away to get Gertrude cocoa, that he had been dismissed as effectively as if she’d actually closed a door on him, and he deserved it. Twice in her life he had let her down. Twice he hadn’t been there for her when it had really mattered, and this last time…

  ‘Whatever it is, lad, I’m sure you’ll sort it.’

  He glanced down to see Gertrude staring up at him, her small face oddly understanding, and shook his head.

  ‘I don’t think I can this time, Miss Stanbury,’ he said. ‘I think this time I’ve screwed up big time.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE sun was shining. It was unbelievable, Eve thought as she stared up into the cloudless blue sky, but the sun was actually shining and as long as she kept looking up she could almost believe that the devastating flood which had hit Penhally yesterday had never happened. Almost, but not quite.

  ‘I suspected it might look pretty bad this morning,’ Kate murmured, ‘but I never for one minute…’

  The midwife’s voice trailed away into silence and Eve could understand her difficulty. Yesterday Penhally had been a picture-perfect village, full of people going about their daily business, but this morning the area around the harbour looked as though some malevolent giant had taken a hammer and smashed his way through the buildings, heaping boulders, trees, telephone poles and dustbins onto roofs, and tearing up roads and pavements in his relentless march onwards.

  ‘I’m amazed the surgery wasn’t touched, or any of our homes, apart from poor Chloe and Oliver’s,’ Eve observed. ‘They’re going to stay with Lauren, aren’t they, until their house can be dried out?’

  ‘If it can be dried out,’ Kate said dubiously. ‘Tom says all the houses can be made habitable again but when you look at this…I know the Lanson’s flowing within its banks again, and somehow the Harbour Bridge is still intact, but one of Tom’s men told me all of the houses have at least three feet of water and mud in them.’

  ‘I suppose Tom’s the expert,’ Eve said uncertainly, though she had to admit she couldn’t see how anyone could ever live in Bridge Street or Gull Close again either.

  ‘I’m just so glad Tom is here,’ Kate continued. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue about how to begin searching for the people who are missing, would you?’

  Eve shook her head as she glanced over to where Tom was deep in conversation with Nick, Chief Constable D’Ancey and a group of men dressed in coveralls emblazoned with the Deltaron insignia. It wasn’t a task she would have liked and, judging by the expression on Nick’s face, Tom’s suggestions weren’t meeting with his approval, whereas Tom…

  She shifted her gaze quickly towards some of the shopkeepers who were standing in dazed huddles outside their ruined shops. She didn’t know what Tom was thinking, didn’t want to be anywhere near him for fear he would look at her with the same condemnation and disgust as he had done yesterday.

  ‘How’s Stephanie Richards?’ she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  ‘She and her son are doing very well,’ Kate replied, ‘though goodness knows where they’re going to stay when they’re discharged from hospital.’

  ‘Oliver said the owners of the Penhally Paradise Caravan Park have offered some of their caravans as temporary accommodation for people who can’t go back to their homes,’ Eve observed. ‘And Tony has offered the use of some of the bedrooms at Smugglers’ Inn.’

  ‘Did you hear he was still giving out orders while they were carrying him out to the helicopter?’ The midwife shook her head. ‘The man was having a heart attack, for God’s sake, and yet he was still giving out orders.’

  Eve laughed. ‘One of a kind, Tony.’

  ‘So is Tom.’

  Kate’s gaze was fixed on her, and Eve couldn’t meet the midwife’s eyes.

  ‘He’s certainly a good organiser,’ she said noncommittally, and Kate sighed.

  ‘Eve, whatever
happened in the past, let it go. You can’t alter it—change it—so let it go.’

  ‘What has Nick been say—?’

  ‘This has nothing to do with Nick,’ Kate interrupted as Eve’s eyes shot to hers in alarm, ‘this is just me talking to you, one woman to another. We’ve all made mistakes—me, more than most—but you have to forgive yourself your mistakes or they will simply corrode your present and your future.’

  Which was easy for Kate to say, Eve thought as her gaze went back to Tom, but she couldn’t forgive herself. She had learned to live with what she’d done, but she had never forgiven herself and she never would. Tom hadn’t resurrected the old pain. He had simply ripped off the unhealed scab, exposing the old wound for the ugliness it was.

  ‘Which of you two lovelies is Eve Dwyer?’

  A tall man, with flaming red hair and a bushy beard, was gazing at them quizzically, and Eve managed a smile.

  ‘I’m Eve Dwyer.’

  The man’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘Do I know you?’ he asked. ‘Your voice sounds strangely familiar.’

  She recognised his voice, too. It was Mad Mitch or, to be more accurate, Michael Flannery, the pilot from the radio last night.

  ‘I’m the woman Tom found in the men-only changing room,’ she said before she could stop herself, and the pilot threw back his head, and laughed.

  ‘Pleased to meet you in the flesh, so to speak,’ he said. ‘Tom would like a word.’

  ‘With me?’ Eve said faintly.

  ‘With you.’ The pilot nodded. ‘He has a suggestion to make, and your boss isn’t very happy about it.’

  Kate’s eyes gleamed.

  ‘Now, this I want to hear,’ she said, and carefully the midwife followed Eve over the rubble-strewn pavement towards where Tom was standing.

  ‘So, what you’re basically saying is, according to your engineer, most of the shops and houses should be habitable once the water and silt have been pumped out, but the Anchor Hotel is a writeoff?’ they heard Chief Constable D’Ancey declare.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Tom replied. ‘For the moment I’d recommend you erect scaffolding to ensure no more of it comes down, but after that I’d say you’re pretty well definitely looking at a demolition job.’

  ‘When are people going to be allowed back into their homes to collect their personal possessions?’ Nick demanded. ‘The police can’t watch every house, and people are becoming understandably twitchy about their valuables.’

  ‘They’ll become considerably twitchier if they’re electrocuted,’ Tom said dryly. ‘The electricity company isn’t sure all power has been disconnected to the village, and until they are nobody enters any house apart from me and my men.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Nick, if you want to be useful, go and open up the surgery,’ Tom interrupted. ‘With all this polluted water lying about I should imagine you’ll be inundated with people requiring tetanus injections.’

  ‘I don’t take orders—’

  ‘I’ve the press at my heels wanting to come into Penhally to take photographs,’ Chief Constable D’Ancey declared, cutting across Nick who shot him a fulsome look. ‘They’re also very keen to do an interview with you.’

  ‘I’ve more important things to do than give interviews,’ Tom said tightly, ‘and neither do I want photographers scrambling over the rubble in search of a story. Keep them out.’

  Eve saw Nick’s lip curl as the chief constable hurried off to forestall the members of the press. So, too, she noticed, had Tom, and quickly she cleared her throat.

  ‘Mitch said you had a suggestion to make to me?’ she said, and Tom nodded.

  ‘At the moment, I’m the only medic on the rescue team,’ he declared. ‘We have spare medi-bags but they’re no use without someone who knows how to use the contents, and I wondered if you’d like to help.’

  ‘And I have said,’ Nick exclaimed, ‘if another medic is required then Oliver or I will volunteer. Eve is not a qualified rescue worker, or a doctor.’

  ‘But she’s a fully qualified nurse, and she’s small, and there may be areas that only someone small will be able to get into,’ Tom said, his voice calm but with an unmistakable hint of steel beneath it. ‘And I would like Eve to help, if she’s willing.’

  ‘Eve is a member of my staff, and I will not agree to this,’ Nick retorted.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a question of whether you agree or not,’ Tom began. ‘Eve—’

  ‘Can make up her own mind, thank you very much,’ she interrupted, ‘so would the two of you both park your testosterone to one side for the moment, and concentrate on what’s really important?’

  Tom’s jaw dropped, Mitch Flannery smothered a wry chuckle, and Nick looked absolutely furious, but Kate laughed.

  ‘Well said, Eve,’ she declared. ‘Nick, it’s Eve’s decision,’ she continued quickly as the senior partner opened his mouth, clearly intending to continue the argument. ‘If she wants to volunteer then surely it’s her choice, not yours.’

  Eve didn’t have the faintest idea of what she might be volunteering for but she didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that Tom had specifically asked for her. She hadn’t expected him to—was amazed that he had—and if he was holding out any kind of olive branch she had no intention of rejecting it.

  ‘I want to help,’ she said firmly, and saw Tom’s lips curve into a hesitant smile, a smile she returned equally tentatively.

  ‘I am Eve’s boss,’ Nick declared angrily, ‘and I still don’t think—’

  ‘I know you don’t, Nick,’ Kate interrupted, ‘but right now we have a surgery to open.’

  And, with a backward wink at Eve, the midwife towed a clearly reluctant Nick away leaving Eve standing awkwardly beside Tom and Mitch Flannery.

  ‘Do we know how many people we’re looking for?’ she asked.

  ‘Thankfully only three people still haven’t been accounted for,’ Tom replied. ‘Reverend Kenner, Audrey Baxter and Sophie Banks.’

  ‘Sophie?’ Eve gasped. ‘But—’

  ‘She should have been at school.’ Tom nodded. ‘Her mother thought she was, and so she didn’t worry about her, thinking she was safe with the other kids, and the school weren’t concerned because they thought Sophie had been told to take the day off after she’d been to the surgery to see you.’

  ‘And Reverend Kenner and Audrey Baxter?’ Eve said.

  ‘A neighbour saw Mrs Baxter leaving her house just before the river broke its banks,’ Mitch Flannery declared. ‘Reverend Kenner appeared to be trying to persuade her to go back into her house but, since then, there’s been no sign of either of them.’

  ‘Mitch, do we have any protective coveralls and thermals that would fit Eve?’ Tom said, his gaze taking in her jeans, sweater and sturdy boots.

  ‘I doubt we’ve anything small enough,’ the pilot said dubiously. ‘Gregory’s our shortest man, but even he’s a good four inches taller than this lass.’

  Gregory was.

  ‘If you laugh at me, you’re a dead man,’ Eve warned a little later, when Mitch led her back to Tom and she saw his lips twitch as his gaze took in her rolled-up sleeves and trouser legs.

  ‘Would I laugh?’ he protested, and she nodded.

  ‘Without a second’s thought,’ she said, and heard Mitch guffaw.

  ‘Keeper, Tom,’ the pilot observed. ‘Trust me, this one’s a keeper.’

  ‘A keeper of what?’ Eve said in confusion but, for an answer, Tom placed a string round her neck with a whistle at the end.

  ‘Blow once on this if you spot somebody alive, and blow twice if you see a body. It’s standard rescue procedure,’ he continued as she stared down at the whistle.

  ‘Right,’ she said, swallowing hard, and praying she would only have to blow once on the whistle as Tom called for his men’s attention.

  ‘Does everyone have a thermal imaging camera?’ he asked and, when his question was greeted with a series of nods, he added, ‘OK, Mitch, I want you a
nd your men to survey Bridge Street. Gregory, you and your team will do Gull Close, Frank, you take Harbour Road. I’ll do Fisherman’s Row, and if anyone spots any signs of life, it’s the usual drill.’

  Obediently, the men split themselves into four groups but, as Tom began to move off, Eve tentatively put her hand on his arm.

  ‘Why, Tom?’

  To her relief he didn’t pretend to misunderstand her.

  ‘Because—as I said—you’re a qualified nurse, and small, and because…’ He lifted his shoulders awkwardly. ‘Yesterday, I said some totally unforgivable things to you, and apologising…You know I’m not good with words. If you want cutting and cruel, then I was taught by the best, but saying I’m sorry…’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ she said softly, and saw a muscle clench in his cheek.

  ‘I do, but now’s not the time to discuss it. I just wanted you to know…’ He bit his lip. ‘Asking for you, I hoped maybe you might see…’

  ‘An olive branch?’ she said. ‘Seen, and accepted, Tom. Now, tell me how these thermal imaging cameras work.’

  For a second he gazed at her silently, then he smiled.

  ‘You’re something else, Eve Dwyer.’

  ‘Lippy, irritating, argumentative—yeah, I know,’ she said lightly, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, ‘and you still haven’t told me what a thermal imaging camera does.’

  His smile widened.

  ‘They detect and produce images of radiation, and since infrared radiation is emitted by all objects based on their temperatures, warm objects stand out well against cool backgrounds so humans and other warm-blooded animals become easily visible whether it’s day or night.’

  ‘Clever,’ she said with admiration.

  ‘Very.’He nodded, then his smile faded. ‘Of course they can only pick up images of living things.’

  ‘You think…’ She swallowed. ‘You think they might all be dead?’