‘I think we have to be prepared for that given the silence.’
‘The silence?’ she repeated.
‘Eve, if you were trapped, what would you be doing?’
‘I’d be…Oh, I see,’ she said with dawning comprehension. ‘I’d be yelling my head off to attract attention, but nobody’s yelling.’
‘Exactly.’
She hoped he was wrong. She hoped it even more as the morning crept by with a painstaking slowness she found frustrating as Tom and his men scanned every square foot of rubble in Fisherman’s Row with their cameras, and then checked and double-checked the results with a sound detector and fibreoptic probe.
‘You thought a rescue operation would be a lot more exciting,’ he observed with a slight smile, correctly reading her mind when he ordered his men to take a break. ‘With people rushing from place to place.’
She coloured. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Sometimes it’s like that,’ he admitted. ‘If a lot of people are trapped you can come upon them quite quickly, but when it’s just three we have to take it slowly in case we miss something, plus there are a lot of potential hazards. Standing water can be electrically charged from underground or downed power lines, and we don’t know how much untreated raw sewage there is in the water, not to mention the biohazards of dead animals, rotting food and liquid petroleum gases.’
She shivered as she stared up at the water line which showed how high the floodwater had reached in Fisherman’s Row, and she knew it had been even higher in Bridge Street and Gull Close.
‘I don’t know how you can do this over and over again.’
‘Somebody has to,’ Tom observed.
‘I know, but…’
She shivered again and, as though on cue, one of Tom’s men appeared carrying a tray of steaming white polystyrene cups.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, screwing up her nose after she’d taken a sip.
‘Hot water, with three sugars,’ the man replied, and she grimaced.
‘I’d rather have a coffee,’ she observed, and Tom grinned.
‘Wouldn’t we all, but both coffee and tea have caffeine in them, and that’s a no-no because caffeine dehydrates you, and as we’re all dehydrating rather a lot because we’re sweating we don’t want to add to it.’
‘I’d still rather have a coffee,’ she said with feeling as she sipped the hot water. ‘Do you suppose…?’ She came to a halt, seeing a dog appear at the top of Fisherman’s Row. ‘Tom, isn’t that Foxy—Audrey’s dog?’
He nodded as his eyes followed hers.
‘Which would suggest Audrey is somewhere nearby. Dogs have a much more highly developed sense of smell than we do, and…Oh, hell.’
‘What?’ Eve said, in confusion, seeing Tom throw down his polystyrene cup, his face grim.
‘He’s pawing at the rubble by the Anchor Hotel. I think we may have found Audrey.’
They’d also found Reverend Kenner, too.
‘My guess is the lady lost her footing when the river burst its banks,’ Mitch declared. ‘The reverend was holding her round the waist, so I’d say he was trying to keep her head above water, and then the outer wall of the hotel came down on them.’
Foxy was howling at the top of his lungs, desperately trying to get to his mistress, and Eve turned away quickly, not wanting anyone to see the tears that had filled her eyes at the sight of the two covered bodies lying on stretchers, but an arm came round her shoulders instantly.
‘I shouldn’t have asked you to do this,’Tom murmured. ‘I’ll get Mitch to take you back to the surgery.’
‘No,’ Eve insisted, wiping her sleeve across her eyes. ‘Sophie is still missing so I’m not giving up. I just need…’ Her voice became suspended, and she took a ragged breath. ‘Why, Tom? Daniel Kenner…He was such a good man, such a kind man, and now Rachel has no father, her child will have no grandfather, and Audrey…Yes, she was a gossip, but to die like that…Why do some people live, and some people die, Tom?’
‘An old Buddhist monk once told me that for some people it’s simply their time,’ Tom said, drawing her closer.
‘It isn’t for everyone—not always,’ she said with difficulty, and she knew he understood what she meant because she felt his chin come to rest on the top of her head.
‘Sufficient unto the day, Eve,’ he said, his voice as uneven as hers. ‘Sometimes that’s all any of us can hold on to.’
‘Tom, I…’ She looked up at him, begging him to believe her, to understand. ‘I didn’t want to do it. Our baby. I truly didn’t want to do it.’
‘I know,’ he said, his voice thick. Gently, he smoothed her hair back from her face with his fingers. ‘Eve…’ A loud blast from a whistle rent the air, and he turned towards it immediately. ‘Someone’s found a live one.’
He and Mitch were off and running before Eve could say anything, and by the time she’d caught up with them near the top of Bridge Street they were already deep in conversation with the man Tom had called Gregory.
‘Is it Sophie?’ she asked breathlessly as she stumbled to a halt beside them.
‘Yes.’
Something about Tom’s tone made her heart clutch.
‘But I thought—One blast of the whistle—doesn’t that mean she’s alive?’ she said.
‘She is, but she’s in big trouble,’ Tom replied.
‘I have glucagon in here,’ Eve said, opening the medi-bag that Mitch had given her. ‘If her blood-sugar levels are too low, and she’s become hypoglycaemic—’
‘She had the presence of mind to keep taking her glucagon, at least at the beginning,’ Tom interrupted, ‘but she was spending her day off school hiding out in one of the concrete sheds at the back of Bridge Street. That’s why it’s taken us so long to find her because Mitch and his men were concentrating on scanning the houses first.’
‘And?’ Eve demanded, wishing he would get to the point.
‘When the shed flooded, part of it came down trapping Sophie by her leg.’
And not just trapping her by the leg, Eve realised when she followed the men down the narrow alley way to get to the back of the houses in Bridge Street. The piece of concrete had also come down at a right angle so all that was visible of the teenager was her head and upper body, and only somebody small would have any chance of being able to crawl close enough to her to assess her medical condition.
‘It will have to be me, won’t it?’ Eve declared, cutting right across Mitch and Tom as they discussed how Tom might reach the girl. ‘Look, you said one of the reasons you wanted me was because I’m a fully qualified nurse, and I’m small,’ she continued, seeing Tom’s eyebrows snap down, ‘so it has to be me, doesn’t it?’
‘But if the rest of the shed comes down…’ Tom said, indecision plain on his face.
‘Tom, the longer we stand here debating this, the more likely it is that it will come down,’ she said.
‘She’s right, Tom,’ Mitch declared, and Eve saw Tom’s eyebrows knit together still further.
‘OK,’ he said with clear reluctance, ‘but if the shed begins to move I want your promise you’ll get out of there.’
‘I promise,’ Eve said.
‘Show me your hands.’
‘What?’
‘Eve, I know you’ve got your fingers crossed behind your back,’ he declared, ‘so let me see your hands when you promise.’
‘OK—OK—I promise, no fingers crossed, and now can we get on with this?’ she exclaimed, but she didn’t feel anything like as confident when she began crawling under the concrete to get to the teenager.
Not only was the space a lot smaller than it looked, the water was filthy, and when she felt something brush against her leg and realised it was a dead rat, it took all of her self-control not to scuttle back out and run screaming from the building.
‘Are you OK?’ Tom called when she let out a gasp and Eve gritted her teeth until they hurt.
‘Fine,’ she said, but she felt even less fine after she’d
examined the teenager.
Sophie was barely conscious and didn’t even seem to be aware she was there and with a temperature of 91°F, and a GCS of 3-3-4, the girl was very ill indeed.
‘I think she must be losing a lot of blood from her leg,’ Eve said, and saw Tom shake his head.
‘I think she’s losing some, but not enough to cause those Glasgow coma scale results,’ he replied. ‘My guess is the main problem is she’s been lying in freezing water for the past twenty-one hours.’
‘A thermic lance,’ Mitch declared. ‘It’s the only way, Tom.’
‘What’s a thermic lance?’ Eve asked, glancing from Mitch to Tom, and it was Tom who answered.
‘Basically, it’s a long iron tube packed with a mixture of iron and aluminum rods. We feed oxygen through the tube, and when it’s lit, it produces an intense flame that can cut through steel and concrete, but…’
‘But?’ Eve prompted.
‘I don’t know whether it will be able to cut through fast enough,’ Tom said, ‘and if it does whether the two halves will split away from her leg or impact down on her.’
‘Tom, if we don’t do something soon I think the question of what way the concrete might fall will be academic,’ Eve replied. ‘Her temperature’s falling all the time.’
‘OK, we use the thermic lance,’ he said. ‘Try to keep her awake, Eve. Sing to her—talk to her—but somehow keep her awake.’
It was easier said than done, Eve thought as Tom and Mitch began using the thermic lance to cut through the concrete that was pinning Sophie to the floor. Never had time seemed to pass so slowly as she crouched beneath the concrete, talking about everything and nothing while Sophie became increasingly unresponsive.
‘Tom, her pulse ox is 80, her temperature’s now 88, and she’s not shivering any more,’ Eve reported.
Because Sophie was developing hypothermia.
Neither she nor Tom said it, but they both knew it, and if Sophie’s temperature continued to fall she’d start developing cardiac arrhythmias, then her heart would begin to fibrillate, and if her temperature slipped below 82°F there would be no way back for her.
‘Fifteen minutes,’ Tom replied in answer to Eve’s unspoken question. ‘We should be through the concrete in fifteen minutes.’
‘Tom, I don’t think she’s going to hold on for fifteen minutes,’ Eve said, and he let out a colourful oath.
‘I know,’ he exclaimed, ‘but my only other alternative is to amputate her leg, and she’s a kid, Eve, just a kid.’
But Sophie was going to die if she stayed in this water for much longer, Eve thought, and her feelings must have been all too apparent, because Tom thrust a dirt-grimed hand through his hair.
‘Five minutes, Eve. Five minutes, and if we’re no further forward, we amputate.’
She nodded and, as the seconds ticked by, she prayed as she had never prayed before. Prayed that the concrete would split in two soon. Prayed that Sophie would survive because there was no guarantee, no matter what they did, that she would. The girl was virtually comatose now, and her lips were beginning to turn blue which was a sure sign of cyanosis.
‘It’s moving, Tom,’ Mitch shouted. ‘The bloody thing’s finally moving!’
Without a word Tom immediately crawled as far under the concrete as he could get, and Eve knew why. If the concrete fell on them he intended taking the full brunt of the fall, and her heart stopped for a second at the thought of him being crushed, of him dying in front of her eyes, and then—miraculously— she saw a rush of bubbles in the water and Sophie sagged in her arms.
‘She’s free—I think she’s free,’ she declared, holding onto the girl for all she was worth, and Tom scrambled to his feet and splashed through the water towards her.
‘Mitch, where’s your chopper?’ he demanded as he gripped Sophie under the armpits.
‘The playing fields,’ the pilot replied.
‘Crank it up. This girl needs a hospital, and fast.’
Mitch couldn’t have been faster. Within a short time he had Sophie and Tom airborne and in less than half an hour the girl was being admitted to St Piran’s Hospital.
‘Tom and his men—they’re quite something, aren’t they?’ Lauren said when Eve told her about it later. ‘It’s not a job I’d like to do, but if I was ever in trouble I’d want the men from Deltaron coming over the horizon.’
And especially Tom, Eve thought as she helped the physiotherapist ensure that those who had sheltered in the school hall last night, and those who had taken refuge in The Smugglers’, had all been allocated temporary accommodation in order to leave the hall free for Tom’s men. He must have been exhausted when Mitch brought him back to Penhally but he’d stopped only long enough to tell them that the A and E consultant was hopeful Sophie would make a complete recovery and then he’d gone back out onto the streets with his men.
‘I just wish I could find somewhere other than Harbour View for Miss Stanbury to stay in temporarily,’ Lauren continued. ‘There’s no room left at The Smugglers’, and I’ve put my foot down over a caravan, but she’s such an independent woman, and staying in the nursing-home even for a short time…The last thing I want is her losing confidence in her ability to cope.’
‘Who’s losing confidence?’
Eve turned quickly at the familiar voice, and try as she may she couldn’t prevent her heart lifting when she saw Tom smiling down at her.
‘It’s Miss Stanbury,’ Lauren said, and after she’d explained the situation Tom shook his head.
‘Not a nursing-home, not for Gertie. She can stay in my father’s house in Trelissa Road. It’s fully furnished, so she’ll be quite snug and comfortable until her own home dries out.’
‘Are you sure?’ Lauren declared. ‘I mean, lovely lady though Miss Stanbury is, I don’t know what she would be like to share a house with and you’ll be staying in your father’s house yourself, won’t you, now that the Anchor Hotel is uninhabitable?’
‘Actually I won’t,’ he replied. ‘I’ve made other arrangements.’
‘Really?’ Lauren exclaimed and, when Tom nodded, she beamed. ‘Then you must come and tell her about your kind offer. She’ll be so grateful.’
‘Can’t you tell her?’ he said, already beginning to back awkwardly towards the school-hall door. ‘I’m a bit tired—thought I might just head off, grab some sleep.’
He was out of the hall before Lauren could say anything else, and Eve laughed when she caught up with him.
‘You fraud,’ she declared. ‘You just don’t like people thanking you, do you?’
To her surprise, a faint wash of colour appeared on his cheeks.
‘Not really, no.’
‘And what are these other arrangements you’ve made?’ she demanded, and saw Tom give a shamefaced grin.
‘None, to be honest, but I can think of nothing I’d like less than staying in my father’s old house, plus Gertie did me a good turn in the past and I figure it’s time I repaid the debt. I can sleep in the hall with my men. It’s no big deal, Eve,’ he continued as she began to protest. ‘I’ll be perfectly fine.’
‘I’m sure you will but not when there’s an alternative,’ she said firmly. ‘My house has two bedrooms and you’re more than welcome to use one of them. If…if you want to, that is,’ she added, feeling her cheeks heat up when he stared at her in obvious surprise.
‘I’d love to,’ he said, ‘but have you considered what people might say?’
‘Tom, half of Penhally is covered in mud, silt and boulders. Half of the population are either sleeping with friends, or in a caravan, or at The Smugglers’. If anyone has the time or the energy to check up on where you’re staying, then they need to get a life.’
He laughed.
‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘I can’t offer you much to eat, but…’ Her gaze took in his dirt-smeared face and hair, and bloodshot and weary eyes. ‘I can offer you a bath.’
‘You can
heat water?’ he said, his eyes lighting up, and she nodded.
‘My dad installed a generator years back. He said he didn’t much care if he couldn’t watch TV when we had a power cut, but he was damned if he was going to sit in the dark, unable to have a bath.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I only have one condition to make.’
Tom grinned. ‘Don’t use all the hot water?’
She smiled. ‘OK, two conditions. Don’t use all the hot water, and…’ Her smile faded. ‘We don’t talk about…about the baby. I know you want to,’ she added quickly, seeing a flash of pain in his eyes, ‘and I know we have to but, please, not tonight.’
He looked at her for a long moment, then smiled slightly crookedly.
‘OK, not tonight,’ he said.
‘How do you feel now?’ Eve asked when Tom joined her some time later in her small sitting room.
‘A lot cleaner, that’s for sure,’ he said. ‘I used some of your shampoo—I hope that was OK. Unfortunately you don’t seem to have a razor so I couldn’t get rid of this,’ he added, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin, ‘which means you’ll have to put up with me looking scruffy.’
Or downright sexy, she thought, and stamped on the thought quickly as she put another log on the fire.
‘Lauren and Chloe organised a clothes and general toiletries collection today for the people who can’t get back into their homes,’ she said. ‘I should have thought to ask them to make up a bag for you, but I’m afraid I forgot you must have lost everything in the Anchor.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said dismissively. ‘I’ve my wallet and my car keys. Everything else can be replaced.’ He looked round awkwardly. ‘Is there anything I can do—something to help?’
Aside from trying not to look quite so big, or so very immediate? she thought, but she didn’t say that.
‘Not really,’ she said instead. ‘I thought I would just heat up some soup, put it into a couple of mugs, and we could have it in here. It’s warmer by the fire than in the kitchen.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ He nodded. ‘Has Rachel Kenner been told about her father?’
‘Nick went to see her this afternoon. As you can imagine…’ Eve shook her head. ‘It wasn’t very pleasant, but Rachel’s aunt and uncle have come over from Plymouth to stay with her. Audrey had no immediate family, but she had a sister who lives in Devon and we’re trying to trace her.’
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