Sunday's Child

by Clare Revell

She held his gaze, her face straight, then she grinned. “Gotcha!”

  “Brat.”

  “Takes one to know one. They did offer to get the baby photos out to show me, but I said next time. I want to see your face when I look at them.”

  He sighed as his pager went off. Disappointment flooded him. “I wanted to ask—”

  “It’ll have to wait until later. Go. Save the world, well whoever is in peril on the sea. I’ll be around for dancing if you’re back in time.”

  “The crew thinks I’m jinxed. They didn’t have a single callout while I was away.”

  “Nah, not jinxed. Just a disaster magnet.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Just whose side are you on, woman?”

  Hattie thought for a moment then laughed. “My own.”

  He stood up. “You promised me an answer to my proposal.”

  “And you’ll get one, when I’ve decided. Now go on now go, walk out the door…”

  “OK,” he grinned “I’m going before you sing anything else at me. But you owe me an answer.”

  She nodded. “And I’ll give you one. On Monday.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He kissed her and ran out of the door.

  17

  Hattie looked out of the car window as Aunt Laurie drove to church on Sunday morning. The forecasted storm had come in stronger and sooner than predicted. The Harbor Authority had taken the unusual step of closing the harbor to all inbound and outbound shipping.

  Aunt Laurie glanced at her. “I’ve never known the harbor closed. Not since the great storm of nineteen eighty-seven. This one could get just as nasty. The Met Office issued a severe weather warning. They say the winds could reach gale force ten if not stronger.”

  “Cal won’t be training in this, surely?”

  Aunt Laurie shook her head. “Not sea training, no. They’ll do first aid or some such thing on the safety of dry land. Mind you, if they get called out they’ll take it on a case by case basis. The inshore boats can take up to a force seven. Over that, it’s up to the helm officer. He and LOM or DLA have the final say as to whether they go or not.”

  During the two hours they were in church, the wind picked up even more. Tree branches and leaves littered the roads. Advertising hoardings blew off buildings and walking upright was impossible. Cal met them at the cottage which was warm and welcoming out of the storm.

  “It’s really bad out there,” he said hanging up his jacket. “The waves are topping fifteen to twenty feet already. They’ve warned shipping to stay away from the coast.”

  “I’m not surprised. Are the bridges closed?”

  “The road bridge is, yes. There isn’t a train due until five o’clock tonight. They’ll make a judgment call then most likely. So we’re effectively sealed off from the outside world right now. Phone lines are down in some parts of the island.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  He smiled. “Sometimes no phones can be a good thing.” He looked at Aunt Laurie. “Something smells good. Can I carve for you?”

  “In about twenty-five minutes once the veggies are done. You two young people go in the other room and talk.”

  Hattie followed Cal into the lounge and sat on the window seat, watching the storm through the window. “So much damage,” she said quietly. “Would you go out in this?”

  “Only if there was no other way,” Cal said. “The Navy would respond as well, but no one would be stupid enough to be out. There was enough warning this time.”

  “What about people being blown off cliffs and piers and so on?”

  He laughed. “Would you be out there?”

  “No, but I’m not some crazy reporter for the TV news.” She winked. “I’m a…Actually what am I? Other than a nothing right now?”

  “Hmmm.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe a Nothing with a capital N.”

  She laughed. “Sounds good to me.”

  He lowered his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was some serious matchmaking going on here.”

  “You mean Aunt Laurie?”

  Cal nodded. “Yeah. Not that I mind your company. Actually I quite enjoy it.”

  “That’s good, because I do, too.”

  “Enjoy your own company?” he teased. “Probably a good thing.”

  “Oy.” She hit him playfully on the arm.

  He laughed and gently tugged her towards him, kissing her cheek. “Behave woman.” He sat next to her on the window seat. “So, when do I get my answer? Did you tell her?”

  “I might have, but she’d have asked you over anyway. She likes having you around.” She snuggled against him. “And stop asking. You said I could have as much time as I wanted and I told you I’d let you know tomorrow. I shall have to call you Mr. Impatient.”

  He clutched her to him as the wind howled through the glass, with a banshee-wail. A roof tile clattered against the pavement before it went flying down the street in several pieces. “Not one of your aunt’s roof tiles, I hope.”

  “Hopefully not, but I know a man who could probably fix it if it was.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah and he’s not too far away either.” She winked. “I hear he’s a dab hand with a hammer and nails.”

  He chuckled. “I’m a carpenter, not a roofer. But yeah, I know a man who can.”

  Aunt Laurie came in and flicked on the radio. “You should listen to this,” she said quietly. “The storm is making the national news.”

  Dinner was eaten in the lounge with the radio still playing. Reports came in from up and down the coast of damage to power cables, phone lines, and some flooding on the other side of the island. Rain pounded the windows, blurring the distant lights of the mainland. They spent the afternoon playing scrabble and Pictionary.

  The lights went out at four and Aunt Laurie lit hurricane lamps and candles. It gave the cottage an almost Christmassy feel to it, with the storm raging outside. All they needed was fairy lights and carols, but there was no electricity to power the lights or the stereo.

  Just before five, Hattie moved closer to the window. She blinked hard, not sure if she was seeing things or not. It looked as if the bridge was moving, but surely that wasn’t possible. “Cal, look at this.”

  He came over to her side. “Look at what?”

  “The rail bridge.”

  “What about it? Is the train trying to cross?”

  “I don’t know about that. The bridge looks as if it’s moving.”

  Cal frowned. “Can’t see from here, as the light isn’t good enough and the rain’s obscuring the glass.”

  Hattie ran to the front door and flung it wide open. She stepped out into the porch, the wind and rain buffeting her instantly. The creaks and groans of the bridge could be clearly heard above the tumult of the storm. Waves crashed against the sides of the ironwork sending spray high into the air.

  Cal pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing fast.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The station master. See if he can stop the train from crossing from the mainland.” He paused. “Answer the phone, will you? Finally. Jake, it’s Cal Trant. Has the 503 left?” He froze. “Seriously? Call him back, the bridge is moving in the wind.”

  Hattie grabbed the binoculars from the shelf by the door. Her uncle had always kept them there and her aunt had never moved them. She scanned the bridge and pointed. “Look, see those lights almost at the far end of the bridge? That has to be the train.”

  “Call him back!” Cal yelled into the phone. “I’m telling you the bridge is moving!” He paced as he spoke. “Then try again.”

  “It’s too late,” Hattie whispered. She pointed to the slow moving lights on the bridge and watched mesmerized. They kept moving until they were half way across, in what the locals termed the high girders. Maybe he’d make it.

  The whole bridge shuddered, visibly moving as a huge wave knocked against it. Metal screeched and twisted with a loud creak, swiftly followed by a noise unlike anything she
’d ever heard before. A long metallic groan, a whoosh of water that shot up almost in slow motion into the sky as the wind howled and moaned.

  As the spray cleared, Hattie’s eyes widened and she rubbed them, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. The central span of the bridge, along with the lights of the train, was gone.

  For a moment Hattie stood there, too shocked to speak or think. Then she looked at Cal. “It’s gone. Cal, the bridge has gone. Where’s the train?”

  “I don’t know.” He reached for the binoculars from her motionless hand and searched. “It’s not there.”

  “Oh no…Oh, Lord, God, please help them…” she whispered.

  Cal reached for his coat. “Dial 9-9-9. I’m going down to the lifeboat station before they page me. Laurie!”

  Aunt Laurie came running out. “What is it?”

  “The bridge has gone. The 503 was on it. I have to go.”

  Hattie grabbed the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. “The line’s dead. I’m coming with you. I’ll call from your mobile on the way.”

  “What can you do?”

  “I don’t know.” She grabbed her coat. “But I can’t sit here and do nothing.” She took the phone from his hand and dialed as they ran to his truck.

  “Operator, which service do you require?”

  “All of them,” she had to yell to make herself heard over the storm. “The Penry Island rail bridge is gone. So’s the train.”

  18

  Huge arc lights cut through the dark, illuminating the bridge with its gaping hole. Naval, coastguard, police and lifeboats navigated huge waves as they searched the water looking for survivors. Hattie stood on the shore, the yellow reflective jacket she’d been given barely keeping her warm.

  She’d made tea and sandwiches for the rescuers and the few survivors they brought ashore. Blue flashing lights from the emergency service vehicles behind her lit the sky as the wind still downed trees and hurled debris around them.

  At two in the morning Cal brought the lifeboat ashore to be refueled. He looked shattered. After speaking to Tom, he came over to find her. “Hey, you slept any?”

  She shook her head. “No. Have you?”

  “I’ve just been ordered to. Blue watch is going out for the next couple of trips, before I take over again. There are still folks out there.”

  “Let the others take over. Four hours sleep or so should help, you look exhausted.”

  “So do you, but yeah, we all are. See you later.” He headed past her into the lifeboat station to find somewhere to lie down. Or at least that’s where she hoped Cal was going. She was tired herself, yes, almost beyond tired, but all she had to do was make tea and coffee, and provide warm blankets and a hug when needed. It wasn’t as if she were out there in the boats doing the bulk of the rescue work.

  She looked around and then headed back inside. She busied herself between working and watching the boats searching under the bridge.

  As the pale light of dawn slowly broke on the horizon, she made her way to the door of the boat house. The local TV crews milled around, mixing with the rescue teams. The storm was starting to die down, meaning help was finally going to reach them from the mainland. In her hand she clutched the first coffee she’d made herself all night.

  It seemed to be more retrieval than rescue. The boats and crews working on recovering bodies, with just body bags coming ashore, with the last survivor having been pulled from the water a good three hours previously. The mood was one of dejection and sorrow, yet they kept working, determined to bring every last passenger back to dry land.

  Cal staggered out from a side room, helmet in his hand.

  She looked at him worriedly. “You still look shattered. Did you sleep any?”

  “Not really. You?”

  She shook her head. “Time for sleep later.”

  He pointed to her cup. “Is that coffee?”

  “Yeah.” She handed it to him and watched as he drained the cup in a few swift gulps. “You look like you needed that.”

  “Yeah, I did.” He handed her the cup back. “Thank you. I should get going.”

  Hattie impulsively gave him a one handed hug. “Be careful out there, Cal. Just because the storm’s easing, doesn’t mean the danger is passed or the waves are any smaller.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I will. And you should get some rest.”

  Aunt Laurie came over to her. “I’ll see she lies down for at least an hour. Now you go and be careful out there. Storms easing, but that doesn’t mean the danger is passed.”

  Cal nodded. “Hattie just told me the exact same thing. Don’t worry. I’ll bring them all back if it’s the last thing I do.”

  ****

  Dawn turned to daylight as Cal docked the boat onto the tractor to refuel. Clouds scurried across a leaden sky as the full extent of the horror began to unfold. A gaping hole sat in the middle of the bridge where the high girders used to be. The roof of one carriage protruded from the water where it had landed on top of another. At least Cal assumed that’s what had happened to it. He prayed it would hold for the few minutes it would take him to get back out there.

  He hadn’t wanted to come back to base at all as his was the only boat that could get close enough to pull the woman off the wreck itself, but the fuel gauge was on empty. He’d promised her that he’d return and he just prayed he’d be in time.

  The wind pushed the water against the bridge, which creaked and moved in the strong gusts. The beach was littered with the remains of personal effects. A forensic crew, covered head to toe in white overalls, slowly moved down the shore, photographing every small piece before collecting it in clear plastic bags.

  Cal stood on the boat, overseeing the refueling. Hattie watched him. He longed to hug her, to assure her he was all right and to make sure she was, but he didn’t have time. Not if he were going to get back out before that carriage finally went under.

  Tom came over. “Cal, we’re standing down. The engineers think more of the bridge is going to fall and want everyone to steer clear until someone’s checked it.”

  Cal shook his head. “The other team heard someone as they got close to the wreck, so I checked it out. She’s in the carriage that’s just above the water line. We’re the only boat that can get in close enough to get to her. I promised we’d go back.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “I’m not leaving her to die, Tom.” He raised his voice. “We delay, or wait until they say it’s safe, and that carriage could go under. It’s my decision. As helm officer I have the right to launch on my say so. I want to go.”

  Tom frowned, and nodded at last. “But I do not agree with this decision and I will note it as such in the log.”

  “That’s fine.” Cal nodded. He glanced at the rest of his crew. Sam, Trevor and Phil met his gaze unwaveringly. “If you guys want to stay here, that’s fine with me.”

  “You need us,” Trevor said.

  “We all go,” Sam echoed.

  “All or none,” Phil agreed.

  “Thank you.” Cal looked at the shore crew. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.” He held his breath as the DODO moved back into the water. He prayed again that they’d find her, and that the carriage would hold long enough for them to pull her to safety. She’d been so scared, of dying, of them not coming back. He had to make it.

  He aimed the boat into the breaking waves, accelerating rapidly. He glanced at Trevor. “Rope up. She might not have the strength to catch the rope herself.”

  “Aye.”

  Cal turned his attention to the controls, steering the boat to where he’d last seen her. Arriving at the carriage there was no sign of the woman. Where had she gone? Had someone else pulled her off? “Tom, has someone else found her?”

  “Negative.” The reply cracked over the radio.

  “Roger that. Going in closer.”

  “Cal, don’t be a—”

  Cal flipped off his radio, leaving the others to communicate back. The waves
grew rougher the closer he got, tossing the boat into the remains of the bridge. The impact threw them all to the floor of the boat. “Everyone all right?” he asked, pushing himself upright.

  “Aye,” came three responses.

  “Found her.” Trevor yelled, diving over the side of the boat at the same time.

  Cal trusted the others to do their job, while he held the boat as steady as he could. They depended on him just as much. The whole point of being a team—four individuals working together as one. He kept praying as they worked. They needed God’s help just as much as they needed each other.

  “Got her,” Phil yelled and tapped him on the shoulder. “She’s alive. Her name’s Ellie.”

  “Thank You, Lord.” Cal turned the boat and headed back to shore. Behind him came a horrendous tearing sound. He glanced over his shoulder to see the train carriage vanish beneath a huge wave. He accelerated, but the edge of the wave picked up the small lifeboat, tossing it under the bridge.

  At that instant, a large piece of metal framework fell, catching the stern of the boat. The boat tipped over backwards, almost in slow motion, tossing them into the icy, tumultuous water.

  Forced under the water by the falling ironwork, Cal struggled to get free. He kicked desperately, pushing side the debris until he broke the surface, his lungs burning. He took large swallows of air, looking around for the others. The lifeboat was nowhere to be seen, presumably somewhere on the bottom of the sea or on its way down.

  Phil and Sam broke the surface beside him. “Cal?”

  “I’m fine. What about you two?”

  They both nodded.

  He looked around, desperately trying to locate the others. “Where’s Trevor? What about Ellie?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Cal dived down searching for them. The water was murky, filled with debris and mud kicked up by the falling ironwork.

  As he surfaced for air, he found himself being hauled aboard a navy RHIB. “I have to find them,” he yelled. “Trevor’s still down there.”

  “We’ll do it. Let’s get you back to shore.”

  “No…” He struggled to get free. “I can’t leave them.”