‘Don’t tell me you actually sit down and watch it when it comes on TV?’ He laughed, and saw her jaw set as she picked up her spoon.
‘No. I don’t.’
OK
, he thought. Let’s try something else.
‘Do you remember—?’
‘Stop it, Tom.’
Her large brown eyes were unexpectedly hard, and he gazed at her in confusion. ‘Stop what?’
‘All these reminiscences, this trip down memory lane. We’re not in our twenties any more. We’ve both moved on, we’re different people now.’
‘I don’t think you’ve changed very much from the person I once knew,’ he said with a smile, and she shook her head.
‘You didn’t even know me twenty years ago, Tom, not really.’
‘Of course I did,’ he protested, then glanced over his shoulder to see where their waitress was. ‘Hell, Eve, we were lovers. If anybody knows you, it’s me.’
‘You might have known my body,’ she said quietly. ‘But you didn’t know me.’
‘You’re talking in riddles,’ he replied. ‘Of course I knew you. Just as I also feel…’ He lowered his voice still further. ‘The old attraction between us…It’s still there, isn’t it?’
A peal of thunder had rung out, followed by a jagged fork of lightning, but Eve ignored them both and put down her spoon, cynicism and anger plain in her eyes.
‘What you’re feeling is a desire for the past, Tom,’ she replied, ‘for when your life was simpler. It’s isn’t me you want back. It’s your youth.’
Was she right? he wondered as he stared back at her and un
consciously he shook his head. It was more than that, so much more than that.
‘If you’re saying I want to be young again, then the answer’s no,’ he replied. ‘If I could go back, knowing what I know now, that would be different, but to go back to the thoughtless man I was then…’ He reached out and clasped her hand. ‘All I do know is I never forgot you.’
‘Your never forgetting me didn’t extend to you keeping in touch, did it?’ she exclaimed, pulling her hand free, and he winced at the hardness in her voice. ‘Two postcards, Tom. Two lousy, miserable postcards. One saying you were lonely, the other saying you had applied for a job with Deltaron, and then nothing.’
‘I meant to write,’ he began hesitantly, ‘but the longer I was away, the more—’
‘You forgot about me?’ she finished for him, and he dragged his fingers through his hair.
‘No,’ he protested. ‘I just thought—as the years passed—you’d be bound to be married—have a family.’
‘And now you’ve discovered I’m not, you think it might be nice to try to pick up where you left off,’ she said, her voice brittle. ‘Well, you can forget it, Tom.’
‘Eve—’
‘Something wrong with the soup?’ the waitress interrupted, appearing without warning at their table, and glancing from Eve’s scarcely touched bowl to Tom’s.
‘It’s lovely—perfect,’ Tom said with an effort.
‘Better than the weather.’ The waitress laughed as another peal of thunder rang out and rain began bouncing onto the street outside, filling the drains and gullies so quickly they started to overflow.
‘Eve, I didn’t come back to resurrect the past,’ Tom said the second the waitress had gone. ‘I came back for two reasons. One I can tell you about, the other…’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you that, not just yet.’
‘Then tell me the one reason you can,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest with a look on her face that said all too plainly, you’d better make this good.
‘I came back because…’ He took an uneven breath. ‘I wanted to see if I could still feel anything. Even if all I felt in Penhally was the old resentment, the old hatred, at least it would mean I could still feel
something
.’
Eve gazed at him, open-mouthed. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that.
‘I…I don’t understand,’ she faltered, and Tom pushed his soup away.
‘Eve, during the years I’ve worked for Deltaron, I’ve witnessed the most wonderful—amazing—acts of courage and self-sacrifice. I’ve seen men and women tear at rubble with their bare hands in a desperate attempt to rescue people they’ve never met, but I’ve also seen men and women trample on children—babies—crushing them into the mud, in order to save themselves or to grab a crust of bread.’
‘I suppose disasters always bring out both the best, and the worst, in people,’ she said awkwardly, and his lips twisted into a bitter smile.
‘It also breeds indifference, Eve. I was in New Orleans, and Colombia, and Phuket. Horrendous, all of them, but they got help because they made the headlines, whereas in so many places—too many places—I’ve had to watch people die because the food, and the shelter, and the medicine never came.’
‘Tom—’
‘Jean Paul Sartre, the French philosopher, said Hell was other people. He was wrong, Eve. Hell is people ceasing to care.’
‘But you care,’ she protested, seeing the desolation in his face. ‘You wouldn’t be doing the job you’re doing if you didn’t.’
‘But the trouble is…’ He picked up his spoon and put it down again. ‘I’m ceasing to care. Ceasing to feel anything. So a
hundred people were killed a month ago, a thousand the month before that. Maybe they’re better off dead rather than being rescued by my men simply to survive for another month, or a year, only to be hit by yet another catastrophe, yet another disaster, and lose more loved ones.’
It was so dark outside the café now it could almost have been night, and vaguely Eve was aware of people scurrying past the café window, hurrying to get out of the rain, but what she was most aware of was the bleak, raw despair in Tom’s face. Never had she seen such utter desolation on someone’s face before and, as she stared at him, she suddenly realised she was feeling an emotion she would never have believed she would ever feel for him, and it wasn’t attraction, or anger, or hatred. It was pity.
‘Tom, you can’t—you mustn’t—think like that,’ she said quickly, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
‘So many children orphaned, Eve,’ he murmured. ‘So many babies, sitting in cots all over the world, who are given enough food and water to live on, but no love, no affection, because there’s simply too many of them, and every year their numbers increase.’
‘Tom—’
‘Maybe Nick was right,’ he continued with a shuddering sigh. ‘Maybe my whole working life has been nothing but a series of photo opportunities.’
She caught hold of his hand and held it tightly.
‘Nick was wrong,’ she protested. ‘Your work is vitally important.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he said, with a smile that tore at her heart. ‘Dr Tom Cornish, head of operations for Deltaron, the big cheese, the head honcho, but, when it comes right down to it, you’re the one who’s made something of your life.’
‘But you’ve made a wonderful success of your life,’ she said, even more confused. ‘I’m just a nurse, Tom, whereas you…There are people alive today who wouldn’t be if you hadn’t rescued them.’
‘But at the end of the day, it’s you people remember, isn’t it?’ he said, turning her hand over in his, and staring down at it. ‘You’re that nice, kind, sympathetic nurse at the surgery. The one who holds people’s hands when they’re scared, the one who gives them a cuddle when they need it.’
The misery in his face was palpable and she had to swallow hard before she could answer him.
‘Tom, people remember you,’ she declared, her voice uneven. ‘You’re the man who arrives whenever there’s an emergency, the man who helps. What you do, it’s what you always wanted to do—so how has it all gone wrong? I can see how constantly facing so much death and destruction must wear you down, but what’s happened to make you feel your work—your whole life—has been pointless?’
He didn’t get a chance to reply. Another peal of thunder rumbled overhead, the lights in the café flickered and went out, and the waitress bustled towards them.
‘Thought as much,’ she said with resignation. ‘Sorry, folks, but I’m not going to be able to give you your puddings.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Tom said, getting abruptly to his feet and extracting his wallet. ‘We’ve discovered we’re not very hungry.’
‘I’d get home as quickly as you can if I were you,’ the waitress declared as she took Tom’s money. ‘The Lanson’s running higher than I’ve ever seen it.’ She glanced at Eve’s light jacket, and Tom’s sweater and jeans. ‘You’d better borrow these umbrellas or you’ll both be soaked in seconds.’
The waitress was right, Eve realised when she and Tom left the café. Not only was the rain—if anything—even heavier, the Lanson was now lapping ominously close to the top of its banks.
‘I don’t like this,’ Tom murmured as he stared at it. ‘Look at the colour of the river, Eve. It’s almost black, and can you smell it? That’s earth—lots and lots of earth. We have to get back to the surgery, and phone the emergency services, because I think this means trouble. Big trouble.’
‘The Lanson’s breached its banks before,’ Eve protested. ‘See, people are already putting sandbags round their doors, and boarding up their shop windows. OK, so we’ll probably get an inch or two of water on the pavements, but once this thunderstorm’s over—’
‘Eve, we have to get away from here
now
,’ he interrupted.
He was overreacting, Eve told herself, shivering slightly as more thunder and lightning split the sky. Yes, the river was high—incredibly high—and it smelt and looked odd, but calling the emergency services was far too extreme.
‘Tom—’
He didn’t even acknowledge she had spoken. He was already hustling her down the road, but, just as they reached the bottom of Harbour Road, they both came to a halt as a sound shattered the air. A bomb or a gas explosion, was Eve’s immediate thought, but the sound was immediately followed by a roar. A terrible, screaming roar that made her look over her shoulder and what she saw made her heart stop.
‘Tom.’ She whispered. ‘Oh, my God, Tom,
look
!’
A torrent of water was cascading out of Bridge Street, completely engulfing Harbour Bridge. Engulfing it in a raging, nine-foot-high torrent of black water in which dustbins were being tossed like toys before being spat out into the harbour, and when Tom grabbed her hand she didn’t hesitate for a second. She began to run.
‘H
AS
a gas main exploded?’ Hazel, the practice manager, exclaimed, her face white with shock, as Tom and Eve raced into the surgery. ‘I heard this awful sound, then our landline went dead, and I’ve been trying to get the police on my mobile—’
‘Where’s Nick?’ Tom demanded, cutting right across the practice manager without compunction.
‘He’s not here,’ Hazel replied. ‘Kate rang about fifteen minutes ago, saying she wasn’t happy about Stephanie Richards, so he went to help her.’
‘Who’s Stephanie Richards?’ Tom asked, looking from Eve to Hazel, but it was Eve who answered.
‘Mum-to-be, due date the 20th of this month. Her boyfriend walked out on her when he discovered she was pregnant, and she’s not had an easy pregnancy. She…’ Eve swallowed convulsively. ‘Tom…She lives in Bridge Street.’
‘Not the best place to be at the moment,’ Tom said evenly, and Eve let out a cry that was halfway between a sob and a laugh.
‘Not the best place?’
she repeated. ‘Tom, you saw that water—’
‘What the hell was that noise?’ Oliver interrupted as he came running out of his consulting room. ‘I was ploughing through my paperwork, listening to the rain bouncing off the roof, then it sounded as though a bomb had gone off.’
‘The river Lanson’s broken its banks,’ Tom declared, ‘and, at a rough guess, I’d say it’s running nine feet higher than it should be.’
‘Nine
feet
?’
‘Oliver, it was awful—truly awful!’ Eve exclaimed, as the young doctor stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘One minute the Harbour Bridge was there, and the next…’
‘You mean, the bridge has collapsed?’ Oliver gasped, and Eve shook her head helplessly.
‘I don’t know. It might still be there, under the water, but…’ She clasped her hands together to try to stop them shaking. ‘Tom—Kate and Nick, and the people who live in Gull Close and Bridge Street like Gertrude Stanbury, Audrey Baxter—we have to help them. That water…’
‘I know,’ Tom said, his gaze steady, his voice calm, ‘but we both also know we haven’t a hope in hell of getting up either of those streets. Hazel, phone Nick on his mobile—’
‘I can’t, Tom,’ the practice manager interrupted. ‘Bridge Street, Gull Close and Penhally Heights—they’re all blind spots as far as mobiles are concerned. I could try reaching them by radio, but if they’ve left their handsets in their cars…’
‘We’d be better off using smoke signals,’ Tom finished for her grimly. ‘OK, Oliver, as Nick isn’t here, you’re in charge.’
‘No,’ the young doctor declared immediately. ‘Absolutely not. Hell, Tom, you’re head of operations at Deltaron. If anyone has the expertise for a situation like this, it’s you.’
That Tom didn’t want to be in charge was plain. A shadow had crossed his face, making him look, Eve thought, suddenly every one of his forty-four years, but Oliver was right. Only Tom had experience of dealing with this sort of situation, and whatever had happened to him, whatever he had witnessed that had made him feel he had wasted his life, it didn’t alter the fact that they needed him.
‘Tom?’ Eve said hesitantly, and saw a small muscle clench in his cheek, then he nodded.
‘All right, but one thing has to be understood,’ he said. ‘If I’m in charge then whatever I decide we go with, no argument, no discussion. Even if you don’t like my decision—feel it’s the wrong one—my decision stands.’
‘I hardly think any of us are going to query your judgment,’ Oliver said, and when Eve and Hazel nodded their agreement, Tom’s lips curved slightly.
‘I’ll remind you of that later,’ he said, then turned to Hazel. ‘Phone the coastguard, the fire brigade, and keep phoning the police. Tell them the Lanson’s broken its banks, and we need help now.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s just after two o’clock, which means the kids will still be in school. Oliver, phone both the primary and secondary schools, tell them not to let any of the children go home. Eve, I need a map of the village—the more detailed the better.’
Eve scarcely heard him. Try as she may, she couldn’t forget the wall of surging, churning water, and when she thought of Audrey, and Gertrude, the people who might have been walking down those two streets…And Tassie. Her heart clutched and twisted inside her. Tassie was always calling in on Gertrude to borrow books. What if she was there, in Gull Close, trapped?
She won’t be, her mind insisted. It’s a school day, so Tassie will be in school, safe, and, as she felt a surge of relief course through her, she dug her fingernails deep into the palms of her hands, hating herself for feeling such relief when so many others were in danger.
‘Eve, we can stand here worrying, or we can do something, and right now I need that map.’
She looked up to find Tom’s gaze on her, and though there was understanding in his green eyes, there was impatience in them, too, and with an effort she straightened her shoulders.
‘There’s an aerial photograph of Penhally in the waiting room,’ she said. ‘Would that be any use?’
‘Perfect,’ Tom replied. ‘Absolutely perfect.’
‘Tom, how can this have happened?’ she said as she followed him into the waiting room. ‘We’ve had violent thunderstorms before, but never anything like this.’
‘My guess is the thunderstorm earlier this morning caused something to collapse further up the hill, forming a dam,’ Tom replied as he took the photograph off the wall. ‘Then, when we had the second thunderstorm, the sound we heard was the dam breaking. I can’t think of anything else which would cause such a volume of water to travel down at such speed.’
‘Schools alerted,’ Oliver announced when Tom and Eve returned to Reception, ‘and I’ve phoned St Piran Hospital, warned them to be on standby for possible casualties.’
‘The firemen are on their way,’ Hazel chipped in, ‘but whether they’ll be able to get here is another matter. Roads seem to be flooded everywhere. The coastguard have scrambled their helicopter, and the Royal Navy are sending three more.’
‘What about the police?’ Tom demanded, and Hazel shook her head.
‘All of their mobile phone numbers seemed to be permanently engaged. Not surprising, really, under the circumstances.’
‘Keep phoning them,’ Tom said. ‘They need to start evacuating people in case that water spreads, and we have to find somewhere safer, too.’
‘But surely we’re safe here?’ Eve protested. ‘The water was racing straight out of Bridge Street into the harbour.’
‘We need to be higher, much higher,’ Tom insisted. ‘Do either of the schools have a generator?’
‘The high school does,’ Hazel replied.
‘Then the high school would be the best place for us to relocate to, and it would also be perfect for the villagers living
on the west side of the Lanson to assemble,’ Tom observed. ‘For the people who live east of the river…’ He squinted at the aerial photograph. ‘The Smugglers’ is the highest, and there’s also fields behind it where a helicopter could land. Would there be anybody at the inn at this time of day?’
‘Tony—the owner,’ Eve replied. ‘He’s always there, and I know he’d be more than willing to help, but won’t we need a medic on site in case someone comes in injured?’
‘Dragan,’ Tom said. ‘He was going out on home visits today, wasn’t he, so where’s he likely to be?’
Eve picked up the home-visits notebook, and scanned it quickly.
‘At a guess, I’d say he should have reached Mrs Young at Penhally Heights by now.’
‘Excellent.’ Tom nodded. ‘Oliver…’ The young doctor wasn’t listening. He was punching numbers into his mobile phone, and with a flash of irritation Tom turned to Hazel. ‘Phone Tony at The Smugglers’, explain the situation, and then see if you get Dragan. If you do, tell him not to attempt to come back into the town, but to head for The Smugglers’. Where’s your physio? Laurie—’
‘Lauren,’ Eve corrected him. ‘She said she was dropping in on Mrs Chamberlain at Harbour View, then going on to Gow Court.’
‘Where’s Gow Court on this photograph?’ Tom asked, and Eve pointed to it.
‘It’s a newly built sheltered housing complex, in this small cul-de-sac running off from Trelawney Rise.’
‘Which means, if Lauren’s already left the nursing home, and is on her way to Gow Court,’ Tom murmured, ‘she’ll either be driving down Penhally View, then into Polkerris Road, and on to Gow Court, or…’
‘She could have taken the quicker route down Bridge Street,’ Eve said.
Tom’s eyes met hers, blank, unreadable.
‘Then let’s hope she’s taken the scenic route,’ he said evenly. ‘Hazel—’
‘Chloe’s not answering, Eve,’ Oliver exclaimed in frustration. ‘I’ve rung her over and over, and she’s not picking up the phone.’
‘Maybe she’s asleep,’ Eve declared, seeing the worry on the young doctor’s face. ‘Maybe she had to go out,’ she continued, only to realise too late that this hadn’t been the wisest wise thing to say. ‘I mean—’
‘I’ve left a message on Dragan’s mobile, telling him to make for The Smugglers’,’ Hazel interrupted. ‘I’ve also got Chief Constable D’Ancey on my mobile. Do you want me to tell him we’ve agreed on two places of safety—the high school and The Smugglers’?’
Tom nodded, and turned back to Eve. ‘Does Gow Court have wardens as it’s a sheltered housing complex?’
‘Carol and Florry Ford,’ Eve replied.
‘Phone them. If Lauren’s there, tell her to make straight for the school hall.’
Eve didn’t say,
But what if she isn’t there?
But Tom must have realised she was thinking it, because as she picked up her mobile he smiled encouragingly at her.
‘One step at a time, Eve,’ he said, and she managed to smile back, but she felt less like smiling when she couldn’t get a reply from Gow Court, and her smile disappeared completely when the lights in the surgery began to flicker.
‘I’m surprised that hasn’t happened before,’ Hazel observed. ‘Our emergency generator will kick in but…’
‘It’s time for us to move,’ Tom finished for her. ‘Where’s your radio equipment?’ he continued, and when Eve led him through to the back of Hazel’s office to show him, he let out a low whistle. ‘I’ll say one thing for Nick, he hasn’t stinted on anything. OK, we need to take this, and every piece of movable
medical equipment we think we might need up to the school hall. Where’s Oliver?’
As though on cue, the young doctor appeared behind them, his face white with worry.
‘Chloe’s still not answering,’ he said. ‘Where is she—
where the hell is she
?’
‘Oliver, you have my permission to keep phoning your fiancée,’ Tom exclaimed, not bothering to hide his irritation, ‘but can you do it while you’re also carrying some medical equipment out to your car?’
Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it again, and grimly picked up two of their portable defibrillators and disappeared with them.
‘Tom, he’s worried about Chloe,’ Eve said awkwardly. ‘He loves her.’
‘And as far as we know she’s safe, whereas a lot of people in Penhally aren’t,’ Tom retorted, ‘so can we start moving things to the hall, or are we going to wait until the Lanson is lapping round our ankles?’
He was right, Eve knew he was. Speed was of the essence, but she wished he’d been a little kinder, a little gentler, with Oliver. She would have been frantic, too, if she’d been in the young doctor’s shoes, and it didn’t surprise her when she saw Oliver constantly checking his phone as they moved their portable medical equipment out to their cars, and he was still attempting to contact Chloe when they were carrying it through the rain and into the school.
‘She said she was going to spend the whole afternoon at home, Eve,’ Oliver muttered when they began setting up the radio equipment in the small office leading off from the school hall. ‘You heard her. That’s where she said she would be, so
why
isn’t she answering the phone?’
Eve wished she knew. She wished, even more, that she could find some words of comfort to give to the young man, but she
couldn’t think of anything to say apart from,
She’ll be all right
, and there was no point in saying that. Oliver would quite rightly turn round and demand to know how the hell she knew, so she simply squeezed his arm, and tried to look as reassuring as she could as they finished connecting all the radio equipment.
‘OK, this radio must never be left unattended,’ Tom declared when he joined them. ‘When our mobile batteries run out—as they assuredly will—it’s going to be our only means of contacting the outside world. We’ll take it in rotas, but somebody needs to be by the radio at all times.’
‘I’ll take the first shift,’ Eve said quickly. ‘I mean, I haven’t exactly been of much use up until now,’ she added as Hazel hurried off in answer to Oliver’s beckoning wave, ‘so can I take the first shift on the radio?’
‘Of course you can,’ Tom said, ‘but what do you mean, you haven’t been much use?’
Eve shrugged helplessly.
‘Hazel…She’s been so efficient, on the ball, and I…I just keep seeing that wall of water, thinking if anyone was walking down Bridge Street, or Gull Close, when the dam broke…’
‘Considering how heavy the rain was beforehand, I should imagine most people would have hurried indoors, don’t you?’ he said, and she forced a smile.
‘I suppose so,’ she said, then bit her lip. ‘How do you do it—manage to stay so calm?’
‘Because it’s my job,’ he answered simply. ‘Running around like a headless chicken isn’t going to get me anywhere.’
‘No,’ she muttered. ‘Sorry. Memo to self. Stop behaving like a headless chicken. It’s just…’ She shivered involuntarily as the sky outside the office window lit up with lightning. ‘I’m so cold, Tom. I don’t know why, but I’m so cold, and I can’t seem to get warm.’
He walked towards her, and before she knew what was happening he had wrapped his arms around her.
‘Shock,’ he said. ‘What you’re suffering from is shock.’
‘Is that a professional diagnosis, Dr Cornish?’ she said, resting her forehead on his chest, and holding onto him because he felt warm and solid, and so very good.
‘Absolutely,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Are your feet dry?’
She jerked her head up to look at him. ‘What?’
‘Wet feet make you feel cold, and cold hands made you feel downright miserable.’