Her Name Will Be Faith (26 page)

"That won't be necessary,
boy," his father-in-law assured him. "We
are all going to the airport in the morning. We won't
need a reservation."

"Suppose there are no seats?" Dale inquired.

"Look, the people who get out of here are going
to be the ones at the airport, ready to board, not the ones sitting at home
relying on a reservation. Right?"

Belle looked at Tamsin, sitting by herself, eyes big
as saucers as she
watched the adults.
"Come on, honey," she said. "Supper for you, and
bed."

She fed the little girl and then walked her across the
patio; she was
thoroughly enjoying playing
Mom for the first time in her life.

"Aunt Belle, why can't we stay and see the
hurricane?"

"Because, honey, it won't be very nice."

"Why? I'd love to stay and watch it."

"You wouldn't be able to see anything. The
windows will be shuttered and the house all dark inside, even in the daytime.
It'll be very boring." "We could go outside and watch," Tamsin
suggested.

"Honey, you'd be blown
away! You can't imagine how strong the wind will be." She drew a
floral-printed sheet loosely over the child. "Now you
get some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep. I want to stay
here."

"So do I, honey. But we
can't." She kissed her, and felt a thrill of
pleasure as the girl's arm slid round her neck.

"I love you, Aunt Belle."

"I love you too," Belle said, and switched
off the light.

After supper was cleared and the dishes washed up,
Dale suggested they
should all play Trivial
Pursuit, but Big Mike wouldn't hear of it. "For
God's sake, don't
you realize we have a hurricane coming straight at us?
Come on, get with it. Help your mother pack up all the food; we can't
just leave it in the freezer: the electricity
will be the first to go. Belle, why
don't you make some sandwiches for tomorrow:
it'll probably be lunch time before we take off."

"Michael Donnelly!" Babs remonstrated,
"You are going to give yourself a heart attack. That storm can't be here
until the day after tomorrow. It could veer off in any direction by then."

"It could," Big Mike
agreed. "But if we wait to see if it does, lover,
and it doesn't, we're in the shit."

Babs sighed; she could see that he was really worried.
"Okay, okay. Let's get cracking, you guys."

Everyone started doing something, half-heartedly.
Mike's fear was
communicating itself. This
was obviously something far more serious
than the storm of three years
before. But a full hurricane? Those were things you only read about in the
overseas news. Belle finished making
the
sandwiches, then went outside to put the crusts in the trash can, found
her
husband standing behind her. "It's such a brilliant moonlight night,"
she said, watching the light streaming
across the water. "And there's not
a breath of wind."

"That's a bad sign,"
Lawson told her. "It means Faith is coming
closer, and even if she only sideswipes us, we're going to know all
about it, even home in Nassau."

She turned, into his arms.
"Can it harm us, Lawson? The property?
The
deal?"

“A 100 mile an hour breeze? No chance.” He grinned.
“Not permanently. It may blow one or two things down, but we can always put
them back up again.”

“Lawson,” she said, nestling against him. “How about
starting a family?”

“You kidding?”

“I’m only thirty-three.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Wouldn’t you like to be a daddy?”

Lawson realized she was serious, kissed the top of her
head. “If you’re going to be the mummy, sure. Come to think of it, there’s not
a hell of a lot else to do, during a hurricane.”

Just before dawn Belle was awakened by a rainsquall,
which blew in the mosquito screen. She reached for a light, but the power was
off. Lawson was still snoring contentedly, so she got up herself to close the
window,
grazed her foot on the sharp corner
of the screen, and swore. But she soon
fell asleep again when she
regained the bed.

When she awoke again, to broad daylight, rain was
thrumming on the roof.

Melba and Josh arrived at seven
with their nephew, Goodson. Josh
touched
his baseball cap which proclaimed: 'It's better in the Ba
hamas'. "I brung me nephew like I said,
borse, to help wit' de shutters.
We soon get um fix. Den, if it's okay
wit' you, borse, we likum get home
again,
quick. Got some tyin' down and t'ings to do before de storm
hit."

Big Mike, towering over him, clapped him on the
shoulder. "Josh! Am
I glad to see you.
And Goodson. Sure we'll all work on the shutters
together and then of
course you must get home. Perhaps you could lift
some of us to the airport on your way; we can't all fit into my car,
together
with the bags."

Josh frowned. "You leavin', borse? You t'ink dere
goin' be planes?"

Goodson said nothing, just shook his head.

"There have to be planes," Mike insisted.
"What about the two which
stay overnight
and fly out about 10.30 in the morning? If we hurry we
can catch those,
can't we?" His tone was suddenly anxious.

"Not today, borse. Dey done gorn. Flew out las'
night. De wife's niece, she de agent. She tol' us dey done gorn."

"Holy… !" Mike bit off
the word; Babs didn't like him to swear in
front
of the servants.

But Babs, having appeared in a dressing gown, was just
as alarmed. "But surely you're expecting them back?" Her eyes were
wide.

"Couldn't say about dat, ma’am. You could ask de
wife to see if she can raise dat girl on the CB."

"The electrics are still
out," Mike growled. "Josh, run down to the
shed and start the generator. Christ, if we had gone
down to the airport
yesterday afternoon
instead of trying to call them, we could've caught
those damned
planes."

"Beggin' yo' pardon,
borse," Josh put in. "But them planes was all
full. People was lef' standin'.
Frien' o' mine is one of de taxi drivers. He
tell me las' night dere was quite a fight out
dere, people pushin' and
shovin'. Seems agents in de States done sold two tickets for each
seat."

Blood drained from Big Mike's face. He stood,
shoulders hunched, in the shelter of the porch as wind and rain scattered
casuarina needles and
bits of palm frond
across the patio, opening and shutting his mouth as
he fought to control both his anger and his fear.
"Get those electrics
going," he told Josh again. "Babs,
as soon as we've power you go see if
you can
get any sense out of that girl at the airport. The rest of us had
better
get started on these shutters."

"What about Neal and Meg? We told them we were
leaving at 8.30. Meg'll have hysterics if we don't go."

The thought of Meg having
hysterics could always bring a grin to
Mike's
face. "So we won't tell her, until 8.30. Lawson! Dale! Come on, you guys,
let's go."

Heads down against the weather,
they hurried behind Josh to the
generator shed, while Belle, followed around the house
by Tamsin, began
making breakfast.

Babs knew Melba was more likely
to get some sense out of a Bahamian
than she, so she got the cook to use the CB. "It
early, ma'am," Melba
pointed out.

"But she should be there, shouldn't she?"

"I don' t'ink so," Melba
said. "Not today. But she got CB at home. I
goin' try she dere." She called, over and over again, until at
last a sleepy
voice answered.
"Ooh!" Melba shouted. "Is dat you, Chris'abel?" Her
voice shrieked above the crackling and opposing
traffic on the air, and
the banging of the hammers nearer at hand as the
shutters went up.

"Yeah," a young female voice replied.

"You got any flights today?"

"Ah dunno."

"Di'n' dey tell you?"

"What?"

"Ah said, di'n' dey tell you
if dey was comin' back?" Melba shouted
even
louder.

"Dey di'n' say not'ing."

Babs flushed with exasperation.
"How soon can she find out if they are
coming, and when?" she asked. "Can't she
telephone Miami?"

"She ain't got no phone," Melba explained.

"But she can call from the post office,
surely," Babs said. "It can't be
far.”

"Is a fac' is jus' across de
street," Melba agreed. "Hey, Chris'abel,"
she bawled into the microphone. "You still
dere?"

"Yeah."

"How you goin' know if dey
comin'? De borse heah askin' why you
don't
phone?"

"Dey don' like me phonin', lessen I got
seats."

"Tell her she has
seats," Babs hissed. "Seven seats. For God's sake,
we'll charter the whole plane."

"Hey, Chris'abel, I got a
charter for you heah. You can call and tell
'em
so?"

"I could try," Christabel volunteered.
"But I ain' know iffen dey goin' come back today. You all ain' heah dey
got storm comin'?"

"Oh, God," Babs moaned. "That's why we
want to leave."

Melba looked at her sympathetically, then turned back
to the radio.
"Chris'abel, you listen
to me good. You call Miami and tell dem dese
folks goin' charter. You do
that."

"Okay. I goin' do dat."

"Will she let us know?" Babs asked.
"How soon?"

"When you goin' know about dis t'ing,
Chris'abel?"

"Ah dunno. Maybe one hour."

"Okay," Babs said. "One hour. And
she'll call us right away."

"You do dat right away now,
Chris'abel," Melba commanded her niece.

"Shuah t'ing. But I ain'
t'ink dey comin' back. Not today."

"Just try," Babs begged.

"An' you call us heah and tell us what dey
say," Melba said.

"Yeah," Christabel agreed.

Babs sighed, her face long and
drawn, and returned to the lounge. Mike
saw
her through an as yet unshuttered window. "Well?" he demanded. Babs
related what she could recall of the conversation.

"Jesus Christ!" Mike exploded. "Not
coming back? Not even for a charter? What the hell is going on? They can't just
maroon us."

"Well, maybe we should go out to the airport
anyway, just in case a plane does come in."

"Beggin' yo' pardon, ma’am, but if it was me ah
woul'n't go wastin' my time out dere. Better spend de time preparin'." And
seeing their horrified
expressions, Melba
put a comforting hand on Babs' arm. "Is all righty,
all righty. We all sat out dem Betsy and David.
Few trees down an' a bit
o' floodin',
but dem hurricane's no big deal. No cause'n for gettin' a
stroke
worryin'. You all got good shutters. Jus' be sure you got plenny food, water
and candles, an’ oil for de hurricane lamps. Dat all yo' want. Better someone
go drive down de shore to Whaletown and get supplied. Tin stuff, 'cause de
fridge'll go wid de electrics."

"I don't believe this,"
Big Mike fumed. "We are just going to be
abandoned on this fucking sandbank..."

"But can't we keep the
generator on?" Babs' mind was on the food in
the freezer.

"Sure t'ing, ma’am, but ev'ry once in a while it
got to have oil and water, and yo' tank don' hold too much fuel. Den yo' cable
from de shed to de
house does be overhead;
wind or limb off a tree can bring it down.
Anyway, dat generator ain'
too big. Yo got de fresh water pump for de
toilets,
de water heater, lights, freezer, fridge… it goin' burn up before
it
take care o' dem all one time."

Lawson and Belle joined the discussion. "She's
right," Lawson said.
"It'd be
better not to turn the thing on except for emergency light
ing."

"Maybe we should see if the power is back on and
give it a rest right away," Belle suggested.

"Thank God we cook with gas," Babs said.
"It's to be hoped there's plenty in the cylinder."

"Dolphin Poin', Dolphin Poin'," said the CB.

Melba hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed the
mike. "Dat you, Chris'abel?"

"Yeah."

"You got t'rough already?"

"Naw."