Her Name Will Be Faith (30 page)

Michael Donnelly junior. Big Mike smiled, recalling
how excited he'd
been when the boy came home
from college to say he'd like to take up
the offer of a place in the firm. Michael Donnelly and Son,
Stockbrokers.
That had been a thrill. And so was the speed with which he
had learned; nobody could have cottoned on to a business faster. Made one feel
quite confident about handing over more and more clients, giving the boy
responsibility. He allowed his eyes to drift to a framed photograph of his son,
the blond giant of the family, skimming up the beach on his wind-surfer,
strong, bronzed, laughing… and totally confident. Christ, he
thought, what would I give to have him here now.
He dropped his lids
over stinging eyeballs.

"Mike, what is it? What's getting at you, lover?"
Babs' hand stroked through his thinning hair.

"Guess I'm feeling
bushwhacked after putting up those shutters. Gotten
myself a bit of a headache."

"Man, it is blowing out
there," Dale announced as he returned,
dripping
wet. "Where are the towels, Babs?"

They called Neal, and were told
everything was all right down there.
"But
say, have you had a weather update?" he asked.

"Who wants a weather update?" Mike asked.
"We can give those guys one ourselves."

"I tried to get one on my portable," Neal
said. "Only heard the end.
Something
about crossing the coast around midnight. Crossing what
coast?"

"Search me," Mike said.
"Must've got their numbers wrong. I'll give
you another shout later." He replaced the handset and gazed at
Lawson. "What coast? There isn't any land out there before Africa."

"Yeah." Lawson was frowning. "You don't
suppose… hi, Dale, when
you were outside just
now, where was the wind coming from?"

"Ah… just north of east, I'd say."

"Oh, Christ!"

"What?" Mike asked.

"When I went out just after supper, it was still
south-east. That means the storm has turned – west! The coast they're
talking about is Eleuthera. It could be coming straight at us."

"What do we do?" Babs
asked, trying to keep the panic out of her
voice.

"We board up that last door," Lawson said.
"Come on, Dale."

They went outside, and Tamsin
raised her head. "Granpa? How will
they
get back inside when they've nailed up the door?"

"Through the garage, my
love." He looked at the women. "Well,
there's damn all we can do now except wait. I suggest we go to
bed."

"I'm all for that." Babs disappeared into
the garage cloaks and reappeared in a very respectable long cotton nightdress.

"I'm staying in this," Belle said; she had
worn a glamorous silk kaftan all evening. "Now, whose bed is which?"

The living area of the house was
a large inverted L. At the top of the
leg was the kitchen, divided from the dining area by an
island of counters,
and
beyond the dining table the heel of the L normally contained a
cocktail table and chairs, and a
collection of shells arranged on shelf units,
whilst the remaining 'foot' held the cane settee,
chairs, tables and a whole
wall of books,
a stereo music center and the television set. The rectangle formed by the two
inner sides was the garage.

That morning, with Melba's help, the television set
and settee and armchairs had been pushed together into the cocktail area to
make room for the beds; first a small one for Tamsin, then a small double for
Babs
and Mike – pulling rank, Belle
called it. She and Lawson shared a single,
while Dale settled himself
quite comfortably on the settee.

"Mike! You haven't put your pyjamas on,"
Babs protested as he made to crawl across her legs.

"You're damned right I haven't," Mike
retorted. "Nobody is going to part me from my pants tonight. Lord knows
what I might have to get up and do in the middle of the night."

That raised some laughter from the
others, but the tension was back
and increased now they realized that they were not going
to escape the
full
force of the storm, after all. The noise was tremendous. Certainly the wind was
maintaining a good 60 miles an hour, with a lot more in
the squalls, while the thunder rumbled constantly and
the sound of the
waves hitting the rocks was
like a pride of lions growling outside the door,
and the rain slashed
against the shutters like machine gun bullets; there was hardly any let up in
the squalls now. And there remained the awful feeling that the worst was yet to
come.

Then the entire house seemed to
shake with a sudden increase in wind.
"Oh, my God!" Babs said, and sat up. But they
were all sitting up,
save for Tamsin, who
had mercifully fallen asleep.

"I'm going to put the kettle on," Belle
announced. "It's nonsense to pretend we're going to sleep. How about some
coffee?"

"Brilliant idea," Babs agreed, also getting
up.

"I'll settle for whisky," Mike said, heading
for the drinks cupboard.

"Pour one for me too, Dad," Lawson said,
watching his wife as she
moved around the
kitchen, his body responding as it always had, ever
since the day he had
first seen her. In the privacy of their own room he
would stand behind her, running his hands over the thin silk of that
kaftan,
feeling the smooth contours of her breasts, arousing her nipples into hard
points. He would help her shed the garment, shed his own, and
stand hard against her, holding her and kissing
her before… instinctively
he crossed his legs and glanced around at the
others, wondering if his
reaction had been
noticed. He sighed. No chance tonight, even if there
was a hurricane.

Belle made coffee, Mike poured
whisky. Everyone was trying to act as
normally
as possible, but now the house was shaking regularly, making them wonder just
how strong it would prove, and every so often there came a crash from outside,
as of something being torn loose.

"Whatever kind of whisky is this, Dad?" Dale
asked. "I never tasted anything like it before."

"Neither have I." Mike
forced a laugh. "But it's half the price of the
Haig down on Palm Island."

"Well, I guess it's good enough to get drunk
on," Lawson said. "But
what the
hell it's going to do to our guts I wouldn't like to say."
They
tried to settle down again; this time Mike switched off all the
lights save for the one in the kitchen; the CB
continued to crackle, and
the fan to
whirr, but he was really very pleased with the way the generator
was
standing up to all its extra work. So maybe it would burn out by morning; he'd
cheerfully buy a new one just to get through tonight.

The house seemed to jump into the
air. At the same time the entire
room filled with brilliant light despite the shutters,
and the accompanying
peal of thunder was
so loud it left them all dazed. Babs inhaled the scent of scorching wood.
"My God!" she shouted. "We're on fire!"

Tamsin screamed.

"We've been hit, that's all," Dale snapped.

Mike was switching on the lights.
"Well, they're still working." He
stared
at the television set, which was cracked and blackened. "Jees! The bolt
must have struck the aerial, even lying down."

"Big Mike, Big Mike," said the CB. "You
guys all right?"

"Sure we are," Mike told him. "You get
hit?"

"No, but it sounded awful close."

"Yeah. We had it come to call. How's Meggie
taking it?"

"I've put her to bed, with Panadol and
whisky."

"Best thing. Keep in touch."

Babs had her arms round Tamsin,
crooning reassuringly, but she
looked at
her husband, eyes wide with terror.

Big Mike looked back, and then
twisted his head. "What the shit is
that?"
he demanded.

They all turned to look at the
door, listening to a different sound to
any
they had ever heard before — except for Lawson.

"Sounds like an express train," Dale
muttered.

"Christ," Lawson said.
For all his studied insouciance, and his previous
experience, his face was pale. "That's the
hurricane wind." He attempted a smile. "I guess Faith has arrived,
folks."

"Christ!" Big Mike
mopped his face with a towel. The noise was continu
ous, whip-like cracks of lightning striking the rocks,
the pounding of the
rain on the shutters and
the roof, the roaring of the seas, and above all
the banshee-like howl
of the wind, all merging into a mind-numbing cacophony. "How long does
this last?"

"Maybe a couple of hours, until the eye passes
through," Lawson told him.

"Well, I think everything's
working like a charm," Belle declared. "We
have electricity, we don't have any water leaking in,
and we've only been struck by lightning once. Who's complaining?"

"Talking about the genny,
it's damn near twelve hours since it's had
oil or water," Lawson remarked. "I guess we'd
better do it now, before
the full force
of the storm arrives, then we're in the clear until well into tomorrow."

"You mean, go out in that?" Dale asked.

"He's right," Big Mike said. "I'll do
it."

"No way," Babs declared. "You seem in a
hurry to collect your insurance?"

"If we don't do it, and she
runs out of lubricating oil, or overheats,"
Mike said patiently, "she'll just stop."

"So let it," Babs said,
refusing to concede that the generator might be
a she. "We have the candles and the lamps."

"Look, lover," Mike
said. "I promised Neal we'd keep in touch, didn't
I? How the hell am I to do that without power?"

"I'll come with you," Lawson volunteered.

"And me," Dale said.
"The three of us can hang on to each other.
Form a kind of chain."

Babs looked at Belle, who
shrugged; she was used to her menfolk being
macho.

"Well, hurry back," Babs said.

"You bet."

The wind was now blowing full
from the northeast, against the garage
doors. One of the glass doors on to the patio, facing
west and thus
sheltered, had however been
left with just boards covering the glass itself
so as to allow an exit away from the wind if necessary, and the three
men
cautiously went outside, Belle
closing and bolting the wooden-shrouded
door behind them.

"Jesus," Lawson
commented, as they pressed themselves against the
wall. The scene in front of them
was dramatic in the extreme. It was
utterly dark, but yet bright as day every few seconds from
the continuous lightning flashes. They looked at the normally calm waters of
the sound, in which there were now six-foot waves, topped with foaming
whitecaps, tumbling over each other as they raced at the curving beach and
pounded
the sand,
surging onwards into the palmettos and casuarinas that lined
the coast. The dock had already
disappeared, although whether it had broken up or was just under water was
impossible to say. But several
trees were
down already. And this was the lee.

Big Mike took a long breath
– there was too much noise to say anything
– and flicked his flashlight on and off to
tell the others he was going round
the house. Clinging to the wall, they edged round the
lounge and kitchen
into
the patio area; here they were still protected by the wall that
connected the two halves of the
house, but from here they had to leave
that
shelter if they were to reach the generator shed.

There were two doors leading out
of the patio, one at each end of the
wall. Mike signaled them to make for the south-facing
exit, as the wind
was
still northeast. This they pulled inwards, and sidled through. Once again it
was necessary to take a long breath before turning the corner of
the wall, into the wind. Mike was
first round, to be seized by a giant
hand, it seemed, and flattened against the wall. The
surprise, as well as
the
force being exerted on his body, caused him to let go of the flashlight,
which fell to the ground,
fortunately without smashing, and was retrieved
by Lawson, on his hands and knees, before it
actually blew away.
Spread-eagled
against the wall while still on his feet, hardly able to breathe
because of the wind tearing at
him, the flailing rain and spray stinging
his face and chest, Mike gazed in horror at the garden,
the uprooted trees, at the generator shed, still a hundred feet away, and then
beyond. Another
hundred
feet across the unmade road the rocks began, and out there was the Atlantic. He
had thought the waves in the sound big. Now he looked
at immense walls of water, twenty,
even thirty feet high, topped by
another six feet of curling crest, smashing themselves
into the rocks with
a
force which seemed to make the entire Point tremble, hurling spray
hundreds of feet into the air.
And already there was water on the road,
flowing
towards the drive and the generator shed.