‘So, Lauren, tell me about the flood.’ Gabriel broke the silence, drawing her from her thoughts. ‘What happened? How much damage has there been? You said Foxy’s owner was tragically killed but was anyone else hurt?’
Lauren huffed out a breath, taking a few moments as she wondered where to begin recounting the events of that never-to-be-forgotten and emotional day.
As Gabriel waited for Lauren to speak, he resisted the fierce urge to keep touching her, remembering how silky her skin had felt beneath his fingers. Instead, he reflected on what he had told her about himself and his reasons for coming to Cornwall, hoping he had said enough to curb her interest without giving away any of his secrets…or his inner turmoil.
It was true that the request from François in January to help out in his clinic on Normandy’s west coast could not have come at a better time. He had been deeply sorry for the injury that had caused François so many problems, but his friend’s need had provided Gabriel with the chance to leave Paris—and Yvette—far behind. Time away to come to terms with all he had suddenly learned about his family, and to put space between himself and home, had been exactly what he had needed. But that space had not proved great enough, so the offer to work in Penhally Bay had been even more welcome. The width of the English Channel would surely be a suitable barrier. Here in Cornwall he felt he could breathe again and hear himself think.
His early departure from France had been sparked by another summons from home—one more demand, one more threat he had chosen to ignore. Things were increasingly strained with his mother. Not that Yvette Devereux had ever been particularly motherly towards him, he reflected with a cynical twist of his lips. She had never been the warm, nurturing and understanding type, but always stiff, distant, with her rigid view of duty and propriety. Now he knew why.
A light touch on his arm startled him from his disturbing thoughts and he glanced up to find Lauren watching him with a frown on her face.
‘Are you all right, Gabriel?’
‘Yes, of course.’ His skin felt warm and alive long after her fingers had been withdrawn. He managed a smile, grateful for the interruption and thankful to push family troubles to the back of his mind again. ‘I was miles away. Please, you were going to explain the events of the last couple of weeks.’
‘You hear about these things happening, but you never expect them to affect your own community,’ she began, a serious tone to her voice. ‘We had no warning. The sky went black, there was thunder and lightning, and the most torrential rain I’ve ever seen or heard. It poured off everything. Combined with the run-off inland, something collapsed upstream and the deluge swelled watercourses, causing a flash flood that swept away everything in its path. The river Lanson burst its banks, funnelling massive amounts of earthy-black water laden with debris down through the centre of Penhally, hitting us full force.’
‘What happened to you?’ Gabriel asked with concern, noting how Lauren shivered, rubbing her forearms in reaction. ‘Were you caught out in it?’
‘I was lucky. I was visiting a patient at the time. The power went out, the telephone lines were down and mobile phone coverage was patchy, but I received a message to go to one of the two evacuation points. I spent the rest of the time at the school, helping out.’ She raised her gaze to his, her eyes registering grief. ‘It was really frightening. People were missing, we didn’t know what had happened to friends. There were a number of minor injuries, some more serious ones…and two people died.’
Gabriel listened to Lauren’s explanation of the disaster with shock. ‘Dieu. I had no idea things were so bad,’ he murmured, taking one of her trembling hands in his, needing to comfort, to touch her. ‘I am so sorry. It must have been horribly traumatic and such a loss for the whole community.’
‘Yes, it was. Is.’ Hearing the waver in her voice, he tightened his hold on her hand, linking their fingers and brushing the pad of his thumb across her wrist. ‘Audrey Baxter was one of our regular patients at the surgery. Elderly and with health problems, she was a bit of a busybody but she meant well. She had recently taken Foxy in as a companion from the rescue centre and having him helped her emotional well-being considerably. They helped each other, I suppose. Anyway, Audrey was caught outside when the flash flood came. She never stood a chance with that wall of water. The local vicar, Reverend Kenner, plunged in to try to save her, but he was lost, too, when the end of the Anchor Hotel collapsed on them. He was such a good man. He did a great deal for this community. And it was tragic for his daughter, Rachel. She’s just a teenager, and with her mother dying a few years ago her father was all she had. They were very close. Now she’s pregnant and alone. Her aunt and uncle in Plymouth are caring for her.’
‘Lauren,’ he murmured, wishing he had the words to ease the pain and horror of what she and the rest of the town had been through.
‘It’s all so unfair!’
‘I know.’ He stroked her arm, aware of the softness of her skin and the beat of her pulse. ‘Sometimes it is impossible to understand why these things happen.’
Her fingers returned the pressure of his and she looked at him with a sorrowful smile. ‘That’s the truth.’ She shook her head, a sigh escaping.
‘Thank goodness you had such excellent rescue aid or things could have been even worse for the town.’
‘Yes, we were very grateful. I think people are finding it hard to accept we’ve been affected like this again. It’s not that long since Penhally’s last great tragedy. The big storm ten years ago took many lives, including those of Kate Althorp’s husband James and Nick Tremayne’s father and brother.’
‘How are people coping now?’ Gabriel asked after a short silence, one that saw them both lost in thought.
‘A lot are still displaced after the flood. The caravan park above the cliffs on Mevagissey Road has taken in several families, while others are staying with relatives and friends or renting temporary accommodation.’
‘It looked as though much has been done to begin clearing up.’
Lauren nodded, her voice stronger again now. ‘Everyone has worked very hard. It’s amazing the mess and damage water can cause. I think it will be months before some of the homes are fit to be lived in again.’
‘Many of your patients must be needing extra care and understanding,’ Gabriel allowed, looking down at their joined hands, thankful that Lauren had not pulled away.
‘Yes, there’s been trauma and anxiety. And it’s hard for some to come to terms with losing irreplaceable and sentimental possessions. We also had to be careful because of things like polluted water and so on as some people failed to heed the safety advice in the aftermath.’
Gabriel watched as she tucked a couple of wayward strands of hair behind her ear. Adjusting his hold on her hand, he played with her fingers and traced a circle on her palm with his thumb, aware of the growing connection between them.
‘So, tell me about your regular patients,’ he suggested after a few moments, relieved to see a lightening of her expression.
He listened with interest as Lauren talked of little Timmy Morrison, nearly five months old and diagnosed at birth with cystic fibrosis, of eleven-year-old Paul Mitchell, coping spiritedly with Duchenne muscular dystrophy, and of older patients like Harry Biscombe in sheltered accommodation at Gow Court, with osteoporosis, whom she had been visiting when the flood had hit, and Stella Chamberlain, currently in the Harbour View Nursing Home with Parkinson’s disease.
‘Stella’s desperate to go home but it’s becoming impossible for her daughter Lizzie to cope. It’s very sad. We’re all doing the best we can to find the best solution for both Stella and Lizzie.’
Every word Lauren spoke, both about the regulars she visited at home and her more