him, stunned to stupefaction. She didn’t want him to see. She didn’t want anyone to see.
‘I won’t hurt you, Ginny,’ Ben said gently, and he touched her face again. ‘How can you think I will?’
She shook her head. This was crazy. There was no way she was answering that, here, now, or at any time.
She’d made a vow. Life on her terms, now and for ever.
As long as this shaking world permitted.
‘Of course I’ll help at the hospital,’ she said, far too quickly.
‘Good,’ he said, and moved his field glasses on. But she knew he wouldn’t be deflected. He knew her, this man, like no other person had ever known her—and the thought was terrifying.
She went back to hugging Button. Apart from the siren, it was incredibly peaceful. It was a gorgeous autumn afternoon. The sun was sinking low on the horizon and the grass underfoot was lush and green.
But there were cattle in the paddocks, and every beast had its head up. Because of the siren?
Um...no. Because the earth had just shifted and neither man nor beast knew what would happen next.
And then the siren stopped.
Ben’s field glasses swung around until he found what he was looking for.
‘We send the siren out from four points of the island,’ he said slowly, thinking it through as he spoke. ‘The sirens are set off from the seismology centre on the mainland. They’re supposedly quake-proof and they get their signal via satellite. If they’ve stopped we can assume that boffins somewhere have decided there will be no tsunami. Thank God.’
‘Thank God,’ she repeated, and once again she got an odd look, the knowledge that he saw more than she wanted him to see. Earthquake or not, she knew now that there was a world of stuff between them, and she also knew it was stuff he’d hunt down until it was in the open.
‘It’s okay, Ginny,’ he said gently. ‘We can work side by side, I promise. This is professional only. We treat it as such. We go see what the damage is and how best we can start putting things back together again. And we put everything else aside until later.’
CHAPTER SIX
O N TOP OF everything else, she was fearful for her farm manager. Henry now lived on the headland beyond the vineyard, on his own.
‘His place is so remote. Ben, we need to check...’
‘We can’t,’ he said, as gently as he could manage. ‘Henry’s four miles that way overland, the coast road’ll be cut and we’ll have casualties coming into the hospital now. Ginny, I’m sorry, but triage says hospital first. We have to get to town.’
She knew he was right but it didn’t make her feel better. Her car was a sedan, not capable of going cross-country. Ben’s Jeep was their only mode of transport. They needed to travel together and there was only one direction they could head.
Henry was on his own and it made her feel ill. How many islanders were on their own?
They headed down the valley. It sounded simple. It wasn’t.
Driving itself was straightforward enough. Ben had wire cutters in the Jeep, so if they came to a troublesome fence they simply cut the wires. The ground was scattered with newly torn furrows where the earth had been torn apart, but the Jeep was sturdy and Ben was competent.
Ginny thought they’d get back to the hospital fast, and then they crossed the next ridge and her nearest neighbours came into view. Caroline and Harold Barton. Caroline was sitting by a pile of rubble—a collapsed chimney—and she was sobbing.
‘He went back in to try and get the cat,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t get the bricks off him. And the crazy thing is...’ she motioned to a large ginger tom sunning himself obliviously on a pile of scattered firewood ‘...Hoover’s fine. Oh, Harold...’
There was a moan from underneath the bricks and then an oath.
‘Would you like to stop reporting on the bloody cat and get these bricks off me?’ Harold’s voice was healthily furious.
Ben lifted Button from the Jeep and handed her over to the
‘I won’t hurt you, Ginny,’ Ben said gently, and he touched her face again. ‘How can you think I will?’
She shook her head. This was crazy. There was no way she was answering that, here, now, or at any time.
She’d made a vow. Life on her terms, now and for ever.
As long as this shaking world permitted.
‘Of course I’ll help at the hospital,’ she said, far too quickly.
‘Good,’ he said, and moved his field glasses on. But she knew he wouldn’t be deflected. He knew her, this man, like no other person had ever known her—and the thought was terrifying.
She went back to hugging Button. Apart from the siren, it was incredibly peaceful. It was a gorgeous autumn afternoon. The sun was sinking low on the horizon and the grass underfoot was lush and green.
But there were cattle in the paddocks, and every beast had its head up. Because of the siren?
Um...no. Because the earth had just shifted and neither man nor beast knew what would happen next.
And then the siren stopped.
Ben’s field glasses swung around until he found what he was looking for.
‘We send the siren out from four points of the island,’ he said slowly, thinking it through as he spoke. ‘The sirens are set off from the seismology centre on the mainland. They’re supposedly quake-proof and they get their signal via satellite. If they’ve stopped we can assume that boffins somewhere have decided there will be no tsunami. Thank God.’
‘Thank God,’ she repeated, and once again she got an odd look, the knowledge that he saw more than she wanted him to see. Earthquake or not, she knew now that there was a world of stuff between them, and she also knew it was stuff he’d hunt down until it was in the open.
‘It’s okay, Ginny,’ he said gently. ‘We can work side by side, I promise. This is professional only. We treat it as such. We go see what the damage is and how best we can start putting things back together again. And we put everything else aside until later.’
CHAPTER SIX
O N TOP OF everything else, she was fearful for her farm manager. Henry now lived on the headland beyond the vineyard, on his own.
‘His place is so remote. Ben, we need to check...’
‘We can’t,’ he said, as gently as he could manage. ‘Henry’s four miles that way overland, the coast road’ll be cut and we’ll have casualties coming into the hospital now. Ginny, I’m sorry, but triage says hospital first. We have to get to town.’
She knew he was right but it didn’t make her feel better. Her car was a sedan, not capable of going cross-country. Ben’s Jeep was their only mode of transport. They needed to travel together and there was only one direction they could head.
Henry was on his own and it made her feel ill. How many islanders were on their own?
They headed down the valley. It sounded simple. It wasn’t.
Driving itself was straightforward enough. Ben had wire cutters in the Jeep, so if they came to a troublesome fence they simply cut the wires. The ground was scattered with newly torn furrows where the earth had been torn apart, but the Jeep was sturdy and Ben was competent.
Ginny thought they’d get back to the hospital fast, and then they crossed the next ridge and her nearest neighbours came into view. Caroline and Harold Barton. Caroline was sitting by a pile of rubble—a collapsed chimney—and she was sobbing.
‘He went back in to try and get the cat,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t get the bricks off him. And the crazy thing is...’ she motioned to a large ginger tom sunning himself obliviously on a pile of scattered firewood ‘...Hoover’s fine. Oh, Harold...’
There was a moan from underneath the bricks and then an oath.
‘Would you like to stop reporting on the bloody cat and get these bricks off me?’ Harold’s voice was healthily furious.
Ben lifted Button from the Jeep and handed her over to the
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