Her Name Will Be Faith

by Christopher Nicole

  “Lawson!” his wife said.

  “We’ll talk to Babs about it.” Big Mike grinned. “I just gotta hear what Meg has to say.”

  12.00 noon

  “A hurricane!” Meg Robson screamed. “Oh, my God! This is it. Absolutely it. Why we ever bought this place I can’t imagine. I told you it was a stupid thing to do, Neal. I told you.”

  “Now, Meg…” Neal said unhappily.

  “I want to go home. I want to go home, now!”

  “Well, you can’t, now,” Lawson pointed out. “There won’t be any planes out of North Eleuthera until tomorrow, now.”

  “And anyway, we have to shutter the place up,” Neal told her. “We can’t just walk away from it. Mike, I don’t suppose you guys would give us a hand?”

  “Sure we will,” Mike said. “We have to shutter this place up too. In fact, I’ll get Josh on to it now, before he goes home.” The servants generally left right after lunch. “Josh!” he bawled. “Josh!”

  “Heah I is, borse.” Josh appeared from the garden.

  “You heard about this storm down in Haiti?”

  “I did heah somet’ing, borse.”

  “You reckon it’s gonna come up here?”

  Josh looked at the sky; it was a perfect blue, marred only by fine weather clouds… but there were cirrus streaks high up, indicating wind not too far off. “Could be, borse. Is the time of yeah.”

  “Yeah? Well, I tell you what, you go on down to the generator shed and bring those storm shutters up.”

  “Now, borse?”

  “Right now,” Mike said.

  Josh ambled off, somewhat disconsolately.

  “Now I tell you what we’re gonna do,” Mike announced, signaling Dale to mix up another batch of rum punch. “We are going to have another drink… you too, Meggie, and then we are going to have lunch, and then we are going to put up the shutters, and then we are going to listen to the six o’clock forecast, and then we are going to make a decision on what we are doing next. We’d look a right load of billygoats if we went chasing back up home to get away from a storm which wasn’t even gonna come near us, right? Tonight is time. I told Jo I’d call her back tomorrow and tell her what we were doing.”

  They gazed at him, and Babs squeezed his hand; she loved it when Big Mike was being masterful. “I think that’s absolutely right, sweetheart.”

  Josh was back on the edge of the patio. “Borse, dem shutters ain’ no good.”

  “What? Holy shit, what do you mean?”

  “Well, borse, they been sittin’ down in that shed t’ree year’ now, and they all warp up. There ain’ no way them bolts goin’ fit in them holes.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Big Mike groaned. And looked at Lawson. “What the hell do we do?”

  “We get some good nails and we board them up.”

  “Nails? In my window frames?” Babs demanded.

  “It’s better than having them blown out,” Lawson told her. “You got a good supply of nails, Dad?”

  “Of course I don’t have a good supply of nails,” Big Mike groused.

  “Okay, there’s time. Josh, when you go home this afternoon, you buy all the nails we will need at the store, and bring them out with you tomorrow morning. Right?”

  “Okay, borse. I goin’ do that. I goin’ bring my nephew to help an’ all. He is good with nails.” He ambled off again.

  “Fucking country,” Big Mike growled, revealing his first trace of nerves. “Can’t even leave some wood lying around without it warping. You’d better check yours out, Neal.”

  “Mine are all brand new. Had them made the moment I got down here.” Neal smiled triumphantly. “We have nothing to worry about.”

  6.00 pm

  “Okay, folks,” Big Mike shouted to the world in general. “News time.”

  They straggled into the lounge, having spent an exhausting afternoon helping Neal to put his shutters into place. Dale mixed up rum cocktails while they took their places in front of the TV set in various stages of undress, not very interested in the news, although Mike had tuned in to a Miami station rather than the local Bahamian telecast, whose weather coverage was sketchy to say the least. Before the news was finished the Robsons had joined them.

  “Now, sssh,” Big Mike told everyone. “This is important.”

  “And now for the weather, and that hurricane, folks,” said the anchorman. “Faith is her name, and she could be heading our way. How about an update, Gordon?”

  The camera switched to a smiling young man standing in front of a huge map.

  “Remember when this station had that gorgeous Richard Connors?” Belle asked her mother.

  “Oh, yes. He’s in New York, now, you know, with NABS. I think Jo knows him.”

  “Does she? You must ask her to get me his signed photo.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Lawson inquired, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

  “Will you guys shut up,” Big Mike shouted. “We want to listen to this.”

  “Well, hello, there,” the young man named Gordon was saying. “I guess I’ll begin with Hurricane Faith, because she is a full hurricane now. As to whether she poses any threat to South Florida… We have Dr John Eisener standing by at the Coral Gables Hurricane Tracking Centre to give us the latest update on that. Good evening, Dr Eisener.”

  The meteorologist came up on the huge monitor. “Good evening to you, Gordon.”

  “What’s Faith doing right this minute, Doctor?”

  “Well, Gordon, as you know, the storm passed over Haiti last night. Then it was blowing a good ninety miles an hour around the center, and there was some pretty heavy rainfall as well. We’ve reports of seventeen inches of rain in three hours.”

  Gordon gave an obliging whistle of amazement, as if he did not have all the figures on the desk before him.

  “We had some hopes the storm might begin to dissipate over the land,” Eisener continued. “But it regained strength the moment it hit open water again, and if anything the circulation increased; winds at the center are now just short of a hundred miles an hour, with gales extending some hundred miles from the eye. Its position is here…” He turned to another huge wall map and touched it with his wand. “That is about a hundred miles south-east of Mayaguana, in the south-eastern Bahamas, and it is moving north at about 15 knots — it has quickened its progress considerably over the past few hours. Mayaguana is already experiencing gale force winds and heavy rain, and a hurricane warning has been issued by the Bahamian Government to cover as far north as Cat Island.” The wand flickered out again to touch the large island just south of the southernmost tip of Eleuthera. “We would expect that warning to be extended to include Eleuthera and even the Abacos by this evening.”

  Meg Robson moaned, and Big Mike remarked, “Holy shit!”

  “Faith is moving just west of north, you said, Doctor?” Gordon asked.

  Eisener nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Do you expect that track to be maintained?”

  “Well, Gordon, as you know, one can never be certain with tropical storms. There are so many factors involved. But given what information we have, the absence of any jet stream activity in this vicinity, the water temperatures, and so on, yes, I would expect her to continue on her present track for at least twenty-four hours. That would take her just east of Eleuthera and the Abacos and thence north to Bermuda.”

  Gordon was giving his viewers a reassuring smile. “In other words, in your opinion this storm poses no real threat to South Florida.”

  “Unless there is a substantial alteration of course during the next few hours, that is, unless Faith swings sharp westerly and begins to make for New Providence, then I would say there is no real threat to the Miami area. There’ll be some big seas on the coast, mind…”

  “Ideal for surfers,” Gordon suggested.

  “Oh, indeed. But we’ll continue to monitor it, hour by hour. One of our pilots will be out there first thing tomorrow morning, checking it out.”

  �
�Thank you, Dr Eisener. I’m sure that’s what our listeners wanted to hear. Now let me ask you one final question. Is this a dangerous storm?”

  Eisener moved away from his map, and the camera brought him into close focus. “Gordon, you know as well as I that any hurricane is potentially dangerous. Faith is not a major hurricane; sustained winds of 100 mph put her into what we call Category Two. But that is still a lot of wind. The folks in the Bahamas should prepare themselves for very high seas topped by storm surges of maybe six feet, which will mean considerable flooding in low-lying areas. The probability of flooding will be increased by torrential rain, and there will be considerable lightning activity. Certainly they should take every precaution, and people in isolated areas should prepare to be cut off for a day or two, maybe longer. Finally, Gordon, we must always bear in mind that this storm has the potential to deepen, and become a Category Three. That would put her in the same class as Gloria of a few years back — and I don’t have to remind you that Gloria was a very dangerous storm indeed.”

  “Thank you, Dr Eisener.” Gordon beamed at them. “So there you have it, folks. A spot of bother for the Bahamas, maybe, but nothing to worry about here in South Florida. So sleep easy in your beds tonight. Now for Gordon’s forecast for the next twenty-four hours. It will be partly cloudy tonight, and…”

  Big Mike was on his feet to switch off the set. “Holy shit! Nothing to worry about here in South Florida,” he mimicked. “We’re not in South Florida. That asshole wouldn’t be so Goddamned complacent if he were here. Well, that’s it, folks. The holiday is over. Tomorrow morning first thing we are gonna put those shutters up, and then we are going to catch the first plane out of North Eleuthera travelling west.” He looked around their faces. “Right?”

  “Right,” Meg agreed.

  “Right,” Babs and Neal said together.

  Lawson looked at Belle, who shrugged. “If we are all going to fly out of here tomorrow, hadn’t someone better go to the airport and book our seats?” she asked.

  “At nearly seven o’clock?” Lawson asked. “You have to be joking. There won’t be anyone there.”

  “Surely they don’t close the airport before dark?”

  “Of course they do! How the hell else would the drug planes get in?”

  “Lawson, now is no time to be funny,” his wife snapped.

  Lawson handed her a full glass and kissed her nose. “Lover, I’m not funning, I’m serious. But if it’ll please you I’ll try to raise someone on the CB.” He picked up the handset. “Palm Bay Airport. Palm Bay Airport, will you come in, please.” He waited a moment, while they all watched him, and Dale mixed some more drinks. “Any taxi, Palm Bay area, any taxi, come in please. This is Dolphin Point calling.” Another wait. “Hell, this is a waste of time.” He switched off the set. “I’ll try again in the morning.”

  “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.”

  TUESDAY 25 JULY

  Dolphin Point, North Eleuthera, Bahamas — Dawn

  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 Bahamas’. “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.