She guided the old lady into her own flat and because the water was now flowing out more quickly than it was flowing in and the level had dropped, she managed to force her front door shut. But having the balcony door open had allowed the freezing air outside to invade the flat and the living-room, particularly, was extremely cold.
Petra closed that door now as the incoming flow was cut down by the front door, and then deciding that the bedroom would probably be a little warmer, led Mrs. Arden through and sat her down on the bed.
Once again Petra peered out of the window to find the water still surging by. All the houses were in darkness, but she was sure other anxious faces must be pressed to the windows waiting for the help which she was sure was on the way. As she looked across at the houses opposite, Petra saw that the water was not far below window level and realised it must be the same below her. She opened the window and leaning out shone the torch downwards, shuddering as she found the sea bubbling and sucking only a foot below her.
Quickly she closed the window again. 'We've got to get out of here,' thought Petra. 'We must get up to the next floor somehow.' But the only way up to the first floor was to climb out of a window. Since the house had been converted into self-contained flats, there was no longer an indoor staircase.
Quickly Petra darted to her balcony door. She stood on the balcony above the tumbling water and looked upward. There was a window above hers, but no means of reaching it. Even if she managed to alert Mr. Campbell, they would never get Mrs. Arden to safety that way.
She hurried back to the bedroom, sloshing through the water still lying on the floor.
As she crossed the living-room the beam of her torch picked out the telephone. "Fool!" she cried aloud and snatched off the receiver. The line was dead. "Damn." She spoke softly and clearly. "Damn, damn!"
Dropping the receiver back into its cradle, she went back to Mrs. Arden. She looked up suddenly as Petra came in and demanded, "Where's Peregrine? Does he know the pipe's burst?"
The ludicrous suggestion that all the water around them could have come from a burst pipe made Petra laugh; then she said, "I'm sure he'll come as soon as he can. Don't worry. I'm going to put a message out to the rescuers. Someone's sure to come soon. The police will be out in boats, I expect."
Leaving Mrs. Arden in the dark for a moment, Petra hurriedly found a white pillowcase and a thick red felt pen which she normally used for diagrams and posters. Quickly she scrawled HELP S.O.S. on the pillowcase and returning to the bedroom, pushed up the sash and leant out. She had intended to hang the pillowcase from the sill, but realising now it might well float away she went back in, collected a couple of drawing-pins, and sitting on the sill reached up and pinned her distress signal to the top part of the frame.
Her torch beam was fading fast now and it wasn't until Mrs. Arden said with sudden lucidity, "Haven't you got any candles?" that Petra remembered she had. She went to find them and soon she and the indomitable old lady were sitting in the bedroom in the flickering light given by two elegant red candles Petra had once bought for a dinner party.
She found a towel to dry Mrs. Arden, but the old woman had refused point-blank to remove her soaking clothes and in the end Petra had to settle for wrapping a blanket round her and hoping she wouldn't catch pneumonia. It was too cold to keep the window open, but Petra sat beside it scanning the street for any signs of a rescue party. There were flickering lights in several houses now as people awoke to discover their plight and managed to find flashlights and candles.
Suddenly, Petra realised the water level was rising again and went quickly through to open the balcony door. Once again the water gushed away and Petra thanked God she had such a safety valve.
Despite the cold she left that door open this time in the desperate hope that any more water seeping in would not get as far as the bedroom.
"Where's Peregrine?" demanded Mrs. Arden. "You said he was coming."
"I'm sure he will, as soon as he can," said Petra reassuringly. "But the streets are under water too, you know. It won't be easy for him."
How long she sat beside the window Petra did not know. The slow minutes crept away as she concentrated on the flooded world outside. At last she saw them, a small motor boat with a spotlight moving slowly along the water-filled street.
"Thank heaven!" Petra cried aloud. "Here come the police." She opened the window again and as they approached, listened with relief to the man in the bows of the boat who was speaking through a loud hailer.
"Please signal if you have anyone injured or infirm in the house. Signal to us if there is anyone injured or infirm in your house."
Petra waved frantically and at last the boat drew level with the window.
"There's an old lady here," she called. "I've got her up from the basement flat, but she's soaking wet and cold and I've no light or heat."
"Is your flat under water?" the man called as he saw how close the sea was to the window sill.
"Not completely, but we can't get out."
"Hang on, and I'll radio a rescue boat. Stay by the window and have the old lady ready."
The boat moved on. broadcasting its message and answering signals from other houses in the street, particularly those like Petra's which had been divided into flats.
Petra turned back inside to look at Mrs. Arden. How would they ever get her out through the window? She had trouble enough moving at the best of times, but to heave her out into a boat bobbing below her might prove well-nigh impossible. Still, she must get her ready; perhaps she should tie something round her just in case she did fall.
Quickly, Petra moved the old lady to the window, seating her on the chair there and then she pulled a sheet off her bed, twisted it into a makeshift rope and secured it round the old woman's middle.
Within a few minutes another boat arrived, a much bigger boat which already held two people huddled together, wrapped in blankets. Petra leant out of the window and called and the boat came over, manoeuvring carefully under the window-sill.
"Who have we got?" demanded one of the men, holding on to the window to keep the boat steady.
"Mrs. Arden, from the basement flat. She can't move at all easily and she's soaking wet and cold."
"Can you sit on the window ledge, love?" the rescuer asked, turning to Mrs. Arden. But she gave no sign that she had heard him, merely continuing to stare vacantly ahead of her.
"I'll try and get her to do it," said Petra. "I've tied a sheet round her like a rope; just in case she slips."
"Well done," said the man. "We'll manage. Hold steady, Charlie," he called to his assistant. "Now, if you can sit her on the sill, we'll try and swing her legs round. I'll hold her this side, you hold her that. Think you can?"
Petra nodded and helping Mrs. Arden to her feet, pushed her against the sill. It was no easy task, but at last they got her round and with Petra actually sitting on the window-sill beside her, managed to ease her into the boat.
What happened next, Petra never knew, but as Mrs. Arden's weight went from her grasp, she herself slipped and fell sideways out of the window. The shock of the freezing water made her cry out, and she swallowed a mouthful of salt water. Coughing and spluttering, she struggled to the surface once again, but she crashed her head against the underside of the boat and remembered nothing more.
When she awoke, Petra found herself in bed, warm and dry with a splitting headache. She opened her eyes cautiously and shut them again in a hurry as the light pierced her head and set it hammering in protest. After a few moments she tried again and this time, despite the pain, she kept her eyes open and discovered she was in a hospital room.
Petra wondered for a moment how she came to be there and then the events of the night all came rushing back to her, the flood, the cold, Mrs. Arden and the boat. Shakily, she raised a hand to her head and found it bandaged.
She closed her eyes again and lay still, her mind drifting back. She wondered if Mrs. Arden was safe somewhere, but it was too much effort to think co
herently and she dozed again.
Next time she woke she felt a little better and when a nurse bustled in she was able to ask where she was.
"In the General, dear. Now do you fancy a little drink of something?"
"A drink of water would be nice," Petra said.
The nurse helped her drink the water and then said, "Now have another good sleep and if you're better this evening we can let your visitors in."
Petra wanted to ask how long she had been there and who her visitors were, but suddenly it all seemed too much effort and so she simply closed her eyes and slept again.
To her surprise, her parents were her first visitors. "How did you know where I was?" she asked.
"The college phoned us, of course," said her mother. "How do you feel now, darling?"
"My head aches a bit, otherwise I'm fine."
Her mother nodded. "Concussion, the doctor said, and a nasty cut on your forehead."
Petra had seen the doctor herself just before visiting time and been assured she would be up and about again in a couple of days. Her cut had been stitched and he had promised the scar it left would be very small.
Tom came to visit her, too. He came into the side ward with an armful of flowers and a look of concern came into his grey eyes when he saw the bandage on her head.
"You're something of a heroine," he said when he had kissed her gently and handed the flowers to a nurse.
Petra was puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Saving that old lady," said Tom. "You got her out of the basement just in time by the look of it. When the water went down and they investigated the damage down there, they found that the high water mark came almost to the ceiling. She'd undoubtedly have been drowned if she hadn't got out and there would have been little chance of that if she'd been left on her own."
"Is she all right?" asked Petra anxiously. "Where have they taken her?"
Tom shrugged. "I don't know. The professor was dealing with all that. She came into the hospital at first, of course, but I don't know if she's moved on yet."
"What about the flat?" Petra asked. "My flat, I mean. Is everything ruined?"
Tom looked uneasy and said cautiously, "Well, it is a bit of a mess, but nothing we can't put to rights. In fact," he added, "several of your students have already offered to form a working party, so it shouldn't be too long before you can move back in."
"I'm coming out of here in a couple of days," said Petra. "I suppose I'll have to find somewhere to stay." She sighed, feeling suddenly tired and depressed again.
"No problem," said Tom more cheerfully as he felt the conversation move to safer ground. "The Principal says you're to move into the college guest-room for the time being, just till you get straight." Tom didn't want to say how long that might be. The state of Petra's flat had appalled him, and he could see she was still nothing like her resilient self.
Petra managed a weak smile. "That's kind. Say thank you for me, will you, Tom?"
He got to his feet. "You just have a good rest and get yourself better," he said, and kissing her once more he turned and left the room.
Petra lay with her eyes closed, trying not to cry. Tears won't help, she told herself angrily. But the thought of her flat, the home she had made for herself, being ruined by the sea made it impossible not to weep. Her parents hadn't mentioned the condition of her flat, but recalling their suggestion that she come home for a few days to recover, made Petra realise that they must have been working up to tell her about it when they considered her well enough.
The side-ward door opened softly and thinking it might be Tom come back or the nurse, and not wanting to see either, Petra kept her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. But whoever it was didn't creep out again when he saw her apparently asleep, he drew up a chair, sat down quietly at the bedside and reaching over drew Petra's hand into his own warm grasp.
At this she did open her eyes and found herself looking up into the dark eyes of Nicholas Romilly. He smiled at her and said softly, "Hello."
"Nicholas!"
"I'm glad you're awake. Last time I came you were out for the count."
"You came before? I didn't know."
"Well, I wanted to see you were all right before I went home; I wanted to thank you for rescuing—my mother. She owes her life to you, you know. She'd never have got out on her own. The home help must have left the bedroom window open on Friday and the water simply poured in. All the other windows were tight shut as usual and the place simply filled up like a goldfish bowl."
"Where is she now? Is she all right?"
"Yes, she's fine. They kept her in here for a couple of days and then yesterday I moved her into a nursing-home. When she's quite recovered from the shock she can go to the old people's home as I'd originally arranged."
"What'll you do with her flat?" asked Petra, without admitting even to herself the importance of his answer.
"I'm not sure yet. It'll have to be cleaned and decorated from top to bottom before I can do anything with it. Everything is saturated and discoloured by the sea water and there is an overlay of mud almost everywhere."
Petra's eyes closed for a moment and then she asked, "Is mine as bad?"
Nicholas had retained her hand in his all the while they talked, but now he carried it to his cheek and, pressing it hard against him, said, "Where the sea was, yes, I'm afraid it is. But the water didn't rise all that high. You'd opened your balcony door, hadn't you?"
Petra nodded wearily.
"Well, because you thought of doing that, you should be able to salvage a fair amount."
He sat with her hand to his face for a moment or two, and then turning it over, placed a kiss in its palm. "I'm going now," he said. "I was told not to tire you, and you look worn out." He got up and gently tucked her hand back under the covers.
"I shan't be down on Saturday after all. Mrs. Arden'll stay in the nursing-home for a week or so, but I hope to move her the next Saturday. Shall we make our dinner date for then? You should feel more like it yourself then, too, I expect."
Petra smiled. "That'll be lovely," she said, feeling happier than she had since the night of the flood. "I'll be staying at the college until the flat is habitable again."
"I'll ring you there." And with a featherlight touch of his hand he was gone.
Chapter Five
Tom collected Petra from the hospital and drove her to the college. Although the doctor had agreed she could be discharged, he had warned her to take things easy for several more days. But once clear of the hospital, Petra felt her spirits lift, and felt ready to return to her normal life.
As they drove through the town, she stared in fascinated horror at the damage caused by the floods. The promenade was cordoned off in places where the sea wall had completely collapsed, and work was already in train to rebuild the breaches now only hastily repaired with sandbags. There were uprooted trees and shrubs in the ornamental gardens, so popular with summer visitors, and there were still layers of stinking black mud on the grass in the park where the street cleaners were unable to clean. The sea had flooded one end of the town leaving behind it chaos and destruction. There was debris everywhere.
Petra wanted to visit her flat at once, but Tom refused to take her there yet.
"Tomorrow is soon enough for that," he said firmly. "Let's get you settled into your room in college first."
"But I need clothes and some of my personal things," Petra protested.
"I've brought some over already," said Tom. "There were plenty of clothes the sea hadn't touched. Now remember what the doctor said, 'Take it steady and you'll be fine.' "
Petra found her room had been made ready for her and, having reached it, sank gratefully into a chair. Tom was right really, she'd be far better facing the mess in her flat tomorrow. She looked round the room, the room Nicholas had occupied the night after the lecture, the night of the flood. Today is Thursday, she thought, only five days since the conference. It feels like a million years.
She dragged her attention back to Tom, who was telling her what had been prepared.
"Sally Harmer made up the bed and unpacked for you," he was saying. "It's Sally, actually, who's organising the group of students who've volunteered to help get your flat straight."
"That's kind of her, Tom. And kind of you, too, to organise it all for me. I don't know how I'd have managed on my own."
Tom's gaze rested on her for a moment before he said, "Well, we're all proud of you. But I will admit you gave us all a fright."
"I'm fine now, though," protested Petra, forcing a lighter note into her voice. Tom's intense stare made her uncomfortable. It was only recently he had begun to look at her in that way, and it was very much a departure from the casual, comfortable relationship they had had at first. And as this thought clung in her mind, so she withdrew from him and when he knelt beside her chair and took her in his arms she tried to pull away.
"Come on, Petra," he coaxed. "Just a little cuddle. I've been so worried about you."
She let him kiss her and wished he would go away.
Feeling her unresponsive to his kisses, Tom let her go. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have realised you wouldn't be feeling like anything much." He gave her a grin. "You'll be fine if you take things easy."
Petra grasped at the excuse he'd handed her and managing a smile, said, "I'm sorry, too, Tom. It's sort of delayed shock, I expect, but I do feel a bit feeble still."
Having made certain she had everything she wanted, he left her sitting in front of the electric fire. "Have a good night's sleep," he said, "and I'll take you to the flat tomorrow. I've no lectures in the afternoon, so we can go then."
Petra had another visitor later that evening. The Principal came in to see if she was settled and to have a chat.
"You can have the room as long as you need it," he told her, "so don't run yourself into the ground trying to move back into your flat. And no college work till Monday at the earliest. We don't want any relapses because you rushed back straight away."
A Bid for Love & A Chance of Happiness Page 17