Icon of Gold

by Teresa Crane

  ‘I’ll have to pop next door. I won’t be long —’

  ‘Let me come —‘ He reached for his trousers.

  ‘No. You stay here. There’s really nothing you can do. I

  promise I won’t be long.’ She ran into the other bedroom, came back struggling into a thick jumper. ‘I’ll just make up his fire, light his lamp, make him a cup of tea. Try to make him comfortable. His temperature was up at lunchtime. I tried to persuade him to come in here with me, but the stubborn old devil wouldn’t —’

  He raised his eyebrows. She sucked her lip, flushing a little.

  ‘— I’ll be right back’ She kissed him lightly. He held her tightly to him. ‘Make yourself comfortable. The kitchen will be warmest. The stove roars away when the wind blows.’ She turned to the door.

  ‘Cathy?’ His voice was soft.

  She turned back to him.

  ‘Do you regret — what just happened?’

  She studied his face for a moment in the softness of the firelight. ‘No,’ she said. ‘How could I?’ and disappeared into the darkness.

  When she slipped back through the front door, windblown and drenched, a little over half an hour later it was to a room tidied and candlelit. The fire roared and danced. She took off her duffel coat and looked around her in delight. Beethoven played on the gramophone; the ‘Pastoral’. Through the open door of the kitchen she could hear Nikos humming to the music. A glass oil lamp had been lit and stood upon the kitchen table. The smell of frying bacon was delicious on the air. She crossed the room, stood at the kitchen door. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his smile lighting his face. ‘You told me to make myself at home. I took you at your word.’ He was standing at the stove, manipulating the huge black frying pan. Two tumblers of whisky stood upon the table. ‘The kitchen looks great.’ He indicated the glasses with a movement of his head. ‘I poured you a drink.’

  She smiled. ‘Thanks. And thanks.’ She picked up the glass, sat at the table, nursing it in her cupped hands, watching him.

  ‘How’s the old feller?’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘Not good. I finally persuaded him into bed. I’ll pop back later. I’m worried about him.’

  He turned, studying her face. ‘You want to fetch him in here?’ he asked, genuinely concerned. ‘I could help -’

  ‘He won’t. He simply won’t.’ She shook her head. ‘You know what he is. We can’t forcibly evacuate him, now can we? He’ll be all right. I just have to remember to keep an eye on him.’ Her eyes went to the window as another gust of wind rattled it. ‘It’s getting a bit wild out there. I hope we aren’t going to get the bad weather they’ve had up north. It’s a nuisance about the electricity. With no radio we’re stuck with no news or forecasts.’

  He laid a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her, dropped a kiss on to the top of her head. ‘Then there’s no point in fretting, is there? We’ve more important things to think about.’

  She caught his hand, held it to her cheek. “I’m not sure I want to think. I’m not sure I can.’

  With their hands still linked he sat down. ‘Then we won’t,’ he said, softly. ‘Not now. Not yet. I can stay until Sunday — if you’d like me to, that is?’

  She smiled her answer.

  ‘There’ll be plenty of time to talk. For now — eat your supper.’ He kissed her fingertips, one by one, ‘I want to make love to you again.’

  They made love on the floor by the light of the fire, and then he held her, relaxed and sleepy, his back against the sofa, looking into the flames. The room was warm and softly lit by the candles; an enchanted haven made more intimate, more cosy by the sound of the wind and sea in the darkness outside. With his cheek resting upon Cathy’s curly hair, Nikos let contentment fill him. Tomorrow they would face the future. Tomorrow, or the day after. For now he could think of nothing but the fact that the agony was over; she loved him. And for the moment, that was enough.

  *

  The next morning the cold wind, north-westerly now, had if anything strengthened a little. Towards lunchtime, hand-in-hand and heads down against the wind they went down to the dunes and watched the churning, foaming waves as they crashed on to the strand. ‘It’s coming up awfully high,’ Cathy said. ‘And there’s an hour or so to go before it turns.’

  ‘Will it be a problem?’

  She shook her head. ‘Probably not. The tides are always high at this time of year. Goodness, it’s cold!’ She shivered a little and leaned to him, laughing, ‘Come on. Let’s get back.’

  Snug in the warmth of the kitchen she made soup for Bert, and a pie for herself and Nikos, humming softly to herself as she moved about the room. Nikos sat at the table and watched her. Every now and again she caught his eye, and smiled, warmly; absurdly a little shyly. Each time she passed him she could not resist touching him, gently, on his shoulder, or his cheek or his hand. The smallest of contacts were a pleasure in which they both delighted. Before they ate their own lunch Cathy took the soup in to Bert. The old man was still very poorly, the leathery skin of his face flushed unhealthily, his narrow frame wracked by coughing. ‘Perhaps I should get a doctor,’ Cathy said, worriedly.

  ‘Don’t talk silly, girl.’ He stopped, breathing heavily and noisily. ‘What you goin’ ter do — get out in that lot on yer bike?’ He jerked his head towards the window. ‘No point in both of us finishin’ up with pneumonia. Anyway — I got no doctor. No one’d come.’

  She tucked the bedclothes around him, checked the Thermos of hot tea she had made for him. ‘Well, I’ve got one. And if you’re no better by tomorrow I’m going to call him.’ She banked up the fire, set the guard in front of it, turned to face him. ‘Bert, I wish you’d come next door with me. You could be comfortable upstairs in bed —’

  ‘I’m comfortable upstairs in me own bed. I’ve told yer. No.’

  She felt a small and she supposed shameful twinge of relief. ‘OK If you won’t you won’t. I’ll be back this afternoon.’

  Bert grunted.

  Outside she stood for a moment in the roaring wind, straining her eyes and ears towards the sea. By her reckoning the tide must be up about now. The sound of it was wild. Despite her easy reassurance to Nikos earlier she listened for a moment, a little uneasily, before letting herself in to the warm, quiet cottage.

  Nikos was waiting for her. ‘I love you,’ he said.

  *

  That afternoon, unexpectedly, they had a visitor. The loud knock on the door startled them both. Nikos was sitting on the sofa, Cathy curled up on the floor at his feet, her head on his knee. The gramophone played quietly. They had been talking, but had fallen silent, listening to the music when the hammering on the door made them both jump. In guilty haste Cathy scrambled to her feet. ‘Who the devil’s that?’

  Nikos shrugged, shook his head.

  Cathy threw back the curtain and opened the door. ‘Mr Becket! What are you doing here? Come in —’ she stepped back, holding the door against the wind.

  A burly figure dressed in the dark blue overcoat and cap of the coastguard service stepped into the room, took off his cap to reveal a bushy cloud of silver-grey hair. ‘Afternoon, Mrs Kotsikas.’ He struggled a little with the name, looked at Nikos. ‘Afternoon, sir.’

  ‘My stepson,’ Cathy said, and to her horror found deep colour rising in her face. flustered, she slammed the door against the wind, hurried to the gramophone and took the needle from the record. ‘What can we do for you, Mr Becket?’ she asked into the sudden quiet.

  ‘Just called round by way of a warning, Ma’am. Tha’ss a high tide this evenin’ and the wind’s risin’. It don’t look good.’

  She turned. ‘You think it might break through?’

  ‘Just bein’ careful, Ma’am. There’s flood warnings up an’ down the coast. Where possible people at risk are bein’ warned, tha’ss all. Just in case, like.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  He shrugged. ‘All’s well so far. The defences held the early tide, but that winds com
in’ somethin’ fierce now and swung onshore. There’s been very little ebb. Could be a surge this evenin’ —’

  ‘We’re on higher ground here. The cottage has never flooded.’

  He put his cap back on, turned to the door. ‘Like I say, Ma’am, just thought you should know, tha’ss all. Some people have decided to move inland for the night. Just in case, like.’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘We’ve nowhere to go. And we couldn’t anyway —’

  Both men looked at her.

  ‘Bert,’ Cathy said to Nikos. ‘We can’t leave him while he’s so poorly.‘ She turned back to the coastguard. ‘There can’t be that much risk, can there?’

  The wide shoulders shrugged again. ‘Like I say — there’s no knowing. There’s trouble everywhere. Seems there’s a ship gone down off the Irish coast. The Princess Victoria. Passengers and mail. Terrible loss of life, they say. Hardly any survivors at all.’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘That’s terrible. We hadn’t heard. The electricity’s off. We’ve no wireless.’

  The man glanced round, and a warm if weary smile lit his broad, weather-beaten face. ‘You certainly look snug enough,’ he said. ‘You say old Bert’s not well?’

  ‘Yes. flu, I think. We couldn’t move him. Even if he would, which he wouldn’t. He won’t come in here, let alone go anywhere else,’ she added in a tone rueful enough to bring another smile.

  ‘Tha’ss old Bert right enough.’ The man turned to the door. ‘Well, I’d best be goin’. I’ll try to come by again if there’s any definite news.’

  ‘Oh, please — won’t you stay for a cup of tea?’

  He shook his head. ‘Kind of you, Ma’am, but no, I’d best be off. Haven’t been by old Mrs Ransome’s yet. If anything does give her p1ace’ll be the first to go.’

  Cathy opened the door, into the bluster of the wind. ‘Well, thank you for coming.’

  ‘My pleasure, Ma’am.’

  ‘Is there any real danger, do you think?’ Nikos asked as she shut the door behind the coastguard.

  She shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t think so. Even if the walls did breach, as I say, it’s happened before, and the water’s never reached the cottage. Best thing to do is batten down the hatches and ride it out.’ She came to him, touched his cheek as he tilted his head to look up at her. ‘I love you.’

  *

  That evening an all but unprecedented combination of circumstances — wind, tide, a monstrous surge pushed from the gale-lashed Atlantic to the cold waters of the North Sea — sent a tidal wave raging down the embattled east coast that no puny man-made sea defences could stand against. Lincolnshire, Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex — one by one as the wind and the tides rose the coastal flatlands were inundated. Huge waves crashed and battered their way into town and village, flooding streets and houses, tossing boats like flotsam against the quays. Breach after breach sent the swirling water inland. It was the wildest night in living memory, and one that was to exact a ghastly death toll and leave many shocked and homeless.

  As full dark fell and wind and sea howled menacingly Cathy and Nikos sat silent in front of the fire. They had made love again, to the sound of the rising storm. Cathy leaned against Nikos; his hand rested on the smooth skin of her breast inside her shirt.

  ‘Does anyone know you’re here?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No one must.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And -’ she struggled for a moment ‘— Nikos, you know that you mustn’t come again.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said, very calmly.

  There was a long silence. ‘It’s impossible,’ she said, quietly, at last. ‘You know it is.’

  ‘No. I don’t. I won’t.’

  ‘Nikos —’

  ‘Shut up,’ he said, gently. ‘Shut up, my darling, and listen to the wind.’

  *

  The inexorable surge reached them later that night; the defences, here as elsewhere, were hopelessly inadequate. When the sea finally broke through Cathy and Nikos, having decided to stay downstairs for the night, were dozing on the sofa. They heard nothing as the waters raged foaming through the breach then spread, silent and dark across the unprotected fields and wetlands. Only as a sullen dawn broke, grim, cold and windlashed, did they realise that Sandlings, together with its huddled companion cottage next door, was cut off, a tiny island in a vast watery landscape that spread as far as the eye could see. Trees stood in the salty water, or in some cases lay partly submerged, blown down by the gale; flotsam bobbed on the swirling tide. Track and lane had disappeared, marked only by the top few inches of hedge that stood above the flood. Water lapped at the edge of the garden and had come to within a foot of Bert’s front step. But the few feet of elevation had stood them in good stead. They were marooned, but safe. There was nothing to do but to sit it out.

  ‘Perhaps the gods mean us to be together for a little while,’ Cathy said, surveying the flooded landscape from the bedroom window.

  Nikos put his arm about her shoulder. ‘Perhaps the gods mean us to be together for ever,’ he said.

  Cathy did not reply.

  Chapter Ten

  Neither of them realised the extent of the disaster until Bill Becket reached them again, this time by boat, soon after daylight. On first waking to the grey, gale-swept morning, and before his arrival they were understandably preoccupied with their own situation; but a hasty check on supplies and fuel quickly reassured them. For the moment at least even the water supply seemed to have held up. Cathy took the news to Bert, who seemed a little improved and was, as usual, gleefully pessimistic. ‘Next tide’ll get us. Mark my words.’

  The coastguard, wet, cold and tired, was relieved to find them safe. “It’s been one hell of a night, an’ tha’ss the truth, eh, Jack?’ His companion, a young constable who looked exhausted enough to drop, nodded. Becket, sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, rubbed his face wearily. ‘We tried to get through to you earlier, while it was still dark, but we couldn’t make it. There’s trees down all over the place; fishing boats blown a mile inland. It’s a muddle, I can tell you. If only the blasted wind would drop — beggin’ your pardon, Ma’am. But we’ll get you out now, don’t worry.’

  Nikos’ head came up sharply.

  ‘Out?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘Of course. They’ve opened up an emergency centre at the school. You’ll be safe enough there.’

  ‘We’re safe enough here.’

  The man looked from one to the other. He had not slept for twenty-four hours. Stubborn civilians he could do without. ‘There’s another high tide at midday,’ he said, ‘You might not be so lucky this time.’

  Cathy said the first thing that came into her head. ‘We can’t leave Bert.’

  ‘You don’t have to leave him. We’ll take him too. He’ll get attention at the centre.’

  ‘Just getting him to the centre will almost certainly do him more harm than good. Mr Becket — I’m sorry, I know you mean well, but truly we’d as soon stay here. If the waters should rise any further we can always move upstairs. I don’t want to abandon the house; if the floods should reach it there are things I don’t want to lose, things I’d need to move out of the way. There’s a year’s work here —’ she gestured towards the sitting room. ‘I can’t afford to have it entirely ruined. As you can see, we’re safe and well provisioned. We can look after ourselves, I promise you.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘Would you like another cup of tea?‘

  ‘Please.’

  Cathy refilled their cups.

  ‘The water supply may become contaminated.’

  ‘I’ll fill the bath,‘ she said, calmly. ‘That’ll give us enough for a couple of days at least if it should be necessary.’

  The man shrugged tiredly. ‘I suppose it’s up to you, Mrs Kotsikas. If you really want to stay —’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘— then we can’t force you to leave.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to have mad
e the effort,’ she said, gently, and meant it.

  He stood up, reached for his cap. ‘Best we get going, then.’

  As the boat puttered away through the grey, choppy water Cathy, watching from the window, said, ‘You should have gone with them. You’re due back in town. You’ll be missed. You can’t just disappear.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you here alone.’ He came up behind her, put his arms about her. She leaned her head upon his shoulder. ‘In fact I don’t want to leave you at all. Ever.’

  ‘You’ll have to. Sooner or later.’

  She sensed his shaken head.

  ‘You should have gone with them,’ she said again. ‘What will you tell Leon? How will you explain?’

  He moved away from her, started to clear the table. ‘From what your Mr Becket said it sounds as if the whole coast is in chaos, through to London and beyond. Pa’s out of the country. Miss Hooper lives on the coast near London - Canvey Island, is it called? Didn’t he say there are reports that conditions in Essex are as bad if not worse than here? I very much doubt that she’ll make it to the office until this lot clears. The trains probably aren’t running anyway. For once, no one knows where I am. For once the gods are on my side. And I’m going to take advantage of it.’ He put the dirty cups in the sink and came to her, cupping her face in his hands. ‘Another day. Perhaps another two. Time together. Who knows when we’ll get such a chance again?’

  She covered his hands with her own. ‘It’s dangerous,’ she said. And wrong. That she did not say; it was too late. ‘What if someone should suspect?’

  ‘I have every right to be here.’ He gathered her to him, spoke into her hair. ‘Don’t make me go. Please.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘You know I can’t.’

  The dangerous midday tide, still wind driven, crept only a few inches up the garden. It was bitterly cold and snow swirled in flurries about the cottage. Watching from the window Cathy allowed herself a sigh of relief. ‘It’s OK. It’s going down I think.’