A Man Like Him. Rachel Brimble

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      CHAPTER THREE

      FROM THE CLUBHOUSE ROOF, Angela stared out at the wreckage the flood had left behind. The rain stopped the moment the sun rose above the mountains. It lit the sky in glorious pink and peach. An ironic relief, for it also lit the devastation. Tears blurred her gaze. As far as the eye could see, the world was hidden beneath brown swirling water. The roofs of cars and the top few feet of trees punctuated the landscape like macabre reminders of what had been visible and alive with holidaymakers just a few short hours before.

      “My God.” Her words caught painfully in her throat. How would the park ever recover from this? The money. The damage. Everything was beneath water and warping as five hundred or so people stood helpless watching it happen.

      She turned from the horizon to stare at the anguished faces of the people who’d come to the Cove for a holiday, a break, a relaxing time away from life’s chaos. People stood so close their arms brushed hers, yet everything was eerily quiet. The odd murmur, the odd whisper to God blew along a soft breeze.

      Children lay silent in their parents’ arms; grown men shook their heads, tears sliding over their cheeks unchecked.

      She closed her eyes and forced her mind to focus. The red tiled roof of the stockroom was adjacent to the clubhouse. If they could somehow manage to pull off the tiles and underlay beneath, she could climb inside and pass up supplies. Bottled water, soda, ice cream and sealed packets of cookies were stored there for selling in the outdoor snack shop. It would at least sustain them and keep the panic of passing time at bay awhile longer.

      Until what? She opened her eyes. How would they get out of here? Would the authorities send boats? A whirr sounded in the distance and she lifted her head, shielding her eyes against the sun. A helicopter.

      Hope filled her chest as the noise grew around her. One by one the subdued crowd heard it, too. Fingers pointed to the sky, voices rose and then cheers erupted. Angela’s smile stretched to a full-blown grin. A man to the side of her pulled her into an embrace and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead.

      “We’re saved.” He laughed, his eyes shining. “We’re saved.”

      She laughed. “It’s going to be all right.” She said aloud the words that had revolved on an endless reel in her mind for the previous, terrifying hours.

      “I can’t believe this has happened.” The man shook his head.

      Angela swallowed. “What time is it? Do you have a watch? A phone?”

      He released her and turned his wrist. “Half past six.”

      Angela nodded as he turned away to his family. Five hours. It had taken just five hours to turn the park into a mud-red sea. Another whirr of blades filtered the air and then another. Three helicopters circled overhead as people raised their hands, cheering and shouting.

      She squinted in an effort to see what kind of helicopters they were, praying they were for rescue or the police. She couldn’t make out the letters along the side. Wouldn’t the police or rescue teams have bold and distinct markings?

      They hovered above them and flew back and forth for twenty minutes, before tilting and flying away.

      As their tails disappeared over the horizon, panic overtook the crowd once more. The cheers became shouts of protest. The waving hands turned to people clutching their heads and throats. She needed to get them doing something. Keep them busy to lessen the panic and pass the time. Their saviors would be back.

      Angela stared after the helicopters. They had to come back.

      She took a deep breath and pushed her way through the throng of bodies. Setting her jaw against the rapid beat of her heart, Angela pushed onward. She would not panic. She was strong. A survivor. This was nothing more than a test.

      Elbowing her way through the mass of men, women and children, she struggled toward the stockroom roof. Once there, she leaned over the railing surrounding the top of the clubhouse and looked down. The water was two-thirds the way up the wall, which meant the flooding had to be at least nine feet above ground level. She raised her arms.

      “Everyone. Can I have your attention?”

      The men and women closest looked at her and one by one tapped the shoulders of the people standing next to them. The noise lessened and Angela met their defeated gazes. People, both young and old, trembled. Their faces were pale, either from fear or cold. She forced a smile. She was the park manager; it was up to her to keep the guests СКАЧАТЬ