Isle of Waves (16 page)

Ben disappeared into the kitchen with the order for soup all around.

Sam scrubbed at his eyes. “I think Mum and Dad might come here later to eat. We ought to tell them if you’re closing up shop.”

“We’ll cook for them, no worries. Text them to call when they’re on their way.”

“I’ll ring them. Mum has this weird aversion to texts. She thinks they’re lazy. Hey, Mum….” Sam listened for a moment and then he said, “Are you sure? Do you want us to bring anything to you? Okay, bye.”

“The hospital are recommending all visitors and nonessential staff go home for the night. Mum and Dad are going back to Rose’s. There’s food in the freezer, so they won’t starve.”

“Where are you two sleeping?”

“We were going to ask if we could sleep here. We’ve had enough of the hotel. At least you guys are family. We checked out just before we came over here.”

“Sure you can. You two get the spare bed, though. Nibs and I want our bed back.” Wig looked at Ben as he joined them. “I think you and Steve should go home after this. I don’t want you traveling on the roads in the dark.”

“Cool. I was going to ask if we could leave early.”

“Go after the soup. How are you getting home?”

Sometimes Ben and Steve cycled to work.

“Steve drove this morning. We’re parked a few roads away.”

“Well, just be careful, okay?”

“We will. Damn, did you see that?” Ben stared out of the window. “Boss, we need to get those sandbags in place now. That wave nearly reached us.”

Wig looked over to Nibs who held a tray of large mugs of soup and fresh bread. “We better eat this fast, babe.”

Nibs frowned as he stared at the howling rain and wind outside. “Guys,” he looked at Ben and Steve who’d just come out of the kitchen. “Is there anything you need at home?”

Steve shook his head. “Other than clean clothes.”

“Stay here, then. I don’t like the thought of you being outside.”

“Liam and Sam are staying as well,” Nibs said.

“Good, I was going to insist they did. We’ve got the beds and the sofa bed. We’ll be fine.”

Ben slumped against Steve. “Is it wussy to say I’m relieved?”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “Just the sound of the wind scares me.”

Liam came back in with a small overnight bag, soaking wet once more, and his eyes were wide and frightened. “Did you see that wave? I thought it was going to take me off my feet.”

“Why didn’t you come in the back way? The door’s been fixed.” Wig asked.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Dumbarse,” Sam said affectionately. He flinched as Liam rubbed his wet hair against Sam’s cheek. “Gerrof me!”

“Soup, then sandbags, gentlemen.” Nibs handed out the mugs.

The six men drank their soup and watched waves spray high above the wall.

“Have you spoken to Paul?” Wig asked.

“Yep. He and Skandik got home safely. It’s still calm there. The rain and wind hasn’t hit London yet.”

“When does he go back to work?”

Sam furrowed his brow. “I can’t remember. Soon, I think. Skandik wants to do some sightseeing before he goes home.”

Another large wave, perilously close to the restaurant, reminded them of what they had to do next.

Nibs held his hand out for the mugs. “Time for work.”

Sam nodded, but he looked at Liam. “You stop when you need to. I’m not having you collapse through overwork.”

“I’m all right,” Liam said.

“And pigs might fly,” Sam snapped.

“Sam’s right,” Wig said. “We can do the heavy lifting. Liam, can you check the building? Make sure every window is locked securely. In the last storm we nearly lost a window because it was half-latched.”

Liam looked as if he was about to argue, but then his shoulders slumped. “I hate being so weak.” He leant into Sam as he hugged him.

“You are never weak,” Sam whispered into Liam’s still damp hair.

Wig looked away at such an intimate moment and caught Nibs’s eye. “Let’s get going.”

He locked the door. Liam disappeared upstairs as the others brought the sandbags from the back.

“We’ll do both back and front,” Nibs said, “in case the direction of the wind changes.”

With the six of them, it didn’t take long to fortify the doors, and soon they’d finished and were sitting in front of the television.

Wig leant again Nibs in the large armchair. He was small enough they could snuggle in the chair together. “I can’t remember the last time we’ve had so much time off. It’s been such a disrupted week.” The lights flickered at the same time as the TV picture. “And we’re going to lose power. Great.”

“Do you know where the candles and the torches are?” Nibs asked.

“There are candles on the windowsill in every room with a matchbook next to them. The torches are in the kitchen.” Wig hopped up and retrieved the torches, giving one to each couple. “Here are spare batteries, as well.”

“You’re so organized,” Steve said.

Nibs grunted. “I think you mean OCD.”

“I don’t care what you call it. I’m glad you know where everything is,” Liam said.

“What Liam’s not saying is that I don’t even know if we have any candles. He’s trying to organize me, though.” Sam kissed his husband.

As Wig and the other three made gagging noises, Liam and Sam flipped them the bird.

The lights flickered again and Nibs looked up. “We ought to get the beds sorted in case the lights do go out.”

“Good call,” Wig said. “Everyone up.” He ignored their groans and headed for the airing cupboard.

“Liam and Sam, you’re sleeping upstairs. Nibs and I will move back into our bedroom. Ben and Steve, you get the sofa bed you’re sitting on. You just pull it out.” He handed linen and duvet covers to everyone, plus a duvet to Steve. “We’ll dump yours behind the sofa until later.”

Fifteen minutes later they were back on the sofa watching TV with bottles of beer and crisps.

“What are we watching?” Sam asked, the last to come back.

“
EastEnders
I think. We’re not usually around to watch it,” Ben said.

Wig looked around. “Something else?” He got five nods, so he flicked through the channels. There was a collective sigh as Nathan Fillion filled the screen, so he left it on
Castle
.

“I’d so do that man,” Ben said.

Nibs snorted. “Wait in line, sonny. I had dibs on him when he was in
Buffy
.”

“Buffy? What’s that?”

Four heads swiveled to him, including Wig’s. Steve looked as clueless as Ben.

“You don’t know what
Buffy
is?” Sam gasped, a hand to his heart. “You haven’t lived. Angel, Spike….” Another sigh. “Do you know who they are?”

Ben shook his head. “No. I haven’t got a clue. Steve?”

His boyfriend shook his head. “I think this is old people’s TV, Ben.”

“I think I’ll throw you out into the storm if you make another crack like that,” Wig said just as a severe gust of wind made the window frames rattle.

“Please don’t do that.” Steve burrowed as close to Ben as he could. “It’s scary out there.”

“I ought to phone Mum before we go to bed. The hospital promised to call with an update on Rose. Where did I leave my phone?” Sam patted his pockets. “Damn, I left it in my coat, which is still downstairs. I’d better get it. She might have already called.”

“The lights are by the bar,” Nibs called after him.

Wig snuggled into Nibs’s arms and watched the TV. He’d hoped for the evening alone with Nibs, but it was nice to ride out the storm with friends.

Sam came back into the bar. “Next door is still open. They’re obviously hoping for an evening trade.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Wig said. “They seem like the type of people who don’t let a little thing like a hurricane put them off.”

“Think they’re bloody stupid,” Nibs grunted.

“Mum says there’s no change in Rose. The hospital will call if anything happens imminently.”

“I don’t care what the weather’s like, if there’s a change we’re going to the hospital.” Liam sounded almost fierce.

Wig remembered that Liam had nursed his best friend Alex until he’d died.

“No question,” Sam said, sitting next to Liam again.

“I don’t suppose anyone wants to watch the footie,” Ben said and received a barrage of cushions in response.

“
Firefly
?” Nibs asked.

“Even I know that one,” Steve said.

Sam leant over to flick Steve’s ear. “Good for you, youngster.”

“Ow!” Steve clapped a hand to his ear. “If I’d known I was going to get assaulted, I’d have braved the storm.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and watch Captain Mal.” Nibs put the first episode on, and Wig settled back to drool over the wickedly good Captain.

The power stayed on until eleven, by which time all the men were ready for bed. As the lights flickered for the last time and the TV died, Nibs said, “I guess that’s our cue to go to bed.”

Suddenly Wig heard a loud cracking noise, so loud it penetrated the violence of the storm, and the room shook violently as something crashed nearby.

Wig cried out along with everyone else and Sam yelled, “What the hell was that?”

Nibs sprang to his feet. “I don’t know. Something’s fallen. A tree maybe?”

Wig rushed to the window and looked outside. “I can’t see anything out here, but I can’t see shit, as it’s so fucking dark.”

“I don’t think it hit us,” Liam said.

“Thank fuck for that,” Nibs said, “but something came down close by. We ought to see if anyone needs help.”

They used torches to go down the stairs, although both of them were used to going up and down in the dark. Wig checked the back door while Nibs went to the front.

“All’s clear here,” Wig said.

“Something’s going on next door,” Nibs said. “There’s a lot of people out on the deck. I can see old Mrs. Sawar, and Ghuram’s there.”

“It’s not the right weather to be standing out there.” Wig leant into Nibs, demanding his cuddle.

“I know, but I think something’s wrong. We ought to see if we can help.”

“Why should we help them?” Wig said sourly.

“Because.”

“Because what.”

“Because we’re decent people. Come on.”

“Liam, you stay here,” Sam insisted and, when Liam opened his mouth, poked him in the chest. “Don’t argue.”

Wig held on to Nibs’s arm as he went to open the door. “Nibs, coat. Put a damn coat on.”

“What’s the point? We’ll get soaked anyway.”

“You expect me to go out there? What about an umbrella?”

“How much beer did you have? There are eighty-mile-an-hour winds, and you want an umbrella?”

Nibs opened the door and ran outside. Wig hesitated on the doorstep and then followed him out, staggering under the force of the storm, the other men on his heels. Nibs ran down the stairs, with Wig following more sedately. He didn’t want to trip arse-over-tip down the slippery wooden steps.

Five people stood on the veranda of the Indian restaurant.

“Are you okay, Sawar?” Nibs yelled. It was hard to hear above the rain, wind, and noise of the waves.

Ghuram shook his head. “A tree crashed through our roof and knocked the water tank through the ceiling. We’ve called the fire brigade, but they’re finding it hard to get here. They’ve told us to get out of the place.”

“Is everyone safe?”

“We’re all fine. We were downstairs at the time. I’ve shut the water off, and nothing else has happened.”

“Where are you going to go? Have you called your brother?”

“I phoned him, but there are trees blocking the way. He says he’ll get here when he can.”

Wig looked at Nibs and nodded. “Right, you come in the restaurant. You can’t stay out here.”

“But—”

“Do you want your mother to stand out in the rain? She’ll get pneumonia.”

Ghuram flapped his mouth. Old Mrs. Sawar spoke at him rapidly.

“What did she say?” Nibs said.

“Get me the hell out of this rain,” Ghuram said resignedly.

“Wig and Ben, you help Mrs. Sawar to the Lagoon. I’ll help with Mr. Sawar.” Old Mr. Sawar was in a wheelchair.

Wig held out his arm to the old lady, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took his arm and they guided her downstairs.

They were closely followed by Nibs and Sam carrying the old man down while one of the other Sawars, Wig wasn’t sure who he was, carrying the wheelchair.

The quiet of the restaurant was almost deafening in contrast to the noise of the storm.

“I’ve heated some water on the hob to make hot drinks,” Liam said.

“Good idea. I’ll get towels for everyone.” Wig ran upstairs and raided the airing cupboard for every towel he could find. Ben took the towels from him.

“Why are we helping those fuckers after what they did to us?” Ben grumbled.

Precisely
, thought Wig. “Because we’re decent people.”

He handed out towels to the elderly couple and then the others who had shed wet outer garments over the radiators. Ghuram introduced the two other middle-aged men as his cousins, waiters at the restaurant.

Wig vaguely remembered meeting them when they’d gone for a meal there as invited guests, just after the Sawars had moved in. They accepted the towels with muttered thanks, but Wig noticed neither of them met his eyes.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked. “Ben and Steve will take your order.”

“Black tea for me and Dad, coffee for the boys, and Mum likes fruit teas.”

Steve brought over the boxes for her to choose. She picked out a peppermint tea with a trembling hand, and Wig noticed she was shaking quite violently.

“Your mum and dad need to get out of those wet clothes before they get ill,” Wig said. “I can bring clothes for them both.”

“They can’t change here.” Ghuram sounded horrified.

“If you want them in hospital, then fine, otherwise they need to change.”

“She’ll never agree.”

“Convince her. It’s important. I lost my Grammy to pneumonia. I know what I’m talking about.”

Ghuram stared at him and then nodded. He spoke to his mother, who looked as horrified as Ghuram and threw her hands up, her rapid-fire speech needing no translation. Ghuram pointed at Wig, and she looked at him, something like sympathy in her eyes.