Morriston was the destination, of course.
Angus leaned close to his partner again. ‘Want to know something weird? I was planning to visit Morriston in the next week or two.’
Tom’s eyebrows disappeared into the black balaclava covering his head. ‘What on earth for?’
Good question. Angus hadn’t even told his best mate that he’d finally got over himself and made enquiries at the emergency department of Christchurch’s biggest hospital in order to find out exactly where Fliss had taken herself off to when she’d walked out of his life.
Would he really have followed through on his intention to go and see her? To risk rejection again if she was still happy with the way things now were?
It didn’t matter now. It didn’t matter that the thrill of a big job unfolding had failed to capture Angus. The only thing uppermost in his mind was fear and the notion of shining a torch on that fear and making it shrink by exposure was too tempting to resist.
‘Fliss is there.’
It seemed incongruous to be shouting something that touched such a private part of his soul but there was no danger of anyone other than Tom hearing. And he was the only one who would recognise the significance of the statement. He deserved to know that Angus had a personal agenda on this job. And Tom would know exactly how significant that agenda might be. He’d seen how devastating it had been to have Fliss walk out like that. He’d had to work with Angus in the weeks when despair and anger had vied for a controlling position in mood determination.
‘No way!’ Tom looked shocked. ‘I thought you said she’d gone up north.’
‘I thought she had. I never bothered asking for a specific forwarding address until a few days ago.’
‘Why the hell would she go to a place like Morriston?’
‘Guess she wanted something a bit different.’
Tom shook his head. ‘That’s not different. It’s a total cop-out.’ He glanced at Angus. ‘You sure she’s there right now?’
‘As far as I know.’
‘You worried, mate?’
Angus could say nothing. He could only set his lips into a grim line and look away from the concern on Tom’s face.
Of course he was worried.
Worried sick.
Why hadn’t he tried earlier to find Fliss? To contact her? To see if he could find a way to persuade her to come home?
To arrive like this wasn’t going to help anything. His bullet-proof vest and dark camouflage clothing would only remind Fliss of why she had left in the first place.
But that didn’t actually matter right now. The need to find and protect the only woman he had ever truly loved was an issue quite separate from the possibility of them ever getting back together. It was simply something that Angus had to do.
He clenched his fists, urging the helicopter on into the black night. Not that willpower was going to make them get there any quicker but at least it felt like he was doing something.
Before it was too late.
EVEN important decisions could sometimes be made purely by default.
Fliss knew she couldn’t, in all conscience, choose to stay safely hidden but the sporadic sound of continuing gunfire made her postpone any move from the relative safety of Jack’s now darkened kitchen.
She sat on the floor near the interior door and Jack sat beside her just under the telephone. Waiting for the next, still shocking, evidence of what was going on outside, they strained to hear anything that might warn of danger getting too close.
And in the eerie, waiting silence between gunshots, Fliss was all too aware of the sound of Jack’s breathing. It sounded worse than it had when she had arrived for her home visit but that was hardly surprising, given the level of stress they had both been plunged into.
‘Where are your pills, Jack?’
‘On the window-sill. Just above the electric kettle. That way I remember to take them when I make a cuppa, first thing.’
‘Did you take one this morning?’
‘Yep.’
‘I want you to take another one now,’ Fliss instructed. ‘I’ll get it for you.’ But she found a hand on her elbow, dragging her back to the floor as soon as she tried to get to her feet.
‘You stay right where you are, lass. I’ll get it for myself.’
With a grunt that revealed the effort involved, Jack pushed himself slowly upright. With the ease of familiarity, he negotiated a route past the spindle-backed chairs towards the bench more successfully than Fliss would have managed, but a chair got nudged and scraped on the wooden floorboards all the same. Fliss felt her heart skip a beat and then start to race alarmingly.
She forced herself to take a deep breath in through her nose. And then she let it out slowly.
There was no avoiding the situation they were in. Somehow she had to get a grip on herself and deal with it or she would be no use to anyone, including herself. The notion that she might be paralysed by a panic attack was almost as abhorrent as the violence going on in Morriston.
She was not like her mother. She was not about to choose to become a victim—of her own emotions or anyone else’s behaviour.
‘Jack?’
‘Yep?’
‘Do you keep your spray with your pills?’
‘You mean that stuff for if I get chest pain?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t need it.’
‘It’s not just for angina, Jack. It might help quite a bit with that breathlessness you’ve got at the moment.’ Jack’s blood pressure had been high enough to tolerate the potential lowering effect nitrates could have. ‘I want you to take two sprays under your tongue.’
‘Hmmph!’ She could hear Jack shaking a container of tablets. ‘I’ll take the extra pill and see how I go.’
‘No. Take the spray.’ Fliss scrambled upright. ‘I’m going to have to go down to my surgery, Jack. I don’t want to be worrying about you getting worse while I’m gone.’
The lid of the plastic container hit the bench with a rattle. ‘You’re not going out there!’
‘I have to, Jack!’ Fliss straightened her back to reinforce the determination in her tone. ‘You know how we saw one of the Johnston twins hiding under that bush? What if he’s not hiding?’ Concern tightened her voice. ‘What if he’s hurt and needs help
