I was worried that they’d just go ahead and do it, and as soon as one of them put their weight on the ropes I wouldn’t be able to stop them. So, when we got hold of the second bag, I cut the rope.’
He grinned. ‘I couldn’t see Mimi letting you haul a bag over and staying put herself on the other side. Nice job.’
Cass supposed she might as well tell him everything; he’d hear it soon enough. ‘Not such a nice job. I miscalculated and the rope snapped back in their direction. Another few feet and it would have taken Mimi’s head off.’
‘It was...what, thirty feet across the river?’
‘About that.’
‘Weight of the bags...’ He was obviously doing some kind of calculation in his head. ‘Wouldn’t have taken her head off. Maybe given her a bit of a sting.’
‘Well, it frightened the life out of me. And what’s-his-name...’
‘Rafe...’
‘Yeah, Rafe tackled her to the ground.’
Jack snorted with laughter. ‘Oh, I’ll bet she just loved that. Rafe always was a bit on the protective side where Mimi’s concerned.’
‘She didn’t seem too pleased about it. What is it with those two? Light the blue touchpaper?’
‘Yeah and stand a long way back.’ Jack was still chuckling. ‘Shame, really. They’re both good people, but put them within fifty feet of each other and they’re a disaster. Always will be.’
‘I know the feeling...’ All too well. Only Cass would be a disaster with any man. She’d never quite been able to move on from what Paul had said and done, never been able to shake the belief that he was right. She’d felt her heart close, retreating wounded from a world that had been too painful to bear.
He didn’t reply. As Jack bent to finish arranging the ropes so they’d dry out properly, Cass couldn’t help noticing the strong lines of his body, the ripple of muscle. That didn’t just happen; it must have taken some hard work and training.
‘So you’re a mountaineer?’
He shook his head, not looking at her. ‘No. My father. It’s not something I’d ever consider doing.’
That sounded far too definite not to be a thought-out decision. ‘Too risky?’ Somehow Cass doubted that; Jack had just braved a flood to get here.
‘There’s risk and risk. My father died when I was twelve, free climbing. Anyone with an ounce of sanity would have used ropes for that particular climb, but he went for the adrenaline high. He always did.’ The sudden bitter anger in Jack’s voice left Cass in no doubt about his feelings for his father.
‘I’m really sorry...’
He straightened up. ‘Long time ago. It was one of the things that made me want to go into frontline medicine. Going out on a limb to save a life has always seemed to me to be a much finer thing than doing it for kicks.’
‘And of course we both calculate the risks we take pretty carefully.’ Cass wondered whether Jack knew that the current calculation was all about him. She wanted to know more about the man who was responsible for Lynette’s safety, to gauge his weaknesses.
He nodded. ‘Yeah. Needs a cool head, not a hot one.’
Good answer. Cass turned to the door. ‘Shall we go and see whether there’s any more tea going?’
* * *
They collected their tea from an apparently unending supply in the kitchen, and Jack followed Cass as she dodged the few steps into the back of the church building. She led him along a maze of silent corridors and through a doorway, so small that they both had to duck to get through it.
They were in a closed porch. Arched wooden doors led through to the church on one side and on the other a second door was secured by heavy metal bolts. Tall, stone-framed windows, glazed in a diamond pattern of small pieces of glass, so old that they were almost opaque. A gargoyle, perched up in a corner, grinned down at them.
‘I reckoned you might like to drink your tea in peace.’ She reached up to switch on a battery-operated lantern, which hung from one of the stone scrolls which flanked the doorway. ‘Martin’s lent me this place for the duration. I come here to think.’
It looked more like somewhere to hide than think. Jack wondered why she should need such a place when she was clearly surrounded by family and friends here. She seemed so involved with her community, so trusted, and yet somehow she held herself apart from it.
All the same, for some reason she’d let him in and it felt like too much of a privilege to question it. Jack took his jacket off and sat down on one of the stone benches that ran the length of the porch. She proffered a cushion, from a pile hidden away in an alcove in the corner, and he took it gratefully.
‘You’ve made yourself at home here. It’s warm as well. And oddly peaceful.’ Jack looked around. Listening to the storm outside, rather than struggling against it, made the old walls seem like a safe cocoon.
‘I like it. These stones are so thick it’s always the same temperature, winter or summer.’ She laid her coat out on the bench and smoothed her half-dried hair behind her ears.
‘Makes a good refuge.’ He smiled, in an indication that she could either take the observation seriously or pass it off as a joke if she chose.
‘Yeah. You should ask Martin about that; he’s a bit of a history buff. Apparently there was an incident during the English Civil War when Cavaliers claimed refuge here. They camped out in this porch for weeks.’
Fair enough. So she didn’t want to talk about it.
‘I’d like you to stay with Lynette tonight, at the vicarage. Keep an eye on her.’
She nodded. ‘I don’t have much choice. My house is a little way downriver from the bridge. It was partially flooded even before this afternoon.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Cass leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her. ‘I’ve been expecting it for days and at least I had a chance to get everything upstairs, which is a lot more than some people have had. It’s my own stupid fault, anyway.’
‘So you’re the one, are you? That’s been making it rain.’
She really was stunningly beautiful when she smiled. Warm and beautiful, actually, with a touch of vulnerability that belied her matter-of-fact attitude and her capable do-anything frame. But she seemed far too ready to blame herself when things went wrong.
‘I wish. Then I could make it stop. The house has been in my family for generations and it’s always been safe from flooding.’
‘But not on your watch?’ Jack realised he’d hit a nerve from the slight downward quirk of her lips.
‘There used to be a drystone wall, banked up on the inside, which acted as a barrier between the house and the river. My grandparents levelled a stretch of it to give easy access to build an extension at the back. When they died they
