‘Marcus!’ A teen dressed in overalls headed at speed towards him, her blonde ponytail swinging. She launched herself against his chest and hugged him. ‘We were worried about you. When you didn’t turn up here we thought...’
‘I’m fine, Gemma. Are you all right? I heard what you and Blake did—you are both incredible.’
‘Thank you. We figured it’s what you would have done.’
April saw his quickly camouflaged wince, but Gemma continued blithely on.
‘If you’d been here. Where were you?’
‘Stranded on an island,’ he explained. ‘But right now it looks like there’s work to do.’
Gemma nodded. ‘Blake and I and some of the others have set up the centre as a makeshift shelter for those whose homes have been destroyed, but obviously we have to make sure it’s safe. We’re also really missing Mia in the kitchen, because people need food. So many of the buildings here didn’t stand up to the storm—there are lots of people who have lost everything.’
Marcus nodded. ‘You’re doing a fabulous job, Gemma.’
‘Thank you. But I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Thanks to April we have some provisions with us, and—’
‘If you like I can take over kitchen duty until Mia gets back.’
The words had come out before April had even realised she would utter them. For a second she wanted to call them back, her instincts telling her not to get involved. She observed life—she didn’t participate.
Yet Marcus’s words echoed in her brain. ‘You have to live your life to the best of your ability.’
‘Really?’ Gemma’s face lit up. ‘Can you cook?’
‘Yes. I can. I’m happy to try and sort out the food donations and then work out what we need and ways to pass excess stuff on before it goes out of date. I’ll talk to Mia as well. If you could give me some helpers, I’ll get the food we do have stored safely and get started.’
‘And I’ll organise an official safety check,’ Marcus said.
April nodded and headed towards the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in, directing the four youths allocated to her by Gemma.
It was a good couple of hours before Marcus entered the kitchen, his face dirt-streaked, his dark hair unkempt—he looked utterly gorgeous and her idiotic heart did a funny little leap.
‘If you’re ready, we could go to the hospital now?’
‘Perfect. Thank you, everyone. I’ll be back tomorrow at about six a.m.’
There was some good-natured moaning, but all four teenagers promised to turn up to help.
Once in the car, Marcus glanced sideways at her. ‘This is good of you, but it’s nothing to do with
your actual job. How will you manage the time?’
‘Kathy will understand that my deadlines need to be flexible.’ In truth, oddly enough, she didn’t care if her editor didn’t understand. ‘I can rearrange anything in my diary. This is more important.’
Five years before a storm had played its part in the wreckage of her life. Without the torrential rain it was possible that, despite his intoxicated state, Dean wouldn’t have crashed the car. Now she was in a position to help, in however small a way. Help others whose lives had been devastated. She wanted to do that.
‘It’s the least I can do. Some of those teens have lost so much, and yet they are still thinking about others. How bad is it elsewhere?’
‘I’ve spoken with Frederick. He’s in the lower district, helping the emergency services evacuate a building with about twenty trapped in it. And Sunita’s set up a nursery/childcare centre at the palace.’
The car soon pulled up at the hospital, and they entered the slightly dilapidated building. But April noted that whilst the décor might lack style it was scrupulously clean, and the staff had an energised, competent air that signalled reassurance.
A nurse directed them to Mia’s ward and ushered them to her bed. She was sitting up, with Charlie next to her, and April’s step faltered, despite the fact that she should have been prepared for this.
‘Marcus.’ Mia’s face lit up, and so too did her son’s.