Driftwood Read Online Free

bites… To be fair to her, though, I think she was trying to help you.”
    â€œI know.” Thomas drew a deep breath and managed not to flinch out from under Summers’ hands as he pulled a wide strip of plaster from the kit and smoothed it into place on his shoulder. “She’s a good girl.”
    Raising his head, he was about to wonder where she was—then saw her, regally seated by Summers’ side. He hadn’t seen her jump in. He found he was mildly chagrined. Belle was almost as mistrustful of strangers as himself, another reason, along with her good manners, why he had chosen her. Now she was looking down her long grizzled nose at Summers, in evident approval. A little silence fell. It was not awkward, stitched through as were most Land’s End silences with seagull cries and wave song, but Thomas felt a strain on his nerves. It had been a long time since he had spoken properly to someone who was not a patient, and longer than he could remember since he had been touched.
    Flynn Summers was smiling at him. Distantly, reluctantly, Thomas noted his beauty, like a half-remembered echo from another world. “Well,” he said hoarsely. “If you’re really okay…”
    Summers got stiffly to his feet. “Yes.” He shook the sand out of the rug, folded it and handed it back. “I mustn’t take up more of your time. Thank you, Dr. Penrose.”
    Thomas considered letting him hold on to the formality. He felt, unreasonably, that he needed the distance. But that would leave him stuck with Lieutenant Summers , and he’d given and received enough military titles to last him a lifetime. He put out a hand, remembering with shame that he hadn’t been gracious enough to accept the other man’s gesture before. “It’s Thomas.”
    â€œFlynn. And I’ll bear in mind what you said, about risking other people’s lives.”
    â€œOh.” Detaching his hand from the strong grip enclosing it, Thomas flickered him an uneasy smile. “I tore your head off, didn’t I? Sorry. I was going to say, if you’re all right, can I give you a lift back to your car? Where are you parked?”
    â€œNo need. I’m just round the back of the café.” Summers looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled, and said suddenly, startling them both a little, “Penrose, eh? Proper Cornish.”
    Thomas smiled too, for the first time broadly. “Born and bred. You?”
    Before Flynn could answer, pattering footsteps on the seafront pavement beyond the car park made both of them look up. A plump, pink-faced woman in her late forties was jogging up the slope towards them, progress impeded by oversized carpet slippers. “Thomas!” she cried, waving frantically. “Oh, Tom. I thought I saw your car. Please will you come and talk to Victor? He’s been in that damn boathouse for three days. He won’t come out.” Halting a few yards away, she looked the doctor up and down, her broad, kind face folding up in concern. “Oh my God, Tom. Has there been an accident?”
    â€œEr… No. At least…we’re all right. I’ll come straight down.” He turned to Flynn. “Sorry. I have to go.”
    â€œCourse. Is there anything I can do?”
    Thomas surveyed him. Flynn looked subtly different, for all he was still damp and bleeding. Thomas wondered if this was his professional mask, the one his rescued fishermen and capsized tourists saw. He was impressed with how thoroughly he had assumed it, erasing all trace of the slightly gauche young man who had just needed rescue himself. Ready for action. Just for an instant, Thomas let himself imagine how it would be to avail himself of the offer. Flynn looked solid, capable. What would it be like, not to have to go in and face poor Victor alone?
    But Victor was wreckage from Thomas’s own old war, not Flynn’s. And all of Thomas’s