A Dedicated Man

THREE

‘That’s scotched work for today,’ Jack Barker punned weakly as he accepted his third refill from Penny. It was over two hours since they had seen the wreckage of Sally Lumb tumble down the valley side. Penny had stopped after her second drink, but Barker was still at it.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ Penny warned him.

‘It’s already too late. Thanks for your concern, though.’

When Penny looked down at Barker, she felt the stirring of something like love. Whatever it was, the feeling disoriented her and she was angry with herself for not knowing what to do. Though it had felt good at first when they had come back to the cottage and he had held her, she hated the feelings of weakness that came with it. She knew that her feelings for him were not platonic, but instead of reaching out, she drew in and strengthened her shell.

Barker seemed to sense something of her chaotic emotions, she thought, when he reached out again for her hand, which she allowed him to hold lightly.

‘I suppose I always did have a weak stomach,’ he said. ‘Pathetic really, isn’t it? Here I am writing about blood and guts for a living and as soon as I see…’ His words trailed off and he started to shake. He put his glass on the table, spilling some Scotch as he did so. Then Penny sat beside him and held him. It seemed ages to her before either of them moved, and each would have said the other broke away first.

‘You should get some sleep, Jack,’ Penny said softly.

‘What the hell’s going on, Penny?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening to this place?’

‘I don’t know,’ Penny answered, stroking his hair. ‘At least, I. ..’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Or maybe nothing. I don’t know. But it’s got to stop.’