‘Yeah.’ He unfolded his arms. Bess was back around his legs. ‘It kind of gets you that way.’ His voice had softened.
‘I’m sorry. I would have stayed somewhere else if I could have afforded it.’ She didn’t know why she felt she had to justify staying here.
‘It’s okay. It’s fine. Bess is pleased to see you, anyhow.’ He didn’t add that he was.
Agh, this was so awkward. She’d invaded his private space, his place to get away. She wished she hadn’t come now. Her being here obviously affected him more than she’d thought it might. It was so hard to stand here and be polite and keep a distance. Next time she’d save up and get a caravan down the coast, or stay at a little B&B. But somehow that seemed too sad – not to be here in her cottage by the sea.
Ed watched her. He was trying to smile, but she couldn’t work out what he was thinking. He just stood there, looking so uncomfortable in the garden where he’d set out candles for her, where he’d made his gorgeous barbeque, talked and laughed with her. She wondered what had been on his mind back then? Was he thinking of his wife all evening, feeling guilty? Was it the first time he’d been with anyone since her death? Did it feel like a betrayal? Or something he had to get through? Tick the box – he’d done it, had sex with someone else. Got it over with.
‘Right, well,’ she said, trying to lift her voice with a breeziness she really wasn’t feeling. ‘I’d better be getting on in. I’ve walked six miles – I’m feeling a bit tired now.’ Actually a hot bath was calling.
‘Okay.’ You could see he felt let off the hook. ‘See you, then.’
‘Bye, Bess.’ The dog had nipped back to her side again, sharing allegiance. She ruffled the soft, silky black fur of her head. Claire lifted her gaze to Ed’s. ‘See you.’ Not tomorrow, not later. She gave a gentle smile. Felt a weight inside. Wanted to lift all their hurts like a huge bunch of balloons and throw them up into the sky, watch them drift away so they could start afresh. Simple. Just Ed and Claire, two people who had no past, no hurts. Just two people.
She turned to walk away, then paused, looking over her shoulder. ‘Thanks …’
His brow furrowed. ‘What for?’
‘For coming to explain that day. For finding me.’ She knew in her heart she had to at least say that much. Understanding what had happened that night had meant a lot.
‘No worries.’ He gave a nod and a hint of a smile. ‘Enjoy your break.’
‘Thank you.’
And she was determined to.
After her bath, she decided to head to Seahouses for a supper of fish and chips. She sat in a little café with a plate of salt-and-vinegared delights. Crispy-battered, soft, flaky white fish, freshly made chips. She’d taken her book in case she felt awkward on her own, but was quite content watching a family tuck in opposite and listening to their friendly banter, and then an old couple came in and sat on the table beside her. They were evidently enjoying themselves too, chatting away. When they got up to leave, the elderly gentleman brought the lady’s coat from the stand, held the door for her, and then took her hand as they walked away along the pavement. They must have been husband and wife, Claire mused – married for many years. They must have held hands so many times. It made her smile.
Later on, back at the cottage, she sank into a second bath of scented bubbles. The hot water tank, by some miracle, hadn’t failed her this time, providing her with a second full and hot tubful. She lay looking at her scar, which she realized didn’t frighten her any more. The reconstruction had given her boob a nice shape that pretty much matched the other side. True, the lack of a nipple appeared somewhat odd, as did the long scar, but she’d grown used to it. She didn’t want to be messed about with any more, didn’t want any more unnecessary ops, though she’d heard of new nipples being made from skin elsewhere on your body, somehow twisted into shape, or tattooed on – the wonders of technology. But for now that wasn’t for her.
After the bath, she sat reading her book, listening to music. She wandered up the drive to get some signal to text her mum and Sal to let them know she was fine and enjoying her break. She’d been lucky with the weather today. The wet stuff was coming in tomorrow by the sounds of it – she’d caught a forecast on the radio earlier. But that would give her the chance to write up her next article for the Herald and a quick ‘Magic Moments’ blog ready for next week. The column was still doing well on the website, though it was no longer in the main printed paper, and she was still getting regular feedback. She remembered the list she’d jotted down back in June. She’d been using it as a bookmark since – she slid it out from the pages of her latest novel and held it in her hand. All those moments she’d longed for, many of which she’d now achieved:
A sea view and sunshine on her face.
Time with her family – her sister and the boys, Mum. She felt even closer to them all now.
Tea and cake with friends – yes, with Andrea in Café 9, and several times since.
Hearing the sound of children’s laughter – many times, and it always made her smile.
A hot, deep bubbly bath – oh, yes, lots of those.
What else had she written? Ah yes, losing yourself in a great book. (This afternoon and before!) That was easy.
A hug – several, including a surprise one from Dragon Julia at work. And the ones from Ed had been pretty damned special. She so hoped he’d be okay. Her heart gave a little tug.
A chilled glass of wine on a summer’s day. Yes, she remembered sitting chatting with Lynda out the back there, overlooking the beach, white wine and friendship, a perfect combination.
The smell and taste of freshly baked bread – well, a whole new delicious hobby had grown from that one.
A small deed to help someone else – they’d done the crazily muddy Race for Life, which would hopefully help lots of people, and she’d helped that teenager, Reece, with his own charity publicity. She’d been very happy recently to hear that he was now in remission. And she would keep looking out for others, finding ways to help if she could.
And, she wouldn’t forget to keep enjoying the simple things in life, to be grateful for every day, every moment she had, and to live them one magic moment at a time.
Her column had grown and all those other lovely magic moments sent in by her readers filled her thoughts too – special places, a favourite walk, meeting a new grandchild for the first time. She was proud of her column. And she would make every day count. Winter was on its way, autumn already here, but she could still find calm, feel the sun on her face, wrap herself up and go for a walk, enjoy the log fire, a mug of soup, a hot chocolate piled with cream and marshmallows. In fact, she could whizz up some soup for lunch tomorrow before heading back – leek and potato was calling. Served with the rest of Lynda’s deli bread – scrummy. Then, after she got back to Newcastle, where her flat was starting to feel more like home, it would be the Christmas season soon enough – woolly jumpers, giftwrap and bows, cinnamon scents, gaudy lights in the city centre, crowded shops. Life rolled on.
She felt tired this evening; the walk really had taken it out of her a bit. But it was a nice tired, an exercise-type tired. She went up to bed with a cup of camomile tea beside her, and couldn’t help but think about the man next door. And yes, although it had been a little awkward with Ed earlier, it was kind of nice knowing he was just there. She sent him a mental hug, whispered ‘Night, Ed’, then drifted into a restful sleep.
She thought she was dreaming at first. The sound of barking and barking, with a whiny pitch that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She bolted up in bed, startled. It didn’t seem that far away. She registered the grey early-morning light at the window, got up, shoved on her dressing gown and ran out on to the balcony with wobbly legs that were trying to acclimatize to the sudden start.
The sound was coming from next door. Bess, it had to be Bess. But where was Ed? The dog didn’t normally bark, she’d only ever heard a pleasant ‘ruff’ in greeting. She shoved on her slippers and dashed
down the stairs, running out across the drive. The barking was frantic, getting louder as she neared Ed’s house. She was halfway across the drive when she noticed the weather – the winds had really picked up. One of Ed’s plant pots had toppled, leaving a small shrub strewn on its side. It began to spit with rain.
Claire got to the door of the other cottage. Heard the scrabbling of claws against the inner wood. It wasn’t locked. She poked her head in, shouting ‘Ed? Ed?’, to be blasted by a powerful black lurch of fur and legs bounding past her for the beach. The beach. Claire turned – the waves were pounding the shoreline. Her soul chilled. Clothes. Dammit, she hadn’t thought to look out from her balcony. Were there clothes on the beach? Bess was running straight for a little mound of something further away on the sands. Oh fuck.
What time was it? How long had she slept? She glanced at her watch. Eight fifteen. He usually went out just after dawn, and yesterday that was around seven o’clock. Oh God, if he’d been in the water that long …
And the water – this wasn’t the usual waves, the gentle surf. This sea was mean and dark and menacing. She felt sick.
She ran out of his house, up the dunes. She might see better from there. Nothing, nothing, bloody nothing, just the boil of surf – even the sea birds had disappeared. They knew better than to be out on a day like this. Why the hell had he even thought of going swimming? Was he really out there? Or was the mound just something washed in on the tides, an old coat or blanket or something? But Bess’s reaction …
She’d been wasting precious seconds. She had to phone for help, right now. Get the coastguard or whoever out. Why the fuck hadn’t she thought of bringing her phone with her?
Bess ran up to her, circling her. ‘It’s okay, Bess. I’ll get some help.’ Claire ran back to her cottage. Bess lurched off in the opposite direction back to the mound on the beach. It had to be his clothes. The dog kept looking to sea frantically, then jerking her glance to Claire, who was now distant. Still the constant barking. There was no one else around. No one mad enough to be out on a morning like this. No one to ask for help.
She ran inside, grabbed her mobile from where it was charging on the kitchen bench and ran back out. No signal as ever down by the cottages; she’d have to run back up the dunes. Her legs kept sinking in the soft sand, snagging on the roots of the spiky marram grass. Hang in there, Ed.
One bar of signal, shit. She stood still, keeping it pointed inland to the best spot. Dialled 999. The ring tone. Answer. Answer. Please.
‘Hello, which service please?’
‘Ah … coastguard, I think … and ambulance.’
‘What’s the nature of the problem?’
‘A friend, he’s in trouble, swimming … in the sea.’
‘And where is your location, madam?’
‘Bamburgh … umm … further down the beach … halfway to Seahouses?’ Why was she being so bloody vague? A landmark … something. ‘The cottages. There’s two cottages. One’s called Farne View.’
‘Okay, thanks, that’s great. And what’s your name?’
‘Claire. Claire Maxwell.’
‘Okay, Claire, please stay on the line. Don’t hang up.’
Claire prayed that her signal would hold out.
‘I’m going to put you through to the coastguard.’
‘So you say there’s someone lost at sea? A swimmer?’ A male voice took over. ‘Let me just clarify your position and the last position this person was seen. You’re at Bamburgh, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And when and where did you last see the person you believe is lost?’
‘Yesterday … but he’d have gone swimming this morning. There’s a pile of clothes on the beach. His dog’s going crazy.’
She began to think she sounded a little crazy herself. Did the guy on the end of the line think so too? Was that all the evidence she had of Ed going missing? Jeez, what if Ed had just popped to the dunes for a call of nature or something? Was about to come sauntering out as she had the HM Coastguard scrambling. But she knew in her gut something was wrong, just like Bess did.
And worse, a horrible creeping thought seized her mind. What if he’d wanted to go missing? To just vanish at sea. Let it all end.
She pulled herself together. ‘He would have gone swimming just after seven, I think. From the beach where I am now.’
‘Okay, keep this line open. We may need it to help locate your position on the beach. I’ll contact the lifeboat and rescue-helicopter service immediately.’
The line was open, but no one was talking. She stood fixed to the spot, not daring to move in case she lost signal. She scanned the tumult that was the sea. Still no sign. No arc of arm, dark length of body. It would be hard to tell in those waters anyhow. He was fit and healthy, she reminded herself. He knew that sea, swam every day he was here. He’d swum for county, he’d told her. In a swimming pool, you tit, she realized. Stay strong, Ed.
Bess appeared beside her, nuzzled her hand. She patted the dog’s head absent-mindedly. ‘Okay, girl.’ Claire was soaked to the skin now, her towelling robe heavy with rain, weighing her down. Stood there dripping in a dressing gown in the dunes. Her ear pressed to her mobile, just in case. And all they could do was wait.
31
Make the most of every day, every moment
Seconds hung like hours. Please God, please let him be okay. Whatever shitty life he’d had so far, he deserved his second chance, his future. He deserved some happiness. Her face was wet with rain and tears. Bess was beating a steady track to and from the beach, via his clothes.
Suddenly, there was something there bobbing in the waves. A dark torso shape. It didn’t look good, tossed about, directionless. Ah, shit, shit, no. Her world felt like it was falling apart. No. Should she run to it, forget about the mobile signal? But then she looked closer. Bess wasn’t bothered by it, and Claire realized she was focusing on a log that must have been swept out, then brought back in on the rough seas.
The weather was dismal. Heavy drops of rain were coming down on her now. He must have got into trouble, must still be out there. Maybe it had been fine early this morning, and it just came in all of a sudden. She’d seen herself how the rain clouds could gather on the horizon, then sheet forward in a solid mass. You could see it advancing over the sea, an inky-grey shimmering wall. What if he wasn’t strong enough to keep afloat? What if, right now, the sea was pulling him down – too cold, too tired to fight any more.
‘Ed!’ his name bolted from her lips, shouted across the dunes, across the sea.
And still the rain, the wind, whipping up the waves.
A loud burr of an engine, the mechanical chopping of rotor blades, startled her. Right over her flew a yellow helicopter, stirring up the sands, shooting grit into her eyes, lifting her hair from its roots. Thank God. At least they were here, they were looking.
She waved frantically. She needed to let them know they were had the right place.
And then a voice, tinny on her phone, hardly audible for the whirr of the helicopter. It sounded like the man she had last spoken with. ‘The air–sea helicopter has located you, Claire. There’s also a lifeboat launched. They are searching thoroughly. Please stay on the line. Okay?’
‘Yes. Yes, will do.’ Find him. Go find him.
‘And Claire, you’re doing great, just try and stay calm. They’re doing everything they can.’
‘Thank you.’ That line of communication warmed her for a second; the thread to humanity, compassion. Then it went quiet once more.
She watched the helicopter move out to sea, then turn to fly parallel with the coast, first north, then south, back towards her. She thought she could make out a boat coming into view from the right side of the bay. Bess was back near her side, fretful after the roar of the helicopter, the poor dog pacing in figures of eight.
Even if they did find him, what would they find?
She stopped herself thinking that way, just stood, watching, every nerve taut in her body.
Time seemed to stand still as the helicopter circled, then went up and down again, parallel with the shoreline. Then it seemed to hover, and almost pause. Something had been thrown down, a line? Had they found something? Had they found him?
‘Miss Maxwell … Claire?’ The chap was shouting down the phone like he’d been trying before.
Something was happening out at sea. Someone coming out from the helicopter, on a winch or something.
‘Yes … yes.’
‘They’ve located him, madam.’
‘Is he okay?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have that information as yet. But they have definitely located a man at sea.’
‘Thank you.’ She noticed that she was shaking all over.
He had said ‘man’ not ‘body’, surely that was good. Wasn’t it?
‘You may now close the line.’
‘Uh, ah … wait … do you know where they’ll be taking him?’
‘The rescue helicopter usually goes to the RVI in Newcastle, madam. That’s the Royal Victoria Infirmary.’
‘Oh …’
‘It’s okay to hang up now, Claire.’
‘Oh, okay, thank you.’ She still felt stunned, dread paralysing her.
‘You’re welcome.’ And the gentleman closed the line himself.
So she could leave the dunes. She went to the wet pile of clothes, his clothes. Bundled them up.
‘Are you okay, pet? Can we help?’ The couple who’d been watching approached her.
‘Ah … it’s okay. They’ve found him … There was a man at sea … they’ve found him.’
‘You’re drenched, lass, and cold, no doubt. We have a car just across the dunes at the roadside. Can we take you somewhere?’
‘Thank you, but I’m from the cottages just here. I’ll get back there now. Thank you.’
My Summer of Magic Moments Page 22
