by T A Williams
Dinner with Danny the previous night had been most enjoyable. After the bombshell that he did not, after all, have a live-in girlfriend, she had settled down to enjoy the food and his company. Even if either of them had wanted it to become an intimate soirée à deux, it would have been impossible. A succession of old friends, fans and fellow competitors came along to shake his hand, smile at her, take photos and discuss the next day’s racing. Among them was the man he later described as his closest rival.
‘Klaus Dietrich and I go way back. He and I have been competing against each other since we were teenagers.’ In spite of that, Alice had seen the two of them hug each other like brothers. She commented on it afterwards. His reply had been immediate. ‘He’s probably the closest thing to a brother that I’ve got. I just don’t get to see him very often these days. Going all over the world with him, we were bound to either end up as close friends or sworn enemies.’ He grinned at her. ‘A few of the others fall into the latter category!’
As a succession of former colleagues and rivals came by, she soon realised that the overriding topic of conversation, logically enough, was the wind. Up till then, her only knowledge of the Beaufort scale had come from occasionally hearing bits of the shipping forecast on Radio 4. She had vague memories of hearing names like Fisher, Dogger and German Bight, but little comprehension of what it all meant. Danny had done his best to explain and now, at least, she knew that anything less than a force three was useless, force four to six good, force seven or eight excellent and anything above that awesome. “Awesome”, she soon realised, was a much overused adjective in windsurfing circles. And numerous times that evening it was applied to her companion at the dinner table.
As she walked down the path by the river towards the beach, she did her best to assess the strength of the wind. Her hair was being blown about, but she was not finding it hard to walk into the wind. Presumably this meant it was not useless, but far from awesome. She giggled to herself as she saw two young men jog past with that very word emblazoned across their chest. Today’s racing had better be awesome, she told herself.
After dinner, Danny had driven her home but, upon arrival at Duck Cottage, he had refused her offer of coffee on the grounds that he had promised to get to bed early. ‘I’m an old fart now, you see. I need my beauty sleep.’
He certainly did not look like an old man and, for just about the first time, she found herself considering him as something more than just good old Danny. She had enjoyed his company that evening and had found the adulation he was receiving unexpectedly stimulating. So, when he turned to leave, she found it remarkably natural to catch his hand, pull him back towards her and kiss him. This time, after kissing him on both cheeks, she added a soft kiss to his lips.
She had not slept well that night. This was not necessarily the fault of the crab ravioli with shellfish bisque, pink grapefruit and ginger, or even the wild bass with cauliflower, lemon thyme and cumin velouté. It could not be blamed on alcohol, as she had drunk remarkably little. Even the dark chocolate and passion fruit fondant could not take all the responsibility, nor the coffee she made herself after he had left. The problem lay within her brain. How could it be, she found herself wondering, that she had only just discovered this handsome, modest, strong, but also remarkably kind and gentle man? She had worked alongside him for five years, but it was only now that she was seeing him in a totally different light. Good old Danny had morphed into something very, very different.
As she came out of the shelter of the trees onto the promenade, she felt a powerful gust of wind. She looked up. The flags were streaming out from the poles. It very much looked as if the wind was going to be awesome after all. The sea wall was already thick with spectators, watching the youth competition that was in full swing. She caught glimpses of brightly-coloured sails out in the bay. The waves were pounding the beach and the surfers out in the open sea were often enveloped in spray and foam. She walked down to the main marquee. Danny had told her she would be given a pass to the main stand if she asked there and, on arriving, she was immediately seen and recognised by one of the blonde girls, from earlier in the week.
‘Hi, how was dinner?’ Her expression was one of curiosity, mixed with a new-found respect. ‘Danny came by this morning and told us to look out for you. You’re Alice, aren’t you?’
‘That’s me. And dinner was great, thanks. Awesome.’ Alice resisted the urge to giggle as she used the word. She looked around, in case Danny was still there. The blonde intercepted her glance.
‘He’s already down on the beach, maybe out on the water already. The invitation race starts straight after the juniors.’
‘Can you tell me something… Sammy?’ Alice leant closer and refreshed her memory by reading the badge on the girl’s breast. ‘What colour is his sail, or his wetsuit or whatever? How will I recognise him out there on the water?’
The girl turned and pointed over her shoulder at a huge poster that covered most of the wall space. It showed a flotilla of windsurfers in full flight. Many of the sails were made of transparent material, with just a few trade names and a big number. In first place was a black and yellow sail.
Sammy explained. ‘That’s Klaus Dietrich, the German, in the lead. Right behind him is Danny Kemp.’ The second place sail was very different. Much of it was bright orange. It was unmistakable. ‘That’s him, your Danny. He always has an awesome orange sail.’
Alice found that she quite liked the sound of “your Danny”.
‘Here, if you wear this, you can get access to the royal box.’ Sammy passed over a plastic card, hanging on a blue ribbon.
‘The royal box?’ Alice was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The girl laughed at the expression on her face.
‘It’s all right, that’s just what we call the VIPs’ and WAGs’ stand. Go up those stairs to the left. Karl will let you up once he sees the pass.’
Alice thanked her and slipped the ribbon over her head. She made for the stairs, conscious that she had just been catapulted into the wives and girlfriends category. She played with the idea for a moment. It sounded quite good. She left the marquee, and was making for the grandstand, when she came across a familiar face.
‘Hello Alice. I didn’t expect to see you here. And not with a pass to the hospitality stand!’ It was Mandy, the village gossip and Danny’s soon to be divorced wife. She was wearing windsurfing uniform – T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Her hair was hanging loose and she looked about ten years younger. Alice got a glimpse of the girl who had won Danny’s heart twenty years before. A feeling akin to jealousy raised its ugly head, but she did her best to stifle it.
‘Oh, hi there. It’s not every day we have a big occasion like this down in little old Beauchamp.’ She ignored the remark about the pass, noticing that Mandy was not wearing one.
‘Friends in high places?’ Mandy ran a hand through her hair. Her wrist was adorned with bracelets, her fingers bristling with rings. She was definitely making an effort. Alice began to wonder if this might be for Danny’s benefit. She saw that Mandy was still eyeing the ribbon and pass. She decided to stay vague.
‘Something like that. Do you windsurf? Are you here to participate?’
Mandy smiled. ‘No, I used to do a bit, but I’ve never competed. No, I’m just here for old times’ sake. I thought I’d come and look up a few old friends.’
Eager not to be interrogated any further, Alice smiled, then made her excuses and hurried off.
At the bottom of the stairs to the ‘royal box’, the security guard gave her a welcoming smile and ushered her up. The stairs led to a covered area where waiters were offering glasses of champagne to the guests. Beyond that was an observation area with tiers of seats facing the sea. A handful of people were already in position. She accepted a glass of champagne and was making her way across to the seats when she was intercepted.
‘Hi, Alice? I’m Gus. We met briefly last night. Remember me?’
She did remember him. He was a tall man with
a suntanned face and shoulder length dark hair. He had been introduced to her by Danny as something to do with UK Windsurfing. She couldn’t remember his position, but she knew it was very senior. She gave him a smile in return. ‘Yes, Gus, it’s good to see you again.’ She noticed that he was not wearing windsurfing uniform, having opted for slacks and a blazer. He grinned.
‘Sorry about the get-up. I’ve got to organise the prize-giving later and so I had to dress up. It takes a bit of getting used to.’
She laughed, liking him. ‘You look very smart. Gus, could you just fill me in on what happens out there?’ She waved in the general direction of the sea. ‘I’m a windsurfing virgin I’m afraid.’
‘My pleasure.’ He led her out onto the observation platform and talked her through the way the racing worked. Danny would be involved in racing against another thirty or so competitors around a course that stretched across the width of the bay. Gus pointed out the brightly-coloured buoys at either end, around which they would race. ‘They do three laps of the course.’
‘So, at the end of the three laps, it’s the first past the post that wins?’ He nodded. ‘And when does it start?’
‘Any minute now.’ He extended his arm. ‘The juniors have finished and you can see the big boys getting ready out by the start.’ Sure enough, Alice could clearly make out the orange sail in the midst of an apparent free-for-all of other boards, all clustered together. Gus turned back apologetically. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go off and press the flesh. Enjoy the racing. It promises to be awesome. You’ll hear the gun soon. That will signal the start.’ He gave her a smile and slipped away.
Alice noticed that the bar was emptying fast. Everybody was heading for the seats. She hastily found a space and sat down on the end of a row. Beside her was a noisy group of what sounded like Dutch people. They had managed to prise a bottle of champagne out of the barman and were putting it to good use. The red-faced man beside her grabbed her glass and filled it before she could protest.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’ She took her glass back and raised it politely in his direction. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers!’ He slid the now empty bottle under his seat and turned back to her. ‘So, who are you supporting?’ His English was very good.
‘Danny Kemp.’ She saw immediate recognition in his face. ‘He’s an old friend.’
‘Danny’s great, great. He used to be one of the very best, before the accident.’
‘The broken leg?’ He nodded. ‘Do you know how it happened?’
He looked at her as if she had just walked off a space ship. ‘Didn’t he tell you? He was trying to do a double loop, backwards. There was this thing in Maui. The sponsors were offering a load of money to the first person to do one on camera. He almost made it, but not quite. That was the same day two guys were very badly hurt. One died.’ He caught Alice’s eye. ‘Guys are still getting hurt trying that one.’
‘Oh, how awful. Thank you.’ She had no clear idea what a double back loop might be, but she could make an educated guess. It sounded crazy. Just at that moment a cannon shot echoed around the bay.
‘That’s it. They’re off.’
All eyes were riveted to the race. Alice watched as the flotilla of sails sped off parallel to the beach. Above them a helicopter hovered low. Live pictures were relayed onto the big screen on the beach and onto a smaller screen up where she was. Even with the naked eye, she was able to pick out the orange sail. At first he appeared to be back in the pack, but the helicopter showed him cutting through the opposition, and the waves.
From time to time the boards would bounce off the tops of the breakers and fly for yards. One or two crashed spectacularly. Roars from the crowd greeted every crash and every overtaking move. They streamed round the far buoy for the first time, Danny still some way down. The helicopter shots gave a good view as he clearly began to carve his way up through the boards. By the time they turned back around the start and finish buoy, he was up to fourth. By the end of the second lap he was second. In front of him was the black and yellow sail of Klaus Dietrich.
The gap between the leading boards gradually diminished until the two leaders were neck and neck, side by side. Alice could imagine the competition between the two old friends and rivals. As they turned around the end buoy for the last time and raced back towards the finish, the close-up showed both sailors leaning back almost level with the waves. Then, as they approached the finish, Danny’s orange sail edged ahead. The cannon boomed once more. He had done it.
Alice realised for the first time that she was on her feet, screaming his name. All around her and along the beach, the crowd was going mad. The big Dutchman beside her lifted her off her feet and swung her round, spraying champagne in all directions. She was still screaming. Finally he set her back down. She drank the few drops left in her glass and did her best to regain her equanimity.
‘He’s still the best.’ The Dutchman was as excited as she was.
‘So, were you here to support him too?’
‘No, but who cares? He hasn’t raced seriously for years. And yet, he’s just beaten a whole host of famous names. The man’s awesome.’
As Alice went back down the steps she saw a stand selling T-shirts. In prime position in the front row were shirts in all colours with that word on them. She couldn’t resist. She bought a grey one to match her eyes. It had been a pretty awesome afternoon, after all.
Chapter 38
Back in Woodcombe, Alice settled down at her computer. Danny the Labrador lay stretched out on the kitchen floor at her feet while she read more about the battle of the Somme. She was deep in thought when she heard a tap on the window. Danny woke up with a start, jumped to his feet and walked over to the door, tail wagging. It was Mrs Tinker’s son, Derek, from next door. Alice beckoned him in.
‘Hi, Alice. Research?’
‘Yes, about the war, but it’s so terribly, terribly depressing. Do you know, the officers told the men to walk slowly across no man’s land in formation. They knew the enemy had machine guns…’ She trailed off.
‘It beggars belief.’ Derek shook his head sadly.
Alice closed the laptop and stood up. ‘How about an espresso?’ She did her best to sound more cheerful.
‘I’d love one.’ He looked across the room at her. ‘Listen Alice, you need to know that I don’t just come round here for your coffee. All right, it’s a powerful motivator, but that’s not the only reason. By the way,’ he added with a cheeky smile, ‘if you feel like making me two cups, I won’t say no.’
She returned the smile and set to work. He sat down and stroked the dog. ‘Anyway, I came round about the cottages. I saw the three valuations. I suggest we go with the one in the middle. Does that seem fair to you?’
Alice thought it very fair and she told him so. He had another reason for coming round. ‘I was wondering if you might like to join me for dinner tonight. I’ve asked Megan the vicar and she says she’ll come along too. So, how about it? You have both been so good to my mother and me. It’s the least I can do. Of course, if you’ve got more important things to do on a Saturday night, I quite understand. Megan’s already told me she’s available because her young man can’t buy her dinner tonight. He’s gone fishing for the weekend. Now that’s a sense of priorities I can sympathise with fully.’ There was a pause. ‘But don’t tell my wife.’
‘Well let’s hope he brings her back a fish. And, yes, I’d love to come. I have no other plans for tonight. I’ve been out to dinner three times already this week and I thought I should maybe consider a night in with a stick of celery and a few leaves of lettuce.’
Derek’s face made clear what he thought about that as an option. ‘So, the King’s Arms tonight, OK? Say, eight o’clock?’
Dinner at the King’s Arms was really enjoyable. Derek and Alice spent much of the evening making fun of Megan about her man’s fishing trip. Alice told them how her date on Tuesday night with my friends call me Danny had not ended quite as she had anti
cipated, and about her decision to go back to university. Derek turned out to be a hilarious raconteur with a host of stories. By the time they reached the summer pudding and clotted cream, Alice’s ribs were hurting from laughing so much. He also told them a lot about his hunting lodge hotel, and showed them some breathtaking photos.
‘So that’s agreed, then. When you both get married you’ll come and spend your honeymoons over in Canada with Marge and me. You’ll love it and of course, Megan, there’s some great fishing right outside the door.’
‘I think Megan will be your first customer out of us two.’ Alice said, giving her a look. ‘It must be pretty serious between you and Reggie if he can take a weekend off to go fishing. He must reckon you’re hooked, as well as the fish.’
‘He’s a really, really nice man.’ Megan sounded very happy. Alice and Derek exchanged glances. ‘But I’m not so sure about being the first to tie the knot out of the two of us.’ She glanced across at Alice. ‘You’ve been very coy about telling us how your date last night with your windsurfer went.’
Now it was Alice’s turn to look embarrassed. ‘To be honest, it went really well. And you know I told you he had a girlfriend? Well, he hasn’t.’
‘Sounds like you may well have one on the end of your line, too, Alice.’ Derek looked and sounded pleased for her. ‘Just make sure he likes the idea of a few weeks in a hunting lodge before you commit. We need all the business we can get.’
Chapter 39
Sunday turned out to be fine and sunny once more, and the wind had dropped considerably. Alice chose to drive to Manor Farm, rather than walk through the village in her short tennis skirt. She wasn’t used to having so much of her legs exposed. Parking beside the Range Rover, she found Daniel Tremayne sitting on a bench, waiting for her. He gave her a big smile and held out his hands to her. She let him take them and spin her round, admiring the new skirt.
