Jules’s mouth fell open. Not only was Danny outside her house at a ridiculously early hour, but he also was freshly shaven and smelling of soap and something lemony rather than drink – and the uninjured part of his face was smiling at her. A black beanie hat perched jauntily on his golden head and his lean body was dressed in trendy sports gear. Morgan, clutching a sophisticated digital camera, was standing beside him and snapping away merrily. Jules felt a bit like Julia Roberts’s character in Notting Hill being faced by the press pack – except that Jules was much fatter and far more horrified than a gorgeous Hollywood A-lister.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“And a good morning to you too, Vicar!” replied Danny. His good eye was the same bright blue as the sea that churned endlessly in the distance behind his right shoulder, and his generous mouth was curling upwards into a grin. “Fancy a walk on the cliffs? Morgan and I thought we’d come and show you the beauty of God’s glorious creation on this lovely morning.”
“God doesn’t exist.” Morgan was too busy fiddling with his camera to look up. “Fact.”
“Not fact, mate. That’s just your belief,” said Danny. “There’s no evidence either way – isn’t that right, Vicar? Which is where faith comes in; we have to have faith sometimes, don’t we? Even if it doesn’t come easy,” he added calmly, ruffling his son’s hair but still looking at Jules. “Somebody told me that, and quite recently too, I think. Having faith, believing in something, is important. Wouldn’t you agree, Vicar?”
Morgan ducked his head away and continued to twiddle with the camera. He was completely absorbed, Jules noticed, and would no doubt be able to give Mario Testino a run for his money in no time at all.
“My dad says you can help him,” said Morgan. He looked up. “Can you?”
Jules stared back at Danny, whose gaze was unflinching. Hearing her words lobbed back at her from a man whose dreadful injuries were even more marked in the clean early light, and when he wasn’t drunk, made her stomach knot with shame. Who on earth did she think she was to even dare comment, never mind pass judgement on him? When things were tough she couldn’t even cope with walking past the biscuit tin without reaching for a cookie, and there was nothing wrong with her. Seeing him now – the livid scars, the closed-up eye, the empty sleeve –humbled her. No wonder Danny had needed the pub. Talk about the sin of pride.
She hung her head. “I’m sorry, Danny. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I didn’t have any right.”
“Bollocks,” said Danny firmly. “You had every right. I’ve been behaving like an arse and don’t deny it; I know it’s true. Everyone’s usually far too scared to say anything, either in case they push me even closer to the brink or because they’re awed by the whole war-hero crap and don’t know what to say. How do you dare tell off a man who gave his arm and half his face for his country?”
“It’s not crap, Dad: you are a hero,” said Morgan, without looking up from his camera. “But you drink far too much alcohol. Fact.”
Danny grimaced. “I’m working on it son, OK?”
“OK,” said Morgan. “Now can I take some photos?”
“Sure,” nodded Danny. To Jules he added softly, “Even my son wants me to get my shit together. I can’t argue with that, can I?”
“I guess not,” Jules agreed. Then, watching Morgan wander away to start snapping at the view from the churchyard, she asked, “What’s with the camera?”
“I think it’s Symon’s – but Morgan seems to have taken to it, so I guess Sy can kiss that baby goodbye for a good few months. Photography looks set to be Morgan’s new obsession, which I must say is something of a relief.” Danny grinned at her and it was like the sun had slipped out from behind a cloud. Jules was taken aback by how his face transformed. “Until recently he was into learning all about linguistics. Apart from swearing, at which I am a sodding expert, I’m hopeless at that.”
“Yes, your swearing the other night was some of the best I’ve ever heard,” she deadpanned.
“See? I do have other talents apart from the army. There’s hope for me yet,” laughed Danny. He had a nice laugh, Jules thought. It was rich and warm and rippling, the mirth equivalent of a Cadbury’s Flake. She’d like to hear that laugh again. Apart from being much nicer than the swearing and shouting, it was contagious; she found that she wanted to join in.
He stepped forward and laid his hand on her arm. “Seriously though, Vicar, what you said? About living my life? I can’t stop thinking about that.”
Jules felt her cheeks start to heat up. “Danny, I’m sorry. What do I know about what you’ve been through?”
“You watch the news, you’re intelligent, you have an opinion and you don’t know me.” Danny’s words cut through her protests like a hot knife through rope. “Yes, I’m fucking pissed off with Tara, my face is a mess and my career’s over, but you’re right: I’m still here. I can see my son grow up and I can spend time with my family. Unlike some of my men, who only got to come home in Union Jack draped coffins; I’m still alive, aren’t I? Shit, who’d have thought it? I’m actually the lucky one. But why me and not them? How’s that fair or just?”
“Danny, I don’t know. Maybe that’s something only God can understand?”
His lips twitched. “Yeah, right. Maybe we’ll leave that discussion for another day. All I know is that everything in my world is upside down.”
Jules didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to because she was sure that Danny was figuring it all out just fine on his own. The sun chose to peek over the top of the valley at this point, slicing the sky with the pink and gold of a new day.
Her heart rose. A new start?
“If there was ever a sign,” breathed Danny. “Look, Vicar—”
“Please, call me Jules,” she interrupted. “‘Vicar’ makes me feel like I’m about a hundred years old.”
“OK. Jules it is then.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words, before pressing on. “Look, on Sunday night I didn’t drink a drop and I didn’t sleep much either. I never do these days. It was bloody awful and I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but somehow I made it through the night without my mate Jack Daniel’s. Then I started thinking that if I could do it for one night I could do it again, and again. So I did.” His face was flushed with the sense of achievement. “I didn’t have a drink, Jules! I haven’t had one for several days now, and I’ll do my best not to have another – although I’m not expecting it to be easy. Of course I’m a mess. I was in a fucking warzone and I saw my friends blown to pieces, for Christ’s sake. Sorry for blaspheming, Vic – I mean Jules. But I’ve lost my wife, I’ve lost an arm and I don’t even look like the man Tara married. I’m in pain from the injuries and I don’t sleep because I have nightmares. Drinking’s been my way of taking the edge off some of it, but I know I can’t go on like this.”
Jules was feeling totally out of her depth. What did she know about post-traumatic stress or the experiences of people who’d seen active service?
“I’ll make an appointment to see a counsellor again,” Danny continued. “I’ll listen to what they say and I’ll follow the advice of my doctor too. I’ll take my medicines, do my exercises and I’ll play ball. Jules, I promise that I’ll do everything I can to pull it together. I’ll do it for Morgan and for my friends. OK?”
“OK,” Jules echoed, feeling stunned. This seemed like a pretty dramatic turnaround to her, as well as the most extreme answer to prayer she could have imagined.
“I don’t think I need shrinks and I don’t think I need drugs either, but then again I wasn’t doing so well on my own, so this time I’ll do what the experts say I’m supposed to,” Danny was telling her. There was a light in his eye now, akin to the light that shone in the eyes of Jules’s evangelical colleagues. His hand tightened on her arm. “What I know that I do need, though, is someone to help me take my mind off it all – and that’s where you come in.”
She did? It took all sorts, but s
omehow Jules didn’t have Danny Tremaine pegged as the type who’d want to sign up for an Alpha Course or join the brass-cleaning rota.
“Me? How exactly can I help?”
“I need to be focused on anything but the pub and booze,” Danny explained. He wasn’t laughing now. Instead a determined expression had settled across his face. He had the same high cheekbones as Issie and Jake, Jules noticed, and the same dimples too. Even with his injuries, Danny Tremaine was still a striking guy. If only he could see that.
“If I go anywhere near The Ship I’ll be staring at the bottom of a glass before you can say ‘pisshead’,” Danny confessed with a rueful shrug. “Pathetic I know, but that’s the truth – and I figure admitting it’s half the battle, right? What I need is a distraction, something else to focus on, which is where you come in. You and I could really help each other out here.” His hand rose to grab her shoulder in excitement. “Jules! You’re the one! You’re perfect!”
Eh? What on earth did he mean by this? Jules glanced down at her fleecy dressing gown and novelty pig slippers, and her blush deepened. Perfect? Hardly!
Hang on a minute. Was he suggesting that he and she…
Implying that they…
Did he think they could…
Jules’s imagination was in overdrive now. Images that no vicar should ever conjure up whizzed through her mind’s eye as though her reading matter of choice had zoomed from the Bible to Fifty Shades in a millisecond.
He couldn’t mean that?
Surely not?
Luckily, before she had the chance to say anything at all and make an idiot of herself in the process, Danny was launching into a speech. He was revealing an idea that he’d obviously put a lot of time and thought into.
“Now, Morgan tells me that you want to lose weight? I want to keep busy, so how about you and I team up and help each other out? I know a lot about fitness and I need to exercise more too, to get my strength back into my leg and keep myself out of the pub. We could meet every day and walk on the cliffs for an hour or use the steps by the church as a workout. We could even swim if it was warm enough!”
He looked so eager that Jules didn’t have the heart to point out that she was about as athletic as an arthritic slug and probably the worst choice ever for a fitness buddy. Besides, she hated getting up early. Morning Prayer was bad enough. The Lord had not blessed her with the gift of joyous early rising.
“I only mentioned my weight to Issie and in passing,” she protested. “I’m amazed Morgan remembered it.”
Danny laughed. “That would be enough for Morgan. He never forgets anything. The boy’s got an amazing memory. So, come on, what do you think? Am I or am I not a bloody genius?”
Jules was trying to think of an excuse. “I can’t run.”
He pointed to his leg. “What makes you think I can? Anyway, who mentioned running? It’s going to be a glorious morning. Grab your costume; let’s swim in the rock pool!”
Jules crossed her arms mutinously. “No way. Anyhow, I can’t swim.”
“So I’ll teach you. Next excuse?”
“I’m busy?”
“Jules, it’s quarter to six in the morning. You wouldn’t even be up usually. Next?”
She shook her head. “Do you know what? I think I preferred you when you were drunk and swearing.”
“Tough. Those days are behind me, or at least they will be if you’ll help.” Danny lowered his voice. “Seriously, Jules, I mean it. I really want to change but I’m not sure if I can do it alone. I’m fucking scared, if you want the truth. I know it’s too late for Tara and me, but I want to be the father Morgan deserves. You’ve seen him; he’s not like other kids and he needs me. You were spot on. I have been given a second chance, but I’m shit-scared I’m going to blow it on my own. My family is too close; they suffocate me. But you understand. You get it. Jules, I can’t explain it but I have a really strong feeling that you and I can help each other. Please, I need you on my side.”
It was on the tip of Jules’s tongue to refuse point blank. After all, she hated exercise, hardly knew Danny Tremaine (and what she did know wasn’t exactly encouraging) and she had a sermon to write as well as a parish council meeting to plan. The thought of going back upstairs and burrowing beneath her duvet to catch another hour’s sleep was also a very tempting one. Yes, this was exactly what Jules wanted to do, so why wasn’t she telling him thanks but no thanks?
Because, whispered a small voice deep down inside of her, you’ve been praying really hard to lose weight. And didn’t you pray for Danny Tremaine too?
“Well?” said Danny. “What do you say?”
Jules was trembling. This was all a coincidence too far. One thing she knew for certain was that when it came to her boss up there, there were no coincidences – just answers to prayer. What if God, who had a very good sense of humour, had decided to answer both her prayers at once?
Standing on her doorstep in her fleecy pyjamas, silly slippers and bright red dressing gown, Jules knew exactly what her answer had to be and it made her groan.
“I’m probably going to regret this,” she said slowly, “but OK then. Let’s see if we can help each other.”
“Brilliant!” Danny beamed at her and in that instant Jules saw a glimpse of the energetic and vital man he’d been before his injuries. “That’s bloody fantastic. You won’t regret it, I promise. Well, go on then! Get changed! What are you waiting for?”
Morgan, camera in hand, came racing over when he heard his father’s excitement. “Is she coming, Dad?”
Danny smiled at him. “She certainly is, my boy!”
“You want to start right now?” Jules had hoped to at least have twenty-four hours to get her head around this new arrangement – maybe even pop into Plymouth and buy some new sports gear. But it seemed that the Tremaines, a bit like the time and tide, waited for no one. Not even vicars.
Morgan raised his eyes, the same blue as his father’s, to the sky and then gave her an impatient look.
“Of course right now! Come on! You’re wasting time. The light is just right. I’ll take some pictures of you. We can do before and after!”
“No time like the present,” added Danny.
Jules felt as though she was having a very odd trip. The last time she’d seen Danny, hadn’t she been incredibly rude to him and overstepped her mark as a pastor too? She’d expected him to come back half-cut and give her a mouthful of abuse, not show up at the crack of dawn wanting to be friends and to propose they work together to solve their respective problems. Seriously, she thought as she hauled herself back up the stairs to change into her leggings and trainers, life as an inner-city vicar had been a breeze in comparison to being at Polwenna Bay. This Cornish parish was a whole new challenge.
She really hoped she was up to the job.
Chapter 15
“You’re a bloody idiot,” Jake said to Nick as he fought the urge to grab his younger brother and give him a hard shake. In fact if Nick hadn’t been so hung-over that he was likely to vomit everywhere, and if Jake hadn’t spent hours yesterday cleaning the marina office, this was exactly what he would have done.
“Don’t shout,” Nick groaned, massaging his temples and sinking onto a chair. “My head is killing me.”
Jake shot his brother a pointed look. “Maybe you should hope your head makes a good job of it before Eddie Penhalligan comes back for another of his special staff briefings?”
Nick turned even greener at this thought. “Christ, I thought he was going to have another heart attack, he was shouting so loudly.”
“Do you blame him? Jesus, Nick. What sort of idiot takes a trawler out when they’re half pissed?”
Jake’s own head was starting to pound. What a start to the day, arriving on the quayside and finding his brother in the middle of another Penhalligan family fracas. Big Eddie was famous for his hot temper and flying fists, and his roars of fury could be heard halfway to Seaspray. Even though it had been early in the morning, a smal
l crowd had already gathered and at the windows of the holiday cottages nervous faces had been peering out to see what all the noise was about. By the time Jake had neared the scene, Big Eddie had been holding Nick by the scruff of his neck while Eddie’s boys Joe and Bobby did their best to pull their father away.
Jake leant against the desk and exhaled wearily. Big Eddie’s face had been dangerously red. His eyes had bulged like squid and a vein had throbbed in his temple as he’d yelled at his ashen-faced crew. Nick, who was the acting skipper while Eddie was off sick, had taken the brunt of his wrath; at one point Jake had really thought his brother was about to be throttled. No matter how hard Susie had pleaded with her husband to calm down and think of his heart, Eddie had only grown louder and more incensed. In the end, Jake hadn’t had much choice but to wade in and rescue his brother. Eddie hadn’t appreciated this interference in the slightest, and his swift right hook had caught Jake smack on the jaw. Still, once Nick was extricated and Jake had learned why Eddie was so angry, he hadn’t blamed the older man one bit.
He crossed the office and, opening up the small fridge, withdrew a freezer block from the ice compartment and held it against his face. Just great. Now it looked like he’d been brawling. Alice would have a fit.
“Any water in there?” asked Nick. Rigger boots up on the desk now and leaning right back in his chair with his eyes closed, he was the picture of insouciance, seemingly oblivious to the chaos he’d caused and the potential there had been for tragedy. Jake couldn’t help himself; pulling out a bottle of Evian and unscrewing the lid, he tipped the contents right over his brother’s head.
“What the—” Shocked by the icy drenching, Nick leapt to his feet, spluttering and shaking droplets from his hair. He rounded on Jake, furiously. “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“To sober you up.” Lobbing the bottle into the bin, Jake crossed his arms and glared at his brother. “What the hell are you playing at, going to sea drunk? Have you got a death wish?”
[Polwenna Bay 01.0] Runaway Summer Page 17
