by Peters, Sue
`Dan! Wake up!’
`What on earth’s the matter?’
The door opened and Dan stood there. His hair was tousled, one hand rubbing the daze of sleep from his eyes.
`It’s Amos,’ she stammered incoherently. ‘He wants you.’
`Amos is out in the bay, on the Sea Swallow Julian told you,’ he towered above her, wide awake himself now. `You’ve been dreaming, and it’s frightened you.’ Almost roughly he reached out and drew her to him His one hand gripped her round her waist, and the other rose and stroked her hair.
`There’s no need to be afraid, darling.’ His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and she had to strain to hear. Tog doesn’t worry Amos, he’s been a seaman all his life.’ His hand left her hair, and his fingers cradled her chin, tipping her face up to his. ‘He’ll be all right.’
But he’s not all right.’ She choked on the knowledge. Had Dan really called her darling, or was she dreaming, as he said? She looked up into his eyes, the blue, far-seeing eyes of the mariner, that now looked deep into her own with
an expression in them that made her heart leap.
`That’s his foghorn you can hear now …’
`I know. That’s what I mean.’ She found her voice again. Later, she would remember what he said, would believe it, if she could. But not now. There was no time, now. ‘He’s calling you with his foghorn, Dan. He needs you.’ Was it her imagination, or did the sound of the foghorn falter as they listened?
`I believe you’re right.’ He cocked his head, taking notice. ‘You are right.’ He straightened away from her abruptly, and cradled in the circle of his arm she felt him stiffen. ‘Lance !’ He loosed her and spun round, and sprinted for the door at the end of the corridor. `Lance!’ He did not stop to hammer on it as Jo had done on his, but opened it and went straight in. She heard his voice calling to his brother, heard Lance’s sleepy answer, then an alert, wakeful response.
`Jo, phone the lifeboat station, will you?’ Dan came back to where she still stood outside his door, paused and spoke to her. ‘You’ll find the number on the pad on the hall table.’ He swung back in the act of re-entering his room, and briefly, urgently, caught her to him again, straining her against him with an intensity of feeling that shook him out of his normal self-contained reserve.
`Jo—sweetheart,’ his voice was hoarse, hurried with the urgency of the siren upon him, that still called and called. `We must talk when I come back. Promise me we’ll talk?’
Jo nodded, dumbly. She could not reply. Dan bent his head and his lips touched hers in a hard, swift kiss that smothered any response she might have made.
`Get dressed,’ he said abruptly, and disappeared himself to do the same.
`I’ll dress afterwards.’ She paused only to snatch her dressing gown from behind the door and slip it across her shoulders before flying downstairs to the telephone. The
number of the lifeboat station was printed in large letters on the pad beside the telephone, along with the numbers of the doctor and the other emergency services. She dialled, and surprisingly her fingers did not tremble. One part of her mind, while acknowledging the crisis, remained icily calm.
Tenderick House here.’ She identified herself. ‘There’s a fog hooter sounding from a trawler. It’s sending out an S .O. S.’
`It’s just woke me up, missie. I’ll set the siren off, and call the crew in right away.’ The voice at the other end sounded jerky, as if the man was holding the phone to his ear with one hand, and struggling to get his clothes on with the other.
`He’s heard the hooter, he’s going to call the crew.’ She did not waste time as Dan and Lance appeared fully dressed, and took the stairs three at a time. How did they manage to get dressed so quickly? They must keep a set of seagoing clothes beside their beds, ready for just such an emergency. She learned later that they did. Dan stopped as he reached her side, and bent swiftly towards her.
`Try not to worry. We’ll be back,’ he promised. His hand touched hers, and for a second her fingers twined about his, clinging, holding him to her, then she let him go, and seconds later the engine of the car burst into life and grew fainter down the drive.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Jo had not noticed Hannah until now, had not seen that Julian stood beside her in the hall, tall, and seeming to stoop more than ever in his enveloping dressing gown. She pulled her own to, suddenly conscious of her filmy attire.
`I’ll come and help you. I’ll just look in on Chris first, in case we’ve disturbed him.’ Desperately she wanted something to do, to prevent her mind from thinking. She opened her brother’s door and leaned over his bed, but he slept on
undisturbed, and looking at him curled into a relaxed ball under the covers she envied him. By the time Chris woke up the fog would most likely be gone, and the saga of the night would be ended. He would not have to endure the hours of waiting, wondering what—if
`If you’re going to wait up, Julian, come and sit by the fire.’ She shut her mind resolutely to the whats and ifs, and stirred the still glowing embers on the hearth. She reached behind her to the hod and fed the resulting flame carefully, placing logs with meticulous care crossways one over the other, concentrating all her attention on making the fire burn up so that she should not remember that Dan was driving towards the lifeboat station, along the coast road that dipped and turned on top of the cliffs above the bay, much of it unfenced, and blanketed by the same fog that shrouded the Sea Swallow.
`Dan knows every inch of the road, Jo.’ Julian’s eyes were on her face, reading her thoughts as she knelt on the rug tending the flames. He must have sat through many a vigil like this, Jo thought with sudden compassion. Perhaps longing to go with the other men, but compelled by physical disability to remain at home with the women, and wait. In a way it would be easier to endure the danger than the waiting. That needed a particular kind of courage.
`The lifeboat siren’s stopped,’ she realised. The fog hooter still sent out its mournful cry for help, but the intervals between the S.O.S. signals seemed longer, now.
`The boat’s got its crew,’ Julian answered her comment. `There’s no need to keep that racket up when they’ve got a full crew, it’ll only disturb the whole village.’
The practical approach again. Jo marvelled at their outlook, but found herself nodding, appreciating their point of view. There were children in the village who needed sleep; elderly people, and maybe ailing ones as well, and they all had to be considered.
`What a comfort you are, Hannah!’ Julian smiled at her kindly as she appeared with a tray of tea.
`It always helps,’ she nodded towards the pot and settled herself in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth to him with the accustomed attitude of one who had gone through the same ritual countless times before, and once again prepared herself to wait through the long hours ahead. The clock on the mantelshelf struck the half hour.
`Half past two?’ Jo exclaimed. ‘It seems a lifetime since we went to bed.’
It would seem another lifetime before it got daylight, she thought, shrinking from what she knew must be a long wait. Thank goodness it got light early, it would have been unbearable if it had been the other end of the year, and daylight tardy in coming.
She took her cup from Hannah, and looked up from where she still sat curled on the rug. She caught the older woman’s eyes. Hannah had that special kind of strength. Sudden compunction touched Jo. She herself was afraid, but primarily for Dan. For the others too, of course, but mostly for Dan. And in a way it was a selfish kind of fear. Hannah was equally afraid for them all. Dan and Lance were like sons to her, and she was related to Amos and Roddy. How did she bear it? Impulsively Jo reached out and gripped her hand. It lay limply in the hollow of her lap, making no attempt to raise the comforting cup of tea to her lips, while her faded eyes looked sightlessly into the fire. Remembering the night when she waited in vain for her man to return?
`The boat holed, and sank with all hands …’
>
Hannah’s hair lay in a long grey pigtail, neatly plaited down her back. Strangely, the small girl style made her look older than the bun she normally wore it in during the day.
`They’re still afloat, or they wouldn’t be hooting.’
The tired voice offered Jo comfort in return for her handclasp. Yes, Hannah had that special kind of strength. Would she ever have it? Something like panic touched Jo’s hard-won calm. Before tonight—before Dan spoke to her, looked at her in that way—it had been a hypothetical question. Now, she knew, it was one that would have to be answered, and soon. When Dan came back …
She must have dozed off. A hammering on the front door woke her, and she stirred stiffly. She should have sat on a chair the same as Hannah and Julian, but the rug had seemed more comfortable. It did not seem so now. Her legs felt stiff, and the back of her neck ached where it had rested on the arm of Hannah’s chair.
`It’s Dan come back.’ She jumped to her feet, and had to grab at the mantel to prevent herself from falling. Her leg had gone to sleep under her, and she rubbed it impatiently, unable for the moment to support herself.
`Dan wouldn’t knock on the door.’ Julian, for all his limp, was swifter than she was, and he reached the door first.
`Come on in, Ned.’ He drew a blue-jerseyed figure into the room. Jo recognised him as one of the lifeboatmen she had seen the other day.
`Dan asked me to come up, Mr Julian.’ He put their fears at rest immediately. ‘Him an’ Lance are staying with Roddy and his ma for a while. There’s things to be done . . He hesitated, and shot a glance at Hannah.
`Sit down, man, and tell us.’ Even now the housekeeper did not lose her calm, though her face looked lined and grey in the faint, early light that filtered through the curtains. ‘I’ll have to know some time,’ she added quietly, ‘and I’d just as soon hear it from you as anyone. It’s Amos, isn’t it?’ she guessed.
`Aye.’ The newcomer nodded shoberly. ‘From what we’ve managed to get out of Roddy, Amos sent the lad
to sleep in the bunk, and decided to sit it out at the wheel himself sooner than bother to come ashore. You know how he was for stopping the night on his boat?’
Even Jo knew that. Amos lived alone, his wife had been dead for some years, and he frequently chose to remain on the Sea Swallow—his other love—rather than come ashore to an empty house. Roddy often stayed with him, for company.
`He must’ve dozed off at the wheel,’ the man continued. `Roddy said he didn’t anchor up, he just kept enough way on the boat to steady her against the run of the tide.’
Was he trawling?’
`No, he’d no nets out. And when he went to sleep he must’ve slipped against the control and stalled the engine, because she drifted …’
`On to the Claw?’ Hannah’s words were a long sigh.
`Aye,’ Ned nodded. ‘The curent took them, and the Sea Swallow hit the two end spears of rock broadside on. There’s a girt hole in her side, but the rocks held her, she’s jammed tight in between the two.’
`Then how …?’
“Twas the collision as did it, Mr Julian,’ he answered. `You know the speed of the current there, the boat must have given them rocks a tidy crack. It threw Amos across the wheelhouse, against the bulkhead on the other side. He couldn’t have known anything about it, missus,’ he offered Hannah what comfort he could. ‘He wouldn’t have suffered any …’
`What about Roddy?’ Hannah did not spare herself.
`Well, the collision shook him straight out of the bunk on to the deck. Being asleep, he had no chance to save himself.’
`What damage?’ Hannah waxed impatient, and Jo knew, suddenly, how she felt. Not knowing was worse than knowing.
`Seems as if he’s cracked some ribs and hurt his shoulder. He managed to reach the cord that works the fog hooter, but it pained him a lot to pull it. The wireless got damaged in the collision and wouldn’t work. He might’ve given up and waited for daylight if he hadn’t been so scared. She started to fill with water, see, as the tide rose. I reckon it’ll shift her off the rocks and sink her before it’s at the full, and I suppose he thought …’ He stopped abruptly, with a look at Julian that clearly begged for help.
`He thought one in a family was enough to die on the Claw.’ Hannah finished for him ‘Well, it’s had two o’ mine now.’ With what seemed a tremendous effort of will she gathered herself together and stood up. ‘You’ll need a cup of tea.’
Nay, I’ll go home to the missus.’ The lifeboatman shook his head. ‘I only stopped by at home on the way up here, so she’d know where I was. She’ll have my breakfast on the stove. Best not let it spoil.’ He laid a gnarled hand on Hannah’s shoulder for an instant, then with a courteous nod to Julian and Jo he made for the door.
`Take a nip with you, for later.’ Jo heard the sideboard door in the dining room open and shut.
`Thank you kindly, Mr Julian. One won’t come amiss after this night.’
`The fog’s gone ‘ Julian came back into the room. Going to the window, he drew aside the curtains and let in the welcome light. True to its fickle nature the fog had disappeared, leaving only a faint trace of mist that was clearing even as they looked. From somewhere in the spinney, a thrush started to sing.
`It’s another day.’ Jo felt numb. What comfort could she offer to Hannah?
`Get dressed, Miss Jo, and we’ll put the breakfast on.’ Hannah offered Jo a palliative instead.
`I couldn’t eat.’
`Maybe not, but the men will need hot food when they come in. And they’ll need your strength, too,’ she reminded Jo quietly. ‘There’ll be a lot to do, this day.’ Sadly, Hannah knew the routine. ‘And there’s Chris to see to.’ She stirred Jo into action.
`I’ve made a pot of porridge,’ she announced, as Jo reappeared a few minutes later, fully dressed, and having made sure Chris was getting up. ‘When you’ve a job to swallow it slips down easy, and it’ll keep you going.’ Hannah stirred the mixture with unnecessary vigour. ‘Help me to carry the plates through into the dining room.’
`We’ll eat in the kitchen this morning, Hannah.’ Dan appeared in the doorway, with Lance behind him. ‘It’s warmer in here, and we can help ourselves from the stove.’ His quick glance in Jo’s direction told her he did not intend Hannah to be left to eat on her own.
`Am I late?’ Chris clattered into the kitchen, and surveyed the assembled grown-ups with surprise. ‘What’s the matter?’ His recent experiences had made him sensitive to atmosphere, and his face took on serious lines.
`One of the trawlers ran into trouble off the Claw during the night.’ Dan omitted to tell him which one. ‘We had to take the lifeboat out to her.’
`Did you get the crew off?’ the boy asked eagerly.
`Yes.’ He did not enlarge ‘Come and eat your breakfast now, and I’ll tell you about it later, when we’re rested.’
`Dan and Lance have been up half the night, don’t bother them now, they’re very tired.’ Dan’s face looked haggard and drawn, they both did. Dark stubble showed on his normally clean-shaven chin, and his eyes were weary.
`Sit quiet, and get on with your porridge.’ Jo filled more bowls with the creamy brew, smaller ones for Hannah and herself. ‘Eat now, it’ll warm you.’ She gave one each to Dan and Lance, another to Julian. Surprisingly, the tears that in Ned’s presence she found difficult to check now did not
need to flow. They might later, but for the moment she had work to do. She seated the two tired men into chairs on either side of the hearth, sugared and milked their porridge for them, and pressed them to begin. ‘Eat up,’ she insisted. `And Hannah and I will do the same.’ She sent them an oblique warning not to let her down, and seating herself beside the housekeeper repeated her advice. In spite of her brave words Hannah found difficulty in following her own advice, but eventually, under Jo’s coaxing, she managed the bowl full, and a cup of tea, which Julian thoughtfully laced before she drank it.
Not for me, thanks.’ Dan and La
nce both refused whisky in their tea, and Jo shook her head as Julian’s hand hovered over her cup.
Nor me.’ She was unaccustomed to drink of any kind, and wanted all her senses alert for the day that lay ahead. It promised to be as long as the night had been. Hannah and the others knew what it would bring, but Jo could only guess. Pain would come, and grieving. For Amos—for Hannah, to whom the fresh wound reopened old ones long healed. And for Roddy, whose ribs would heal but whose mind would bear the scar, as Chris’s did, of tragedy endured before his time.
`If you want to go to Roddy’s mother, I’ll run you there in the car,’ Julian offered when Hannah shook her head to Jo’s offer of buttered toast.
`She could do with me there, I don’t doubt, with young Roddy laid up.’ Hannah looked across the table at him. But what about here?’ She glanced round the kitchen worriedly. ‘There’s the meals to get, and the shopping and all …’
`I’ll cope for you for a few days, until things are more settled.’ Jo spoke up immediately, not giving herself time to think. Was today really the day when she planned to move her belongings out of Penderick House for good? She could
not have done so, of course, because Dan blocked her purchase of the cottage. Strangely, she had forgotten about the cottage. It was all she could think of yesterday. Now it seemed unimportant beside all that had happened. ‘You go and stay with Roddy’s mother,’ she urged, ‘I’ll manage until you come back.’
`Go and get your things together, I’ll take you straight away.’ Julian turned to Jo. ‘I’ll be away most of the day, I expect. There’ll be running about to do, and the car will come in useful.’ His clear-thinking ability to organise would be invaluable to the distressed relatives, she knew.
`I’ll expect you when I see you,’ she removed any difficulties from his path. ‘It’ll be easy enough to do a quick grill when you do get in. Have you had enough to eat now?’ Then as he nodded, ‘Just the same I’ll put you up a snap.’ Unconsciously she borrowed Hannah’s terminology. ‘You might find it useful during the day.’ She knew from bitter experience just how much ‘running about’ as Julian called it there was to do at such a time, and he might go without food rather than intrude on the bereaved family for meals.
