The run across the sea to the Shindeeps was a relatively smooth one and under any other circumstances Mo probably would have enjoyed it. The sea was glittering and although there was a slight breeze and the water was lumpy, Ashley’s boat skipped across the waves as easily as a pebble skimming over a flat pond. The speed snatched Mo’s breath away and she clung to the handrail with all her might; she felt as though she was riding every one of the six hundred horses under the engines bareback and without a bridle. Mo loved speed and adored galloping her horses flat out across countryside, but this was something else again. The speed whipped tears from her eyes and made her cheeks wobble. She wedged her backside against the bolster seat and stole a glance at Ashley. The wind blew the dark hair back from his face and she could see how hard he was concentrating.
“How much longer?” she shouted to him.
“We’re doing almost sixty miles an hour. About five more minutes,” Ashley called back. “She’s at full speed now.”
Polwenna Bay had vanished and there was nothing around them but miles of water and the blue sweep of sky. Mo shivered. She loved the sea but there was something about being this far out and no longer able to see the land that she found unnerving. Surprisingly though, far from being the clueless show-off that she’d expected, Ashley actually knew how to handle the boat, coaxing maximum performance from her and trimming the engines perfectly so that she flew over the waves and surfed across the big troughs. If her sister was right, Mo knew that Ashley’s boat would easily reach any survivors a good ten minutes faster than the nearest lifeboat.
Abruptly, Ashley pulled back the throttle, sinking the boat back into the water and jolting Mo backwards.
“What are you stopping for?” she cried, frustrated beyond all belief that he could waste time like this. “We can’t be far away.”
“I just saw a plastic milk container float by.” Ashley knocked the boat out of gear and peered over the side. “There! Do you see?”
Mo did. Only metres away the remainder of two pints of Trewithen Dairy’s semi-skimmed milk bobbed merrily past. A can of Foster’s followed, evidence if she ever needed it that Bobby and Joe had been close to this spot.
“Unless the fish are brewing tea or going on the piss, then that’s debris from their boat,” Ashley observed drily. “I daren’t go flat out in case I get something trapped in the props or, God forbid, run a survivor down. It might have escaped your notice but it’s hazy now and visibility is down to about half a mile. Is that all right with you?”
Mo felt thoroughly chastened. “Yes, sorry.”
Ashley raised an eyebrow. “An apology from Morwenna Tremaine? If only I had a witness.”
Mo chose to ignore this dig. She was too busy squinting at the horizon.
“Get up onto the bow.” Ashley put the engine back into gear and the boat began to creep forward. “If you see anything, shout and point at it and don’t take your eyes off it, whatever you do.”
Mo didn’t argue. Ashley knew what he was doing here and she appreciated his expertise. Just as she was in charge at the yard, with safety as her top priority, he was in charge here. It was just as well; she wouldn’t have had a clue.
“There’s the Shindeeps,” Ashley called, pulling the boat around in a broad sweep and pointing to where white water was boiling across the sharp teeth of the rocks. “We can’t go much further or we’ll risk running aground ourselves. I’ll hold her here. Shout if you can spot anything.”
At first Mo thought it was just the glinting sunlight on the water playing tricks on her eyes, a mirage caused by longing, because she was sure that she could see a bright orange blob at least a quarter of a mile away to the east. Eyes narrowed, and with her hand blocking the glare, Mo peered closer and her heart leapt. It was the life raft!
“Over there! Portside!” she cried. “It’s them!”
“Got it!” Ashley turned the wheel and pushed the throttle forward, and within moments they were pulling alongside the small orange craft where a white-faced Joe and Bobby were waving frantically and shouting.
Everything seemed to happen very fast after this. Ashley knocked the engine into neutral and leaned across with the boat hook, which Joe grabbed with an expression of great relief, and flipping down the boat ladder the Whaler’s owner helped the shaken boys on board.
“There’s chocolate and a flask of coffee in the locker under the console,” he said to Mo, wincing as the life raft scraped the side of his pristine engine. “They’re shocked and they’ll need some sugar.”
Mo did as she was told. Ashley’s confidence and authority were very reassuring and, besides, he was right: the boys looked terrible. While she rummaged through Ashley’s dry bag for a couple of Snickers bars and the flask, she heard his conversation with the coastguard as he marked the waypoint on his plotter and told them that they could stand down the rescue mission.
“Both survivors of fishing vessel Penhalligan Girl are on board 280 Outrage Big Rod, and you have our co-ordinates,” he was saying over the VHF. “Returning to Polwenna Bay now and requesting an ambulance on standby.” He put the radio back in its holder and caught Mo’s eye. “Maybe you should have some coffee too? You look dreadful.”
Actually, Mo felt dreadful. Her hands were trembling and she was lightheaded. In her haste to reach the village she’d skipped breakfast, and she’d hardly eaten anything the night before either. This, added to the huge adrenalin rush of earlier, made her feel quite peculiar and shaky.
“Here, have this.” Ashley shrugged off his Musto coat and draped it over her shoulders. It was warm with his body heat and to her surprise this wasn’t the unpleasant sensation she’d anticipated.
“Thanks,” Mo said.
Ashley shrugged. “Can’t have three of you hypothermic. There isn’t enough coffee or room in the ambulance.”
“You’re all heart,” Mo told him, and Ashley laughed wryly.
“You’d better believe it, Red.”
The journey back to the village was slower. Bobby and Joe, wet and dazed, sipped the coffee and gradually stuttered out their version of what had happened. Just as Mo had suspected, they’d been fishing off the rocks when they’d snagged the trawl on the seabed and run into difficulties.
“Nick made the turn no problem the last time,” Bobby said quietly. “We didn’t have his tracks in the plotter, though. I thought I could do it from memory but…”
“But we’re not as good as Nick,” Joe finished. Wet and tearstained he looked about twelve, and Mo could have swung for her careless, reckless sibling. Nick Tremaine had that instinctive edge of brilliance laced with the luck of the Devil, which made him both a fantastic and a very dangerous skipper. Of course the less experienced Penhalligan brothers would struggle to pull off his stunts. Still, this wasn’t the time for lectures. They’d already learned a very hard lesson.
“We couldn’t pull free,” Bobby continued. He could hardly speak; his voice was so hoarse from yelling for help. “I didn’t want to cut the gear – Dad would go mental if we lost the trawl – so we thought we’d steam back to the harbour and maybe pull it free that way.”
Mo groaned. It was an amateur mistake and one guaranteed to end in tragedy.
“But you were snagged on a wreck and couldn’t break away? And the boat was under too much loading, wasn’t it?” Ashley guessed. “What happened next? Was it the wind direction? Did a wave hit her side on and that was it?”
Joe nodded. “It was so quick. One moment I was in the wheelhouse and Bobby was working the winch, the next she was under.” He paused and passed a shaking hand over his face. “We thought we’d die.”
“Lucky for you then that Mo guessed what was going on and had the guts to do something about it, “ Ashley said icily. “Otherwise the rescue mission would have been still on the way while you clowns drifted to France. You owe her your lives.”
“I take it Issie grassed us up?” said Bobby bitterly.
“And lucky for you she did,” snapped Ashley.
His face was black with anger. “You’re a pair of stupid, reckless idiots and you’ve got away with it today by the skin of your teeth. Value your lives. You don’t know how lucky you are, so learn from it. The sea won’t forgive you twice and I certainly won’t be burning good fuel to save your necks again. Don’t be surprised when you get a bill from me.”
There wasn’t much more that anyone could say to this and the rest of the journey home passed in silence. Mo stole a couple of glances at Ashley but he was focused on the helm and didn’t look her way once. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. How she could thank him for listening to her, and quite why he’d done so, she couldn’t figure out. Mo had the uneasy feeling that she really owed him now.
By the time they returned, the good news had reached the village and the quay was packed with people waving and cheering as Ashley steered through the harbour gates. As he drew alongside the quay Susie came running, followed by a puffing and dangerously red-faced Eddie. Of Summer there was no sign, and in spite of everything that had passed between them, Mo found herself worrying about her old friend.
Ashley, ignoring the excitement and the calls of congratulations almost to the point of rudeness, busied himself examining the damage to his engines. Mo leapt off the boat intending to help moor up but found herself surrounded by friends and villagers who were all desperate to hear the story, while Bobby and Joe were safely delivered into the care of the waiting paramedics. By the time the crowds had thinned Ashley had moved the boat back to his mooring and was walking along the pontoon. His face was set in a scowl and he’d clearly abandoned the day’s fishing trip.
“Ashley!” Mo called to him, her voice echoing across the water. “I’ve still got your coat and your life jacket!”
He paused and looked her up and down. Mo felt hot – and not because of the heavy coat. “So you have. Just as I said earlier: overdressed for a boat trip.”
“Shall I bring them over to you?”
“Good idea,” Ashley agreed. “Bring them up to Mariners this evening, about seven, and for God’s sake don’t wear those bloody jodhpurs.”
She stared at him. “You want me to come to Mariners?”
“I think it’s time we had a talk, don’t you? There’s something you need to know.”
“And what’s that?”
His expression was inscrutable. “Come over later on and you can find out. I’m not discussing it here.”
And with that he leapt up the steps from the pontoon, slamming the marina gate behind him. He vanished from sight, leaving Mo staring after him with her stomach churning and the ground shifting beneath her feet as though she was still at sea.
Chapter 29
By the time Jake and Summer reached the quayside an ambulance had arrived and snippets of speculation were rippling through the crowd. The sight of paramedics parked up on the slipway sent Summer’s heart plummeting. Was this good news or bad? And as for the rumours that air and sea searches had been called off; did this mean that the boys had been found or that there was no further point in searching for them? What was happening?
Following her anxious gaze, Jake squeezed her hand. “Don’t panic. I’m sure that’s just here as a precaution. We’ll grab Danny. He’ll know what all the latest developments are.”
Summer nodded. She felt giddy. Shock and an empty stomach topped up with a large measure of guilt were certainly taking a toll on her blood pressure. Bless Jake for trying to ease her nerves though, even if it wasn’t working. As they’d walked back into the village she could feel his worries just as keenly as her own and she knew that he was as torn and as shredded inside as she was. He always had done his very best to protect her and take care of her, she remembered, which was why his silence when she’d needed him the most had been so inexplicable and so very hurtful.
The crowds were deep now, a churning spin-cycle mix of holidaymakers and locals, and she couldn’t see past them. She supposed she could push and barge her way through but there was an odd buzzing in her ears and the scene was starting to swim. Only the firm grasp of Jake’s hand was keeping her anchored; otherwise Summer feared that she would pass out. The edges of her vision were fuzzy and speckled with weird black dots, and every few moments sharp pains spiked her right in the abdomen. Something was very wrong but until she knew what was happening to her brothers she couldn’t afford to think about herself.
“There’s Issie!” Jake waved his hand. Being over six feet tall, he could see exactly what was happening and had no trouble attracting his sister’s attention. “Issie! What’s going on?”
“They’ve called the search off!” Issie shouted, waving back excitedly. Her blue eyes were shining with relief. “Ashley Carstairs found the boys over by the Shindeeps – the boat’s lost but they’re safe!”
Relief was too bland a word for the all-consuming, overwhelming, swamping sensation that Summer felt as she heard those words. Joe and Bobby were safe and her silence hadn’t killed them. For once it seemed that fate was inclined to be kind.
Still holding Summer’s trembling hand tightly, Jake threaded a path to his sister.
“You’re sure?” he demanded once Issie was beside him. “You’ve seen them? They’re home?”
His sister nodded. “They’re home, safe and sound. Actually, they’ve only just come in; you’ve missed it by seconds! Honestly, Jake, it’s a miracle. Mo and Ashley took his boat out and found them out by the Shindeeps. The boat had gone down and everything.”
Jake made a noise in the back of his throat that was halfway between a growl and a moan. “I’m not even going to ask what they were doing fishing out there. The main thing is that they’re safe. Or they will be until Eddie gets hold of them.”
“They’re not hurt are they?” Summer asked. Her heart was racing and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears.
“They seemed all right to me,” Issie assured her. “A bit wet and scared looking, but otherwise they were OK. I think they’re only going to hospital for a check-up. Your folks are going with them.”
The strange roaring sound in Summer’s ears was growing louder. Although she tried her hardest to make out Issie’s tale of trawls catching in wrecks and Mo’s commandeering of a second-homer’s powerboat in order to launch her own rescue operation, nothing was really sinking in apart from the massive relief that Joe and Bobby were safe. The pain in her stomach was growing sharper with every second that passed and Summer knew she couldn’t ignore it much longer.
There was something really wrong…
“Summer?” Jake’s voice sounded very far away. “Summer?”
The roaring was motorway loud now and the quayside scene was fading fast. It was as if a curtain was coming down in front of her; the last thing she saw before her legs buckled was Jake reaching out to catch her, and she found herself thinking abstractedly, and she guessed wholly inappropriately, that both inside and out, he really was the most beautiful man she had ever known…
***
Summer knew straight away that her baby had left her far behind. Before she even opened her eyes to make out the green walls of the village surgery and the edges of the narrow examination couch, she understood exactly what had happened. She didn’t need the gentle words of Dr Penwarren or the quiet presence of Jake, holding her hand at her bedside, to tell her what her heart instinctively knew. There was a deep and echoing emptiness within her, a ringing silence when before she’d heard the companionable whisper of another soul curled up next to hers and sharing her every thought and heartbeat. The warm, fuzzy sensation of no longer being alone had vanished. Her little almost person was gone and already Summer missed that tiny being more than she would ever be able to say. Although her eyes were closed, a tear rolled down her cheek.
“It’s all right,” she said quietly, “you don’t need to tell me. I know.”
All she longed to do was turn her head to the wall and weep. The baby might have been Justin’s, and only just there, but it had been hers and somebody s
he would have loved and lived for. After what had happened before, this little one had felt like a second chance, and regardless of who its father was Summer would have given her life for it.
The loss was indescribable.
She took a deep breath. Was this the price she’d had to pay for having her brothers returned? A cosmic balance sheet with the ins and outs on the ledger weighed in lives? If so, her sin of keeping quiet about the boys’ antics had been paid for very dearly. She wondered what Jules Mathieson would have to say on the matter.
Opening her eyes, Summer saw that she was indeed inside the Polwenna surgery, in a small consulting room that had hardly changed since she used to visit with her mother. The same kinds of dog-eared posters proclaiming the benefits of immunisation were tacked onto the wall, and the small window still revealed a slice of sky above a wedge of acid-green hillside. The only real difference was that the doctor taking her pulse today was a young man with kindly grey eyes and thinning sandy hair, rather than Dr Kussell, the scary elderly gentleman with horn-rimmed glasses who’d terrified them all as children.
“Take it easy,” the doctor said as she tried to sit up. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for about five minutes and your blood sugar’s very low. You’ve not eaten today?”
Summer pushed herself into an upright position. The room dipped alarmingly.
“Was it something I did wrong? Did I eat something bad for the baby? Or was it the stress of today? Could that have done it? Or what about a fall? I fell over not that long ago.” She realised that this volley of questions sounded like an interrogation, but she had to know the truth. If this miscarriage were her fault then she would rather be told so. “Was it something I did?”
But Richard Penwarren was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. These things sometimes happen, I’m afraid, especially in the very early stages. Often women don’t even realise they’re pregnant. It’s pretty common. You mustn’t blame yourself at all. There was nothing you could have done that would have made the outcome any different.”
Runaway Summer: Polwenna Bay 1 Page 34
