by Liz Fielding
Kit drank the coffee Eve had made for him, ate the pastry, still not quite believing that he was on his way to Australia. That her heart was that big...
Just this once, he told himself. Just this once and he would go home, be a husband, a dad, a son. For now, his entire focus had to be on the race.
It was going to be a long day, a long flight. It was now Saturday in Sydney, around three in the afternoon, and he was already texting the chief engineer for an update. For the first time in his life, though, sailing wasn’t his entire life, and while his head was fully engaged, his heart was lagging far behind.
His phone still in his hand, he texted Eve.
I can’t believe how lucky I am. Or how stupid I am. I had a gift for you but I was distracted. You’ll find it in the pocket of my tux. x
* * *
The beep of an incoming message roused Eve. The words shimmered for a moment.
Lucky.
An adjective to join ‘thank you’ in the pantheon of the world’s most underwhelming words from a lover...
She put down the mug, went into the bedroom and picked up their discarded clothes. She checked Kit’s pockets, finding his keys and a package beautifully wrapped in red tissue paper and tied with gold ribbon.
She put them to one side, folded his tux and her dress to take to the dry cleaner, putting the rest of their clothes aside for the laundry.
The keys she tucked in the handbag that had been delivered, along with a change of clothes, to the cottage the previous day. The package she carried through to the kitchen, holding it to her, not sure what Kit would have thought appropriate. Afraid that whatever it was would be saying Thank you and I’m lucky...
She was still sitting there when Lucy tapped on the door. ‘Eve? Can I come in? You sounded a bit...’ She gave an awkward little shrug. ‘I thought a warm pastry might help. There’s buttered, chocolate, almond—oh, love...’ she exclaimed, dropping the bag on the counter and scooping Eve into her arms. ‘He’ll be okay,’ she said as Eve’s tears soaked into her T-shirt. ‘He’ll be back in no time.’
A month...
It would be a month. She’d known that and had told herself she was fine with it.
‘I’m so sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry but it was the almond croissant. So stupid.’
‘No. It’s the little things that get you.’
‘I’m sorry, Lucy. After all you’ve been through, you must think me totally pathetic.’
‘No. I think, we all think, that you are amazing.’
Lucy made coffee, chatting brightly, giving her a moment to pull herself together. ‘It was such a lovely wedding, Eve. Your dress was stunning and I nearly died when Kit kissed your hand. I’ve never seen anything so romantic, except maybe the look in his eyes in that moment when he said, “I love you...”’
‘What?’
‘Sorry. It was a totally private moment, but it can be so noisy on board that you get really good at lip-reading.’
That was what he’d said before he’d kissed her? I love you?
‘I...um...do you mind, Lucy? I need to take a shower, get dressed.’
‘Sure. I was just, you know...’ She bent and picked up Kit’s present. ‘You must have dropped this when I grabbed you for a hug. Red? Unusual for a bride gift.’
‘Kit called me Red the very first time he spoke to me.’
‘I can’t think why,’ Lucy said, grinning as she headed for the door. ‘See you later.’
Eve held the package for a moment, then pulled the ribbon, tore off the tissue paper. Inside was a square velvet box, too big for a pendant, maybe a watch...? Which would be totally weird.
Not a watch, but a bracelet. A very simple open coil of gold like nothing she’d ever seen, and beautiful in its own right. But on the inside was inscribed the first verse of the song written by Ewan MacColl for the woman he loved. The song about all those special first times. The song that Kit had arranged for them to dance to at their wedding.
She took her phone, heart in her hands as she wrote,
Come home safe, Kit Merchant. There’s something I have to tell you.
* * *
Kit didn’t miss his phone until he reached to put it in the tray, along with his laptop, belt and wallet, at airport security.
There was no time to go back and look for it. His flight had already been called and he barely had time to pick up a new pay-as-you-go in duty free. As soon as he was on board he called Brad and asked him to text him Eve’s number.
‘You don’t know it?’
‘My phone knows it,’ he said.
‘Oh, boy. Talk about husband fail.’
‘Just—’
‘I’m afraid I have to ask you to switch to flight mode, Mr Merchant.’
‘Now?’
‘The announcement was made a couple of minutes ago.’
‘Brad. Give Eve this number. Look after them...’
The stewardess was standing over him, sympathetic but emphatic. He didn’t bother with flight mode, just switched it off and put it away because there was nothing to see.
There were no vids of his little girl, or pictures of her with his dad, or playing on the beach.
No picture of Eve with paint on her cheek, of the two of them with Daisy, or dancing at the Nymba party.
Forget GPS. This felt like the Dark Ages.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THEY WERE SEA TRIALS, not a race and so not newsworthy. Eve checked the blog at least twice a day, but all the teams were cagey about revealing their times, their strategies and the only big news was that Kit, having cut short his honeymoon, was back.
He’d lost his phone, hadn’t got her text and so hadn’t asked what it was she’d wanted to tell him, but that was fine. Some things should be said face-to-face. It would wait.
His phone had been handed in at the airport and returned to her, but he’d picked up a new one at the airport and, having asked her to send him some photographs, said to hang onto it.
He called every morning to talk to Hannah in what, for them, was the late afternoon.
And, because he knew that she worried, he texted her a GIF of a red admiral butterfly every evening—long before dawn in Nantucket—so that when she woke up, she would know that he was safely back in harbour.
She didn’t wait until morning, of course. The beep of his text was enough to wake her. Then one night she just woke. There had been no beep, no butterfly. It wasn’t yet time but, wide awake and full of apprehension, she checked the team blog, then the news.
She made tea, checked again and waited. The newsflash about a freak storm hitting the Southern Ocean began to scroll across the screen just after four and she knew, deep in her heart, that he was in the middle of it.
She called Kit’s phone, but it went to straight to voicemail and she was already throwing stuff into a bag when her own phone rang. It was a call from the team office, hoping to catch her before she saw on the news that Kit, putting the new keel through a test, had been caught by the storm.
It was only confirmation of what she’d known, but she still had to hang on to the wardrobe door, her body like ice, her teeth chattering as she said, ‘Tell me you have contact?’
‘Not at the moment, Mrs Merchant. The storm is interfering with the signals... The navy have dispatched a ship to the area. I’ll call you as soon as I have more news.’
‘No. I’m coming there... I’ll be on the first available plane,’ she said, cutting the woman off when she tried to suggest it would be better to wait. She needed to call Brad and warn him before his mother saw the news.
‘Do you want to leave Hannah with us?’ he asked.
‘No, I want her to be the first thing Kit sees...’ She broke off.
‘He’ll be okay, Eve,’ he said, but he couldn’t hide the shake in his own voice. ‘I’ll organise t
he flights and call you back.’
She monitored the news until she had to switch her phone to flight mode, checking again once they reached Boston, but there was nothing.
The journey seemed endless. They had a three-hour layover in Dubai, where there was still no news, and it was nearly thirty hours after they left Boston before they arrived in Sydney.
They were met at the gate and whisked through immigration and customs by airport staff and at the gate by a representative from the sponsor, who booked them into a hotel and then took them to the quayside office.
The staff did their best to keep the press away from them, but they had managed to get pictures of the wedding and the headlines were inevitable.
New Bride Waits for News...
They dredged up the drama of his round-the-world race, Kit’s reputation for recklessness, everything she had ever dreaded. It read like an obituary, not just for him, but his team.
There were other families there. Partners, parents, children. They walked along the quay, eyes constantly scanning the horizon, drank so much coffee that they were all wired, ate food brought by the sponsors, all the time trying to ignore the press pack gathered to take photographs and stick microphones under their noses at the first sniff of disaster.
Needing some peace, Eve slipped away with Hannah, to choose an ice cream from a vendor who refused to take any money for it and found a quiet spot to sit for a while.
The clouds above them had been torn to shreds but Venus shone bright in the early evening sky. Kit could navigate by the stars, she told herself. He’d climbed a mast with broken fingers and lashed it together.
Men who could stand on a platform moving at fifty miles an hour were not mere mortals...
She heard someone running, calling her name. ‘Eve! They’re back!’
‘What?’
And then she saw it, bent out of shape, the huge wing sail a tattered wreck, but moving under its own power towards the quay.
Everyone surged forward as the crew disembarked one by one. Bruised, battered but grinning to be scooped up by family and friends.
Kit was the last to leave and as he stepped down everyone parted to let him through. He had a gash on his cheek, a massive bruise on his forearm, black hollows beneath his eyes, but he had never looked more perfect as he encircled her with his arms, picked her up and, without a word, kissed her.
There were flashes as the press filled their boots, clapping from everyone standing on the quay, his crew, their families, a chorus of hoots from craft in the harbour, saluting the man who had brought them all back safe.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ he said, when he’d set her down.
‘I love you, Kit. Where else would I be?’
He drew her back into his arms. ‘I swear I’ll never put you through that again.’
She clung to him for a moment, but then pulled back, shook her head. ‘I knew who you were when I married you, but there’ll be no more long-distance phone calls or night-time texts. We’ll stay while you get your yacht back up and running. While you race.’ She put her hands on either side of his dear battered face and said, ‘I love you, just as you are, Kit Merchant. All I ask is that you keep coming home safe.’
‘Daddy...’
He looked at Eve for a long time.
‘Daddy!’ Hannah tugged on his pants and he finally glanced down.
‘Hey, there, little Puddleduck.’ He bent and picked her up in one arm, keeping the other around Eve. ‘If you look in my bag you’ll find Ellie.’
‘Ellie?’
‘She’s a little elephant that belonged to your mama when she was a little girl.’
Hannah retrieved the grey velvet elephant and hugged her. ‘She smells like Mama.’
‘That’s because she hugged her so much. She’s very precious and I want you to look after her for me.’
‘For always?’
‘For always.’ He turned back to Eve. ‘I don’t need her, any more.’
‘Kit, no.’
‘Eve, yes. Out there, imagining that I might never see you again, or Hannah, I finally experienced the visceral, mind-numbing fear that my family went through when I did the round-the-world race. That you went through because you were carrying my child. What you all must have been feeling for the last couple of days. You and all these people,’ he said, looking at the families hugging his crew. ‘The storm came out of nowhere, slammed into us, ripping away the communications, driving us out to sea. It’s a miracle we didn’t lose anyone overboard.’
‘How did your keel hold up?’ she asked.
‘The keel saved us, but I could never race to the limit again, Eve. I have too much to lose. And if you can’t there is no point. It’s over.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s the easiest decision ever, next to marrying you. But I should call my mother. What time is it in Nantucket?’
Eve swallowed. ‘It makes no difference, Kit. She’ll be awake.’
He called his mother, reassured her that he was fine, handed the phone to Eve so that she could reassure her again.
‘He’s bruised, battered and stinks. Apart from that he’s absolutely perfect.’ She ended the call but didn’t give him back the phone. Instead she put it in her pocket. ‘You need a shower and ten hours’ sleep.’
‘Did I say I love you, Eve? Not just because you’re Hannah’s mom, but you.’
‘You did just fine,’ she said.
‘Did I? It should have been the first thing I said. It was all I could think about saying when we were out there, but when I saw you waiting for me it was like that first day after winter, when the sun feels warm. I love you, Eve, more than I knew was possible. I didn’t need Ellie out there. You were with me every minute, your smile, your warmth and I want all that, every day, and you beside me when I wake up for the rest of my life.’
‘You’ve got it.’
He touched her face with gritty, filthy fingers and then he said, ‘Who’s looking after Mungo?’
‘Lucy offered to move into the cottage while we’re away.’
‘So there’s no need to rush back. Let’s rent a place on the beach for a few weeks, just the three of us, and make the most of the Australian spring.’
‘I’d like that. And then, when we go home, we’ll start looking for a puppy.’
* * *
The opening of the Matthew Grainger Clinic was a very special occasion.
Matt’s sister, Lucy, who made a moving speech about how easy it was for anyone to slip into opiate addiction, thanked everyone for their generous donations. The new diamond flashed on her finger as she unveiled a plaque to commemorate the opening.
‘I felt like the Queen, swishing back that little curtain,’ she said.
Brad hugged her. ‘You are my queen.’
Eve, aware that Brad had waited until that weekend to propose in order to take her mind off today, said, ‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’
‘We thought Christmas,’ Lucy said. ‘Christmas weddings are so special but I’m going to need a little Christmas elf to help me through the day. I was hoping Hannah would be here so that I could ask if she could handle that.’
‘She’s having a sleepover with her cousins tonight, but I can confidently predict that she will be thrilled to be your elf.’
‘And you, Eve. Will you be my matron of honour?’
‘Oh, Lucy, bless your heart, I’d be so pleased to do that for you. Thank you for asking me. Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘You can come dress shopping with me. Your dress was so perfect.’
‘We’ll take Martha with us. She’s the one with the great taste.’
‘That would be wonderful. My to-do list is shrinking by the minute,’ she said, her eyes a touch too bright. ‘I just wish Matt was here to give me away.’
Eve knew how tough it was to have that kind of gap at her wedding; she handed her a tissue, gave her a hug and said, ‘Why don’t you ask Kit?’
‘Brad is going to want him as his best man.’
‘Brad would give you the moon if it would make you happy.’
She smiled. ‘I always wanted a big sister and you are just perfect, Eve. I’ll go and find Brad and ask him.’
‘What was that all about?’ Kit asked, joining her.
‘I’ve just volunteered you to give Lucy away. She’s off to ask Brad to release you from best man duties.’
‘I’m sure he’d rather have one of his own friends organise his stag.’
‘I don’t recall you having one,’ she said. ‘Or was it something so down and dirty that it was never to be spoken of?’
‘Brad offered to lead me astray, but I told him I’d rather spend the time with you.’
She looked at him askance. ‘Painting Hannah’s bedroom?’
He grinned. ‘Doing anything.’ He took her arm. ‘Have you seen the auction photographs Laura curated? We’re up there with Daisy.’
‘We?’ She looked at the board. ‘How did that happen? I gave her the one with just me and Daisy. That one is...’
‘Me looking at you as if I want to eat you.’
‘Yes, that,’ she said. ‘Besides you’ve no right to be there. You didn’t bid on the auction.’
‘Neither did Philippe d’Usay, an old friend of mine who hosted Jenna Brown on a trip to the South of France. From the look of this photograph I’d say they are very close.’
‘And look at this one.’ She checked the name. ‘“Maya Talbot, in a gondola with Vittorio Rameri.”’
‘He looks very happy.’
‘And so does she.’
They looked at some of the other photographs and then Eve spotted another couple. ‘“Molly Quinn with fellow guest Eric Chambault, enjoying a moment together while whale-watching.”’
‘He actually bid on the auction,’ Kit said. ‘She beat him at the last moment but he decided to go anyway. I’m sure it was pure chance they went the same week.’
