Читать книгу Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection - Josephine Cox - Страница 19

KATHY LOVED HER new job. Even the boss was pleasant to work with, and though he saw himself as a bit of a Romeo, she managed to keep him at bay.

‘He fancies you, so he does!’ The other woman who worked the desk with her was a red-haired, freckle-faced forty-year-old, an Irish lassie with an appetite for men and a way of detailing her previous flings with the same exuberance as Maggie. Her name was Rosie, and she had a laugh that would frighten horses. ‘I’ve seen the young rogue looking at yer arse,’ she told Kathy with big eyes and a knowing wink. ‘I’d watch him if I were you.’

Putting her finger to her lips, Kathy managed to quieten her. ‘He could be listening,’ she warned softly. ‘You’ll get us both the sack.’

Rosie laughed. ‘Ah, but he’ll never sack you!’ she said confidently. ‘At least, not until he’s had his wicked way with ye.’

Kathy chuckled. ‘If that’s the case, I’ll be working here till I’m old and grey.’

Just then the young man in question walked by with the area manager, the two of them deep in conversation. Tall and lanky, he towered above his superior. ‘He’ll be kept busy today, so he will,’ Rosie imparted. ‘That area manager is a right one. He wants everything just right, and woe betide anyone who steps out of line.’

Kathy observed the two men: the site manager, tall and lanky, with slightly stooped shoulders, and his superior, a short, stocky man with piercing eyes. ‘He looks like a nasty piece of work,’ Kathy whispered. ‘I wouldn’t want to get in his bad books.’

Now, as they went out the door, the site manager turned to smile at Kathy, his small eyes crinkling until they almost disappeared into his head. As the cool September wind blew in through the open doorway, his flyaway, fair hair stood up on end, making him look as though he’d had a fright of sorts.

‘Sure, he looks like one o’ the little people.’ Rosie stifled the giggles until he’d gone out the door. ‘Ah, now, how could you be making love to a man that looks like that?’ She fell about at the thought of it. ‘Sure, you’d never be able to concentrate your mind.’

As always, Rosie’s warped sense of humour had Kathy in stitches. ‘Rosie, you’re a wicked woman!’ Kathy chided, but when Rosie started she laughed until the tears ran down her face.

For the next two hours, they were kept busy. Being Saturday lunchtime, the holiday-makers were returning their keys and settling up before making their way back home.

The first to arrive was Ray Clitheroe, a haggard, worn-out fellow in his late forties. ‘Another holiday over,’ he groaned, ‘it’s back to work on Monday …!’ After paying his dues, the big, homely man leaned towards Kathy. ‘Thank God, that’s what I say!’

‘What? You mean you haven’t enjoyed staying with us?’ This was Kathy’s first encounter with him. ‘If you need to make a complaint I can pass it on.’

Rosie’s interruption was timely. ‘Hello there, Ray,’ she said with her best smile. ‘Glad to be off again, are ye? Sure, it surprises me you keep coming, when you always seem glad to get away. Anybody would think we didn’t look after ye, so they would.’

He gave a surprisingly shy grin. ‘Now stop the teasing,’ he told her sternly. ‘You know very well I can only stand so much of it.’

Kathy thought it a peculiar conversation, until she heard someone outside yelling at the top of her voice, ‘For Gawd’s sake, Ray, get a move on. The kids are beginning to get restless.’ That was his wife, a plump and shrew-like woman.

‘See you next year,’ he cried, rushing out through the door to six clambering children, and a torrent of abuse from his wife, who propelled him towards where the children were climbing and fighting and causing mayhem. ‘Sort ’em out!’ Having pushed him forward, she then retired to a safe distance and lit up her fag.

‘Ah, will ye look at the poor divil?’ Rosie sighed. ‘It’s no wonder he’s glad to get back to work.’

‘I bet he was good-looking when he was younger.’ Kathy had observed the strong physique and those bright blue eyes that in their time must have been able to charm a woman.

‘I dare say he was,’ Rosie agreed. ‘His wife must have been good-looking, too, before she went to seed.’ Kathy looked again at the woman, with her lank brown hair and double chin, and she could see how, even now, after having had six children, there was something about her that might be described as pretty. ‘I think you’re right,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘Oh, I am!’ Right or wrong, Rosie always defended the female of the species. ‘And don’t forget, it were him who got her with children one after the other. So don’t you go wasting too much sympathy there.’

The next person to return her keys was a woman of about thirty, a tarty peroxide blonde, her face thick with make-up. ‘Sure, ye could scrape it off with a knife,’ Rosie remarked as the woman went out the door. Luckily the woman didn’t hear, for if she had there would have been a stand-up scrap, as was her hot-tempered nature.

There followed a trail of caravanners, families and single folks, and couples on a dirty weekend, all leaving a small tip for the counter clerks and all vowing to come back next year.

‘See them two?’ Rosie gestured to a couple snogging in the doorway. ‘They’re both married to somebody else … having a naughty weekend away, so they are.’

Kathy was intrigued. ‘How do you know that?’ It seemed unlikely they would tell anyone.

‘Sure, they’ve been here before, when I used to clean out the caravans and chalets …’ She preened herself. ‘That was before I got promoted to receptionist. Mind you, I had to do a bit of creeping, but I don’t mind that. You get out what you put in … if you know what I mean.’ The look she gave spelt it out.

Blushing deep crimson, Kathy had to smile. ‘I can’t think what you mean,’ she remarked, feigning innocence.

‘Well, anyway … I were telling youse. I went off same as usual with my mop and bucket and all my cleaning paraphernalia. I usually started at number two and worked my way through to number eighteen, but on this particular day, number two had asked if I could leave it till later, on account of they wanted a lie-in. So, I started the other way round, and when I went merrily into number eighteen, thinking they’d already left for the day, I don’t mind telling you, I got the shock o’ my life, so I did!’

‘Why?’ Kathy was all ears. She had come to love hearing Rosie’s accounts of the things that went on in the caravan park. ‘What happened?’

Rosie lowered her voice. ‘I usually start in the bedroom and work my way out. So, as cool as ye please, I opened the door with my key and went in. I’d already heard all the grunting and groaning and never thought for a minute it were them … I imagined it were dogs fighting outside. Well, like I say, I opened the door, and they were that busy they never even heard me. Bold as brass, the two of them: him with his bare arse jiggling about in the air, and her spreadeagled on the bed underneath him. It’s enough to give a body the heart attack, so it is.’

By now, Kathy couldn’t tear herself away. ‘Whatever did you do?’

‘At first I didn’t move … my eyes were glued on his arse … up and down, it went … up and down, like one of them horses on a merry-go-round. Then, just as I stepped backwards, the floor creaked and he swung round.’ She laughed out loud. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Sure, you’ve never seen a sight like it in all your life!’

Kathy had conjured up the most vivid of images in her mind. ‘Then what?’

‘Well, he looked shocked and so did she, then he laughed and said, “Bloody hell, woman! For a minute I thought it were the wife!” He then pointed to the woman who was wriggling to get out from under. “Worse still, it could have been her husband, and you wouldn’t want to mess with him, I can tell you.”’

‘And did you leave then?’ Kathy’s face was hot with embarrassment. She hoped she would never be put in such a predicament.

‘Well, I was about to … I mean, I apologised and grovelled and said I didn’t realise, and he told me not to worry, but could I please go away and give them time to finish what they’d started.’

Kathy’s eyes grew big with amazement. ‘You’re having me on!’

‘I’m not! I swear to God Almighty, that’s what he said. Well, I had to run outta there, because I could feel the laughter bubbling up inside me. Once outside, I laughed all the way to the stockroom. And do ye know how long it took them to surface?’

‘I daren’t guess.’

‘Two hours!’ She chuckled at the memory. ‘They came into the storeroom and gave me a quid to keep my mouth shut. “Don’t let on to a soul what I told you,” the man said, and I never have … until now.’

After the last of the caravanners had gone, Kathy thought how fortunate she had been to land this job, with a workmate like Rosie. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would still be behind this desk next year. Or would she have moved on to pastures new? For now she was happy enough in her work; with Rosie working alongside her, making her laugh, the hours just seemed to rush by.

‘Right!’ Rosie gave her a nudge. ‘That’s it for the day.’

Making the last entry into the ledger, Kathy glanced up at the clock. It was pointing to midday. ‘My God! I didn’t realise it was that time!’ Closing the ledger, she helped Rosie hang the many keys in their rightful place on the board.

Just then, the weekend shift arrived to take over. ‘Fancy a drink before you get off?’ At the minute, Rosie was without a man-friend and, as she had told Kathy many a time, her family were too far away for her to visit too often. ‘I’ve a thirst on me like a navvy,’ she said. ‘Will ye join me in a little drink?’

Going through the main bar, they ordered their drinks – a Bacardi for Rosie, and a long cool glass of orange for Kathy. ‘Look, I’m a bit short o’ cash,’ Rosie began.

‘Don’t worry.’ Kathy was used to Rosie’s excuses and, as always, she discreetly brushed it aside. ‘This is my treat.’ The sad truth was that Rosie liked a drink too much. She’d be paid on a Friday and, after a wild night out in Weymouth, she’d have to scrimp and save for the whole week. But Kathy didn’t hold that against her. She knew all too well what it was like to be lonely, and if that was how Rosie coped, then it was nobody’s business but her own.

When the drinks arrived, they carried them outside to the terrace. ‘It’s getting chilly.’ Rosie took a great gulp of her drink. ‘Come September, there doesn’t seem to be the same warmth in the sun. Don’t ye think so, Kathy?’

Glancing up at the drifting clouds, Kathy agreed, though, ‘I hope we haven’t seen the last of summer just yet,’ she mused.

Sitting there, lazily chatting with her new-found friend, Kathy thought she had never been happier. Now, as the clouds shifted and the sun struggled through, she looked across at the harbour and the people strolling by. An image of Tom suddenly came into her mind. She felt her face flush.

‘Penny for them?’ Rosie’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Kathy apologised. ‘Sorry, Rosie. I was miles away.’

‘Huh! Sure, I could see that for myself.’ She took a swig of her drink. ‘Was it your man ye were thinking of?’

Kathy blushed again. ‘What man?’

Rosie gave a wry little smile. ‘Ah, sure didn’t I see him walking you home from work the other night, and didn’t the stars sparkle in your eyes when you looked up at him?’

Kathy laughed. ‘Nonsense!’ she said firmly.

‘Ah well, we’ll see about that,’ Rosie declared. ‘I’m just a born romantic, me.’ Taking another swig of her drink, she asked, ‘So he’s not your man, then?’

Kathy was slow to answer, because she wasn’t at all sure what she felt, never mind what his intentions were. ‘He doesn’t say much about the way he feels,’ she said finally. ‘He hardly ever talks about himself, or his past. I’m not sure he views me as anything more than a friend.’

‘What do you feel about him?’ Once Rosie had a drink inside her, there were no boundaries to what she might say. Besides, she had come to like Kathy a lot, and wanted her to be happy.

Kathy thought. ‘I really like him,’ she said, ‘but sometimes I wish I didn’t.’ No sooner were the words out than she regretted them; she realised she did want to be more than his friend.

‘Have ye told him?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because there’s something about him … some private thing that makes me keep a distance. When we’re together I feel he needs to talk, but then he suddenly clams up and that’s that.’

‘He’s got troubles of a kind … is that what you’re saying?’

‘I’m not sure. All I know is, we have been alone on a few occasions, but sometimes he seems to be somewhere else … miles away. Yes, he does seem to be troubled about something, and though I feel he wants to discuss it, he doesn’t seem able to.’

‘Do you think he is keen on you?’

Kathy smiled at the prospect. ‘Like I say, I’m really not sure.’

‘Why don’t ye ask him?’

Kathy shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Why not? You want to know where ye stand, don’t ye?’

‘Not if it frightens him off.’ Leaning forward, Kathy said quietly, ‘Oh, Rosie! He seems such a special man, I’m afraid to spoil it.’

Not wanting to step over that line between concern and interference, Rosie backed off. She could see how deeply Kathy felt about Tom.

They both relaxed, drinking their drinks and, for a time, content to watch the world go by.

While Rosie dreamed of love won and lost, Kathy thought about Tom and how he did seem haunted by something. But she never doubted his love for her, not really, because she sensed it every time he looked at her.

Just then Rosie voiced what was on Kathy’s mind. ‘Is he married, d’ye think?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Kathy was quick to answer. It was good to discuss it with Rosie, as long as she could be discreet. ‘I’m sure Jasper would have mentioned his wife if he had one.’

‘Have you ever seen him with a woman?’

‘Never.’

‘Have ye been to his house?’

‘No.’

Rosie thought on that for a minute before stating the obvious: ‘He could be hiding something.’

‘Such as what?’ Kathy didn’t care much for this line of thought, but she had to admit to herself that all these things had already crossed her mind.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Rosie answered, ‘but if I were you, I’d find out before ye get too deep in love it breaks your heart.’ She paused for a minute, her mind wandering back over the years. ‘I’ve been through all that, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.’

‘I know what you mean, Rosie,’ Kathy replied quietly. ‘And I appreciate you worrying about me.’ She had told Rosie that she was divorced, that Dan had left her, and she knew her new friend was looking out for her. She gave a whimsical smile. ‘But the truth is, I think about him when I go to sleep, and when I wake, and all day long he’s never far from my mind.’

Rosie groaned. ‘Dear mother of God, you’re a lost cause, so ye are.’

Kathy laughed. ‘Thanks for that!’ Taking a long gulp of her drink, she then confided, ‘Jasper goes in Tom’s house often. He’d know if Tom was hiding anything.’

‘Is Jasper that old fella with the beard and whiskers … a kind of rough-looking Father Christmas?’ Rosie asked.

Kathy laughed. ‘He’s the one. The best friend a man could ever have, that’s what Tom says, and I agree with him.’

Rosie nodded. ‘I’ve passed the time of day with him myself. He’s a lively old bloke … always ready to set the world to rights.’ She was curious. ‘How well d’you know him, then?’

‘He just kind of turned up on my doorstep. He saw me there and we got talking. Apparently, he knew about my father and Liz. He helped me to get myself sorted out with the house and everything, and now he comes round often. It was Jasper who organised the outing to Weymouth the other week, you know, when Tom bought the sailing boat.’ She’d told Rosie all about that special day.

‘Did Tom seem keen then?’

‘He seemed to like talking to me on the bus. And he told me what a lovely time he’d had.’

‘Ah, sure, is that all?’ Rosie was sceptical. ‘To my mind he either loves ye or he doesn’t. A girl needs to know where she stands, so she does.’

‘So, you’d ask him, would you?’

Rosie thought on that. ‘Well, mebbe not. Y’see, if ye ask him, ye might frighten him off, then your chance is gone for good. On the other hand, if ye don’t ask him, you may never know where ye stand. The two of youse could go on for years and in the end it could lead nowhere.’

‘I’ll have to take that chance.’ Kathy could not see herself asking Tom how he felt about her. It was too early. Too bold.

‘There ye are then.’ Rosie sighed. ‘Like I said … you’re a lost cause.’ She drained her glass. ‘I’d best be off. I’ve to get meself ready for a date. Y’see, there’s this caravanner who wants to take me out for a night on the tiles, and who am I to waste an opportunity like that, eh?’

Kathy had a warning. ‘Be careful, Rosie. Some of these single blokes are only out for what they can get.’

‘Ah sure, don’t I know that?’ She giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘And I don’t give a damn.’

She went away down the street waving and chuckling, and Kathy waved back. ‘Have a nice time,’ she murmured with a little smile, ‘and don’t get into mischief.’ Rosie was made in the same mould as Maggie, she thought, and, rain or shine, she wouldn’t want either of them any different.

‘D’yer want that drink, missus?’ The little cockney boy had slid into Rosie’s seat without Kathy seeing. ‘’Cause if you don’t want it, you might as well give it to me.’

Momentarily taken aback, Kathy recognised the little chap as being one of the caravanners whose mother, with one other child, had only recently arrived at the site. The mother appeared to have little money; from what Rosie had told her, the woman’s husband had paid in advance to book them all into the caravan and promptly ran off with some woman, supposedly a friend of theirs.

Angry and disillusioned, the mother had been determined to enjoy their holiday anyway. As she said to Rosie, ‘To hell with him … before too long he’ll come back, wanting his warm bed and an easy meal on the table, but when he does he’ll be shown the door, you can depend on that.’

Without hesitation, Rosie had been in full agreement. ‘You do right,’ she told the hapless woman. ‘Men like that want their doofers chopped off.’ Though, knowing Rosie, Kathy thought that would be the last thing she wanted … for any man to be without his ‘doofer’, as she called it.

‘Well, missus, do I get the drink or not?’

Kathy pushed the glass of orange towards him. ‘I’d had enough anyway,’ she told him with a smile. ‘Go on, son. You finish it if you want.’

‘Cor, thanks, missus!’ In minutes he had wolfed the drink down. ‘Mam says we can’t afford luxuries,’ he said, his eyes filled with tears. ‘She says our old man’s run off with his tart, and we’ll have to go without.’

‘Without what?’

His little face was downcast. ‘Everything! Me dad promised we’d be going on the donkeys in Weymouth and we’d ’ave ice-cream. He said if we were good he might take us for a ride in one o’ them boats … he said sometimes if you pay, they let you take them out all by yourself.’ He glanced up, his eyes alive with anger. ‘An’ now we ain’t gonna get nuffin.’ As he talked he nervously wound his tiny fists one into the other. ‘I hate him.’ His bottom lip began to tremble. ‘I hate him!’

Aware that at any minute he would burst into tears, Kathy put a comforting arm round his shoulders. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said. ‘How about if I treat you to an ice-cream? A big strawberry cornet, with chocolate sauce on top.’

Though he licked his lips at the prospect, he shook his head. ‘Naw. Me mam says she’ll tan me arse if I take anything from strangers. I shouldn’t have had that drink, only I were thirsty, and she ain’t got no money.’ He thought about the ice-cream and wondered if it would be all right, but then he shook his head. ‘Naw. I’d best not, missus.’

‘What if we find your mammy and ask her?’

As it turned out, they didn’t have to look far for her, because just then she could be heard calling for him, and a moment later she appeared from round the corner. ‘Where’ve you been, you little sod?’ Taking him by the scruff of the neck, she told Kathy, ‘I’m sorry if he’s been a nuisance. He keeps wandering off, and I can’t keep track of him.’

Kathy assured her he had been fine. ‘In fact, I was thinking of asking you a favour.’ She could see how, in spite of her bravado, the poor woman looked haggard and pale. It must be hard for her to cope, she thought.

The woman was instantly suspicious. ‘What kind o’ favour?’

‘I could take him off your hands for half an hour if you like … give you a break?’

‘Why? What you got in mind?’ God only knew she could do with a break. The girl was too young to realise what was happening, but not the boy. He was in such a rebellious mood, she didn’t know how to deal with him.

Kathy understood her dilemma. ‘He’ll be safe enough, I promise. I thought I might get him an ice-cream and take him down to see the boats … if that’s all right with you? A friend of mine has just bought a small boat. I’m sure, if we asked him, he wouldn’t mind letting your lad go aboard … just to have a look round.’

‘Oh, please, Mam!’ By this time the boy was leaping up and down. ‘Please!’

The woman studied Kathy for a minute; it wasn’t often anyone was kind to them. ‘You’re from the reception, ain’t yer?’

Kathy nodded. ‘I work with Rosie, yes.’

The woman laughed, a roar of a laugh that stopped passers-by in their tracks. ‘That Rosie’s a buggeroota and no mistake! If she had her way she’d cut my old man’s doofer off, that’s what she said, and I reckon she’s right an’ all!’

When she’d composed herself, the woman said, ‘Go on then, Frank. But only for half an hour. Keep an eye on him,’ she said to Kathy, ‘’cause he’s like slippery Jack: you never know where he’ll be off to next. He might be a bag o’ trouble, and there are times when I could swing for ’im.’ She smiled down on the boy, who returned the smile with affection. ‘But I don’t want him drowning.’

So it was agreed.

‘Where’s the boat?’ Frank asked for the umpteenth time.

‘Just there.’ Kathy pointed to the small boat moored at the harbour. ‘The one with the furled-down sails.’ Amongst the fishing boats it was easy to spot.

‘All right. I’ll be there in half an hour to collect him.’ Wagging a finger at the boy, his mother told him, ‘You behave yourself, or there’ll be a smack o’ the arse waiting for you when I get back!’ With that, and the other, small child in her arms, she went away, ‘To sit by the river and watch the ducks,’ she said.

Kathy had bought him an ice-cream, just as she had promised, with a river of chocolate sauce running down the sides; while he slurped at that – with ice-cream and sauce mingling to form all manner of patterns on his shirt – she led him down to the harbour. When he’d finished, she wiped his face and shirt with her handkerchief, until at length he looked near enough respectable.

‘I’m not sure if my friend is on the boat,’ she explained. ‘If not, I’m sure Jasper will be there. He’ll persuade one of the fishermen to let you on board.’

‘Who’s Jasper?’

‘He’s another friend.’

‘That’s a funny name.’

‘It suits him though.’

‘What does he look like?’

Kathy smiled. ‘Rosie says he’s a rough-looking Father Christmas.’

The boy laughed. ‘There ain’t no Father Christmas.’

Kathy was shocked. ‘Who told you that?’

‘My dad.’

‘Well, I believe in Father Christmas, and I don’t care what anybody says.’

There was a minute of quiet contemplation while Frank considered Kathy’s profound statement, after which he declared boldly, ‘I believe in Father Christmas too!’

Kathy squeezed his hand. ‘Good for you!’ If she did nothing else today, she had restored a child’s belief.

As they approached the harbour, Kathy could see Tom on the decking. ‘TOM!’ Having caught his attention, she took the boy at a run over the little bridge. ‘We need to ask you a favour,’ she said breathlessly.

Tom looked pleased to see her. ‘Who’s your little friend?’

Kathy looked down at the boy. ‘This is Frank.’

Tom held out his hand in greeting. ‘Hello, Frank,’ he said.

The boy was wary of Tom, but not shy. ‘Hello, mister. Can I come on your boat?’

Laughing, Tom ushered them aboard. While the boy scouted about at the helm, Kathy gave Tom a brief resumé of the boy’s background. ‘His mother’s doing the best she can, but the children are having to go without.’

Tom thought it was a sad affair. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll see what we can do to make his holiday one to remember.’ For a moment, he gazed at her, then smiled and nodded. Placing his hand lightly on her back, he ushered her inside to where the boy was pretending to be captain. ‘Will it go?’ he asked.

‘Will what go?’ Tom thought of his own son, and the pain was like a fist inside his heart.

‘This boat. Will it go?’

‘Yes, it will,’ he said as he sat beside the boy, ‘but I’m not yet up to taking her out to sea.’

The boy’s disappointment was obvious. ‘Why not?’

Tom tried to explain. ‘I’ve only just got it. There’s a lot to learn before I can take her right out.’

Seeing the boy’s despondence, he had an idea. ‘Look, I’ll tell you what. Let me have a word with an old friend of mine. I’m sure we can wangle something for you.’

‘Is he called Jasper?’

‘Well, yes …’ He glanced up at Kathy, who gave him a knowing wink. ‘So, you already know him, do you?’

‘Kathy told me about him!’ His smile lit the day. ‘He’s the one as looks like Father Christmas. My dad says there ain’t no Father Christmas, but me and her know different, don’t we?’ Gesturing with his thumb, he nodded appreciatively when Kathy confirmed his assertion with a smile.

Leaving Kathy and Frank on board, Tom set off to find Jasper. He tracked him down aboard one of the fishing boats. Jasper and his mate, Jack Plummer, were sitting, pipe-smoking and enjoying a glass of cider.

Tom quickly explained the situation; both men thought the boy should have the treat of his life. ‘Fetch him along,’ Jack said. ‘We’ll take him up to the headland and back.’

When Tom told him what the plan was, Frank was beside himself with excitement. ‘Can I drive?’

‘You’ll have to ask the skipper.’

Once on board, Jack handed Kathy the smallest lifejacket he could find. ‘Put this on the boy,’ he ordered. ‘And here’s another for yourself. Nobody comes out on this boat without wearing a lifejacket.’

When all four were suitably dressed, the skipper kicked the engine into life, and they were away, with the boy whooping and hollering, and Kathy being thrown from side to side. ‘You haven’t got your sea-legs yet,’ Jasper told her. ‘You’ll have to come out more often, so ye will.’

While the boy sat in the wheelhouse with Jasper and the skipper, Kathy and Tom kept out of the way. There wasn’t enough room for all of them in there, so they stood at the stern amid the buckets, ropes and nets, watching the water churning in the boat’s wake, and feeling content in each other’s company. ‘He’s a smart little boy,’ Tom remarked. ‘It’s a pity his father’s gone off and left him. A boy needs his father.’

He watched the boy for a time, taking great delight in his antics at the wheel. Wearing the boatman’s oversized cap, he was pretending to be skipper. ‘So, he thinks Jasper is Father Christmas?’ Tom laughed at the idea. ‘That’s you, is it?’

‘No, it’s Rosie’s fault.’ Kathy relayed the discussion she and the boy had had on the way to the harbour. ‘His father told him there was no Father Christmas, and I’m afraid I disputed that.’

Tom condoned what Kathy had done. ‘That’s a sad thing for a father to tell the boy,’ he murmured. ‘Kids need to believe in magic. We all do.’

He thought of the many times when his own children’s eyes had lit up when faced with the magic of Christmas trees, and presents that had ‘come down the chimney’. He remembered them being mesmerised by tales of how the little people helped Father Christmas prepare all the toys, ready for deliveries through the night. It was tradition; it was fantasy and wonder; it gave only pleasure. He thought of all that, and was saddened by the awful knowledge that his own children had never gone beyond that innocent state of wonder, before their young lives had been cut short.

Kathy had wondered at his comment, and now she wondered at his prolonged silence. When, like now, he lapsed into that dark, secret mood, she knew he was somewhere she could not go. It was as if a barrier had gone up between them, and unless he trusted her enough to confide in her, she had no way of breaking it down.

She could hear Frank laughing and shouting in the wheelhouse, and Jasper explaining everything to him. Suddenly, they made a sharp turn; the boy could hardly contain his enthusiasm, ‘It’s like the funfair!’ As they bounced from wave to wave, he was overwhelmed with excitement.

All too soon, the short boat ride was over. When his mother came to collect him, the boy was full of it. ‘Cor, you should have seen me!’ As they went away, he could be heard telling her all about the boat and how the water splashed up on the deck, and he even wore the skipper’s cap. ‘I’ll be good at school,’ he promised, ‘because when I grow up, I want to be a fisherman!’

Somewhere in amongst all that excitement was his proud declaration that, ‘Daddy was wrong. There is a Father Christmas! I’ve seen him.’ He chatted on and on, a very different little boy from the sorry, thirsty child who had sidled up to Kathy earlier.

As they turned the corner, before disappearing out of sight, his mother glanced back. When her gaze alighted on Kathy, she smiled. And Kathy understood.

‘You’re a natural with children,’ Tom remarked as they walked back to his boat.

‘I love kids,’ she confessed. ‘I always said I’d have four – two of each.’ She laughed. ‘Trouble is, we can’t have them to order, can we?’

When they reached the boat and Kathy prepared to carry on home, he put out a hand to keep her there. ‘Don’t go yet, Kathy.’ There was a well of emotion in his quiet voice. ‘Please?’

Kathy gave a nervous little laugh. ‘I won’t, not if you don’t want me to.’

‘Come on then!’ Greatly relieved, he said, ‘Come aboard.’

Having hoped he would ask her to stay, Kathy was suddenly afraid. She thought about Rosie’s warning, that he might break her heart. She was already beginning to fall in love with him. But what if he didn’t have the same feelings for her? What if she was making a rod for her own back by keeping company with him? She didn’t want more heartbreak. Suddenly, all the old doubts came alive in her mind.

‘I make a great cup of tea.’ His voice was soft in her ear, his smile enticing.

She nodded. ‘All right.’ She smiled. As he helped her up the gangplank, all the doubts seemed to vanish.

While Tom busied himself in the tiny galley, she took the opportunity to have another look round. ‘It seems different from before, when you went to buy it.’ She was outside now, seated on the bench in the well of the stern. ‘It’s lovely, Tom. Really lovely.’

Emerging with the tray, he explained, ‘I found some ginger-nuts in the cupboard. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been partial to a ginger-nut.’ The tray also contained milk, sugar, two cups and saucers and a huge pot of tea. ‘I’ve made plenty.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘I figured, the more you have to eat and drink, the longer I might keep you here.’

Placing the tray on an upturned crate, he proceeded to pour the tea. ‘How do you like it?’

‘One sugar, plenty of milk.’ Kathy’s heart was racing after what he had said, and she was content to let him do the pouring. ‘Oh, and I might as well have a ginger-nut, seeing as you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing them out.’ Reaching forward, she helped herself to one. ‘You love this boat, don’t you?’ She felt so easy with him, it was incredible.

He glanced at her. ‘I do, yes.’ He wanted to say more, but the words were locked in, and he couldn’t let them out.

‘You said the boat was “different”,’ he reminded her.

Kathy took a sip of her tea. ‘Yes, I did.’ Turning her head, she looked back inside. Somehow the boat seemed to have taken on a heart since she had last seen it. ‘You’ve turned it into a home,’ she said. ‘Look at that – with the sun coming out, and the portholes open to the breeze, the whole place seems larger and brighter.’ There’s something else, too, she thought. There was an air of belonging … a sense of achievement. ‘It’s got your stamp all over it,’ she said. ‘I think it’s … lovely!’

Sitting on the curve of the seat, he looked at her for a moment, the merest suggestion of a smile in his eyes as he said softly, ‘I think you’re lovely.’

Kathy had never been one for blushing, but since meeting Tom she seemed to be blushing all the time. She blushed now, shrugged her shoulders; she didn’t know quite what to say. ‘Are you happy with the boat, Tom?’ she stammered. ‘Will you take her out soon?’

He laughed. ‘I’m not ready yet.’

Pointing to the tunnel of water that led out to sea, he explained, ‘That’s the thing I’m worried about … some days the water thrashes about like a demon. On bad days, I’ve seen experienced sailors get thrown about like matchwood. No, I’ve got to be a better sailor than I am now before I dare attempt it. Jasper reckons I’ll be good enough to take the wheel pretty soon.’

‘Tom?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you tell me something?’

He grew anxious. ‘Depends what it is. But ask me anyway, and we’ll see.’ He had an idea what she was about to ask, and he had been dreading it.

‘It was something Rosie said.’

‘Who’s Rosie?’

‘A woman I work with.’ She smiled. ‘Lately, she’s taken it on herself to look after my interests.’

He nodded. ‘I see. And she’s told you to be careful of me, that I could be married, and trying to take advantage of you?’ He sensed her dilemma, and knew the moment had come when he had to be straight with her. Kathy was special to him and he didn’t want to lose her, yet neither did he feel able to confide in her … about what happened that day on the cliff, or what his true feelings were towards her now. How could he confide those things, when what happened was still so raw inside him?

Aware of his confusion, yet not knowing how to deal with it, Kathy apologised. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Please … just forget I ever said anything.’

‘I can’t!’ He fought the inner struggle and was determined. ‘You have a right to know.’ He took another drink of his tea and, taking a deep breath, he turned to face her. With great difficulty, he began to describe what had happened. ‘In a way, I am married,’ he said quietly. ‘Though my wife isn’t alive on this earth, she’s very much a part of my life, and probably always will be until I find out why she was taken.’

‘No, please, Tom, don’t!’

Kathy had never seen anyone in such great pain as he seemed to be now. His hands were clenched and trembling and his voice almost inaudible; his face was etched with such powerful emotion, and he was clearly finding it difficult to talk.

‘It’s all right,’ she told him again, ‘you don’t have to tell me anything.’ She wished she could turn back the clock to that moment before she put the question, because now she had unleashed something that made her afraid. Why couldn’t she have left things as they were? Now it was spoilt; she was putting him through all kinds of agony, and he might never forgive her.

‘I have to tell you,’ he answered softly, ‘I want to.’

When he reached out to take her hand, she held him tight, waiting for him to go on, but it seemed an age before he began to describe his family, and how happy they were. ‘I was a lucky man,’ he said. ‘We had a beautiful house, no money troubles. I had a job that took me all over the country, though there were times when I would rather have stayed home with the family. I had a wife who loved me and two adorable children.’ His voice broke. ‘They were my life!’

Pausing to remember, he went on. ‘It was over a year ago now. We were returning home from a visit to the seaside – Bournemouth. It was a day much like today: the sun was shining and the kids were fighting in the back, as usual …’ He smiled, a painful, sorry smile that tore at Kathy’s heart. ‘I remember … the coastal roads were clear, and we were making good time.’

Like so many times before, he tried hard to remember every little detail of what happened. ‘I saw the car in my rear-view mirror … it was blue; I think it was a Hillman, or it could have been a Morris, I didn’t have time to get a good look. It got closer and closer, and I suddenly realised it was too close … he was on my tail … I could see he meant to hit us! Dear God … what was he doing? I yelled, but he couldn’t hear me … I couldn’t see his face … he was wearing dark glasses … his hat was pulled down low.’

He leaned back, closing his eyes, composing himself … reliving every minute of that terrible day.

Closing her hand over his, Kathy gave him strength.

He opened his eyes and glanced down at her upturned face. ‘There are times when it overwhelms me,’ he confessed. ‘I can’t sleep, and I can’t think straight. Then I have to walk the floor until the rage inside me begins to settle.’

He told her everything, every now and then his voice breaking and his hand gripping hers so hard that she could feel the blood flow out. ‘They tried to say it must have been an accident, but it was no accident, I can tell you. He came at me with the intention of sending me over that cliff.’ In his mind’s eye he could see the car bearing down on them. ‘Can you imagine? We were being driven over the cliff and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it! It was all too fast and furious … that maniac meant to kill us all, there’s no doubt in my mind about it!’

As he described the way it had been, it was as though he was there again, on that day, in the car, and the driver of the other car ramming them time and again. ‘I couldn’t turn … can you imagine, we were heading over the cliff, and I couldn’t turn the car. The kids were screaming … my wife … terrified. Oh, dear God!’

With a suddenness that startled Kathy, he sprang off the bench and hurried into the cabin. When Kathy found him he was slumped on the seat in the corner, his hands over his face. ‘I’m sorry.’ He looked up, his tear-stained face haggard. ‘I thought I could talk about it without breaking down.’

‘It’s all right.’ Kathy had been shocked by his story. ‘Don’t say any more.’ Sitting on the floor, she held his hands and, looking up, told him, ‘You don’t need to go on. I understand now why you seem so lonely at times … I do understand, Tom, and there’s no need to punish yourself.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Kathy. I need to tell you,’ he murmured. ‘I want you, of all people, to know what happened.’

After taking a moment, he went on. ‘We went over the cliff. There was this awful silence. After the revving engines and the impact of bumper on bumper … the children’s cries and my wife shouting for them to lie down … it seemed eerie somehow. Then the kids started screaming again …’ His voice broke.

‘We seemed to hang in the air, and then I remember hitting the ground, the car bouncing … then … nothing. Later, when I woke up in hospital, they told me they were all gone … my wife, the children … all gone!’

Leaning forward, he put his hands over his face and tried to shut it out, but the memories were too vivid. ‘Whoever drove us over that cliff meant to kill us.’ He was sure of it. ‘For some reason I may never know, he wanted us all dead.’

Shocked to her roots, Kathy asked softly, ‘I don’t understand … Why would anyone want to kill an entire family?’

‘I’ve no idea. I’ve racked my brains and I don’t understand it any more than you do.’

‘Did they find him?’

Tom shook his head. ‘It wasn’t for want of trying. The police did all they could, and so did I … as much as I was able. But neither the car nor the driver were ever found.’

‘And you can’t rest until he’s hunted down, that’s it, isn’t it?’ Kathy felt a sense of relief, though it was mingled with fear for his safety.

‘Yes.’ He was glad he’d told her. ‘I gave up my job, sold the flat, and moved here to West Bay, hoping to find some sort of peace,’ he confessed. ‘But there will never be any peace, until I find out … who? And why?’ A terrible anger filled his soul. ‘I want him hanged for what he did.’

Kathy felt his hatred. It was like a physical force. ‘You said you couldn’t see the driver?’

‘Not clearly, no.’ He was intrigued. ‘Why? What are you getting at?’

‘Well, if you couldn’t see the driver … how can you be certain it was a man?’

Startled by her comment, he looked up. ‘My God! You’re right, it could have been a woman! It could have been anyone!’ That idea had never occurred to him, but now, thanks to Kathy, it was something else to bear in mind.

‘You’re going back, aren’t you?’ Kathy could see it in his eyes. ‘You came here to heal, and now you’re going back to try and find whoever did it?’

‘I have to.’ His soft smile was reassuring. ‘But not yet. I’m not ready yet.’

‘When?’

‘Very soon. My mind’s beginning to clear. I can almost think it through without everything clouding over. But, if I’m to track the bastard down, I need a little more time. I need to control the hatred.’ He shuddered with emotion. ‘Right now, the hatred is controlling me.’

Getting up onto her knees, Kathy looked him in the eye, her voice tender when she asked, ‘Then, will you be able to –’ she hesitated to ask after what he had just told her, but the words needed to be spoken – ‘do you think you’ll ever be able to love again?’

‘Oh, my Kathy …’ Reaching out, he cupped her face in his strong, gentle hands, and, looking down into her eyes, he whispered the words she had wanted to hear. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more in this world than to make a life here, with you. But it has to be right … everything in its place.’

For no reason she could imagine, Kathy began crying – soft, wonderful tears that fell down her face and wet the palms of his hands. ‘I love you,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t go.’ She was so afraid for him. ‘There’s someone out there who wants you dead. Don’t go, Tom. Please … don’t go.’

He leaned forward, his face almost touching hers, his warm breath fanning her face. ‘I have to. You must know that.’ Looking at her now, seeing the love and concern she felt for him, he would have given anything to stay, but he couldn’t. The time to go was almost on him.

She nodded, and now, as she began to speak again, he slid to his knees and, caressing her face, drew her closer, his arms strong about her and his mouth closing over hers; in that precious moment, the love between them blossomed.

Though it was wrong of him, he wanted to make love to her there and then, but his emotions were too stirred.

They kissed and talked, and though she wanted him with every nerve in her body, Kathy knew it wouldn’t be right. But their time would come, she told herself, and when it did, God willing, they would have their whole lives together.

As he held and caressed her, Tom yearned to take her to himself; there was a minute when his hands slid down her dress and brushed her breast, and all the manhood in him cried out for her. But then he slumped back, the images of his wife and family tormenting him. ‘I can’t.’ He wondered if he would ever be free. ‘Forgive me, Kathy. It’s too soon.’ His one terrible fear was that the demons of that day might never leave him.

Kathy didn’t speak. Instead she wound her arms about him, and there, on the floor of the boat, gently rocked by the rolling movements of the water, they sat and talked, and it was a tender, unforgettable thing. ‘We love each other,’ she murmured, gently kissing his neck, his face, and then his mouth. ‘We can wait.’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he promised. ‘When it’s all over, I swear to God, I’ll make it up to you.’ Wrapping his strong arms about her, he drew her to him. It felt good; with her head resting on his shoulder and the warmth of their bodies mingling, he thought there could be no more heaven than this.

For a long time they lay there, content in each other’s company, the silence broken only by the sound of water lapping against the harbour wall outside.

The gentle rolling movement lulled their senses, and, for now at least, anxiety fell away, and all was well with the world.