Survivor

by Lesley Pearse

  Lesley Pearse

  SURVIVOR

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Follow Penguin

  By the same author

  Georgia

  Charity

  Tara

  Ellie

  Camellia

  Rosie

  Charlie

  Never Look Back

  Trust Me

  Father Unknown

  Till We Meet Again

  Remember Me

  Secrets

  A Lesser Evil

  Hope

  Faith

  Gypsy

  Stolen

  Belle

  The Promise

  Forgive Me

  To my beautiful granddaughter Sienna Marie, born 9 December 2012. Sister to Harley and bringing extra joy to my daughter Jo, her partner Otis, and to all the rest of our family.

  1

  Russell, New Zealand, 1931

  ‘Mariette is so …’ Miss Quigley paused, her thin lips pursed as she searched for a suitable adjective to describe her errant pupil. ‘So defiant!’

  Belle resisted the temptation to smile at the schoolmistress’s description of her eleven-year-old daughter. When Belle was a child, it was often said of her too.

  It was around half past four, and Miss Quigley had called on Belle after dismissing her pupils for the day.

  Belle had shown the teacher into the parlour as a mark of respect, but she had no intention of offering tea as she didn’t want to encourage the woman to linger. ‘I think what you are seeing is just a sign of a strong character. What exactly has she been up to that you find so distressing?’

  ‘I have no particular incident to illustrate it, but she challenges everything I say. Just the other day I was telling the class how many New Zealand soldiers lost their lives in the Great War, and she claimed that France lost twenty-five per cent of her men.’

  ‘But that’s true,’ Belle said. ‘I wouldn’t call it defiance to point that out – especially when her father is French and fought for his country.’

  It was tempting to add that Etienne had been awarded the Croix de Guerre for his courage, but he wouldn’t like her to boast about that.

  Miss Quigley crossed her arms. ‘But she has a view on everything! I also get very irritated by her teaching the other children dubious French phrases.’

  ‘I think you’ll find there is nothing dubious about them, she just likes the sound of the language. I doubt very much that it is anything more than, “Please pass me a pencil,” or, “It’s very hot today.” Both her father and I wish her to be bilingual, and we are delighted with her progress.’

  Miss Quigley’s disapproving sniff was evidence that she regarded teaching a child French as something subversive. ‘She is overconfident.’ She rapped this out like an insult. ‘She’s always the first child to speak out, takes the lead in everything.’

  ‘I’m very sorry you find that troubling.’ Belle thought this dried-up old stick of a schoolmistress should concentrate her energies on helping the less able children in the school and be glad she had at least one pupil who liked to learn. ‘I would have thought a teacher would like to see such enthusiasm – it is, after all, a compliment to your teaching.’

  ‘Pride cometh before a fall,’ the schoolmistress retorted with another disapproving sniff. ‘She may be a big fish in this little pool, but how will she manage when she comes up against even bigger fish?’

  ‘A confident child will adjust.’ Belle was growing cross. ‘Now, shall we discuss her progress at school? I assumed that was what you came for?’

  ‘She reads and writes very well,’ Miss Quigley said begrudgingly. ‘She is quick at arithmetic too. But she distracts the other children when she has finished her work and prevents them from finishing theirs.’

  ‘By talking to them?’ Belle felt they were at last getting somewhere.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I’ll tell her that she mustn’t do that. But maybe you could give her more work or another job to keep her occupied?’

  Belle had realized some time ago that Miss Quigley had taken against Mariette. She didn’t think it was because the girl was quicker or smarter than other children of the same age, but purely because neither Mariette nor Belle sucked up to her the way that so many of the other children and mothers in Russell did.

  A plain, thin and reserved woman in her late forties, Miss Quigley had arrived in Russell to teach around the same time that Belle had married Etienne. Rumour had it that she’d chosen to come to Russell to be nearer Silas Waldron, a widower who live in Kerikeri, whom she’d met in Auckland. Perhaps she’d hoped friendship would blossom into love and marriage, but it obviously hadn’t.

  It was never going to be easy for a single woman with no close friends or family in the area to adjust to living in such an isolated community after living in a big city. Miss Quigley had little in common with her pupils’ mothers, whose lives revolved around their husbands and families, and she probably found them rather backward-thinking.

  It didn’t help that she was so starchy and prim – she had no small talk and rarely smiled, let alone laughed – and if she had hoped she might find a husband amongst the wealthy men who came here to fish for marlin in the summer, she was out of luck. Belle doubted any of them would want a plain middle-aged woman who looked like she’d spent her life sucking lemons.

  ‘If you will forgive my plain speaking, Mrs Carrera, I do think you should curb Mariette’s wild spirit by encouraging her to take up more ladylike pursuits than sailing. As I was coming here, I saw her pushing the boat out from the jetty with her dress tucked up in a most ungainly manner.’

  Belle was suddenly all ears and looked at the schoolmistress in alarm. ‘You saw Mari taking the boat out? Wasn’t her father with her?’

  ‘No, she was alone, shouting back to someone on the shore like a fishwife.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that straight away?’ Belle ripped off her apron and made for the door. ‘Do you really think we’d allow an eleven-year-old to sail alone?’

  ‘That’s my point, she’s defiant,’ Miss Quigley replied. But her point was lost because Belle was already out of the door, leaving her alone in the parlour.

  Belle ran at full tilt along the shore towards the jetty, her heart thumping with fear. Etienne had promised to take Mariette out for a sailing lesson in the dinghy after school today, if he finished work early enough. But if Miss Quigley was to be believed, Mariette thought she had learned enough to sail the boat alone.

  It was a beautiful, sunny October day, with just enough wind to make it ideal sailing weather, but Mariette wasn’t strong or knowledgeable enough to control a sailing boat on her own. She had been told this by her father dozens of times. A sudden squall of wind could capsize the boat, and she could be struck on the head by the
boom. Although she could swim well, the water out in the bay was still very cold at this time of year, and in some parts there were dangerous currents.

  Seeing Charley Lomax up ahead, Belle called out to him. ‘Mari’s taken the boat out alone. Can you find Etienne for me?’ she yelled. ‘And if you see Mog, tell her too.’

  Charley Lomax was one of Russell’s characters, about fifty, hard-working when he was sober, but he went on benders that could last for days. He lived in a squalid shack at the back end of town, but Etienne liked him and they often worked on building jobs together.

  The man waved his hand to signal he understood what she’d said and ran off so fast it was clear that he was sober today.

  Belle stopped running for a moment as she had a stitch. Putting her hand up to shield her eyes, she scanned the bay. Their dinghy had a red sail, and when Etienne first bought it Belle had often stood here watching him put it through its paces. She had been worried when he started taking Mariette out with him to teach her, and she still wouldn’t let him take Alexis or Noel as the boys were only eight and seven respectively and not strong swimmers yet. But she had relented with Mariette because the girl loved everything about the sea and boats and liked being alone with her father.

  She spotted the dinghy, which was going at a fair lick, way out in the bay. Mariette was just a tiny dot leaning back from her perch on the side to keep the boat balanced. Belle’s fear was that the girl hadn’t the strength in her arms to bring the boat about, and she was heading straight towards the open sea where the waves would be heavy.

  ‘Belle!’

  Belle turned at the sound of Mog’s shout and saw her racing towards her, clutching Alexis and Noel’s hands. She collected the boys from school most days as they came out half an hour earlier than Mariette, and she usually took them for a walk so they could let off a bit of steam.

  At any other time Belle would have marvelled that a woman of fifty-nine with a slight limp could run so fast. But Belle could only think of the danger her daughter was in.

  ‘Mari’s out there, alone,’ she shouted back to Mog, pointing to the boat in the distance. ‘Do you know where Etienne is?’

  Mog reached her and doubled over with the exertion of running. ‘Charley went to get him. He’s only at the Baxters’ place,’ she wheezed out. ‘He’ll go straight to the jetty and take the other boat to get her. You’d better go with him to help.’

  ‘If she capsizes out there, she’ll drown,’ Belle said in a quavering voice as they continued towards the jetty. ‘I’ve told her a million times how dangerous the sea can be. Why does she always have to challenge everything?’

  ‘Calm down, Belle,’ Mog said. ‘She’s a naughty girl, disobeying you. But if you can still see the boat upright, then there’s no need to panic yet. Etienne will be here before you can say Jack Robinson.’

  Mog was right about that. As they reached the jetty, a cloud of dust heralded Etienne’s arrival in the old truck.

  Although fifty-one now, the years had been kind to him and he was still as lean and strong as he had been on their wedding day. He had more lines around his blue eyes, and his hair was more white than blond, but he still had the power to make women’s hearts flutter a little, especially Belle’s.

  As she expected, he didn’t stop for explanations, recriminations or suggestions, just told Alexis to run home and get a warm blanket, asked Mog to wait with Noel, then grabbed Belle’s hand and charged down the jetty to where their small fishing boat was moored. He leapt in and started the engine while Belle hastily cast off and then jumped into the boat with him. Etienne pushed off from the jetty with a boathook and, within seconds, they were heading towards the dinghy.

  Etienne looked at the little craft in the distance. ‘She’s handling it well,’ he said with a certain amount of pride, but then glanced at Belle’s terror-struck face. ‘We couldn’t have expected to have docile, obedient children, Belle! Mari has inherited the worst and the best of both of us.’

  Belle was tempted to say he should never have bought the dinghy – and she’d never forgive him if Mariette was drowned, or even hurt – but she didn’t, because she knew Etienne would never forgive himself if anything happened. Besides, she had agreed that all children living by the sea should learn to swim and to sail, so she was every bit as responsible.

  Neither of them spoke again, both silently willing the fishing boat to go faster. As they drew closer, they could clearly see that Mariette was struggling against the force of the wind in the sail.

  ‘She’s hanging on to the line for grim death and forgetting to use the rudder to put it about,’ Etienne said. His teeth were gritted with fear for her because, if she continued as she was, the dinghy would be out on the open sea very soon.

  As they chugged towards her, a sudden squall came up and, to their horror, the little dinghy flipped over in an instant and Mariette was thrown out into the sea like a little rag doll. They saw her fall, heard the splash, and yet she disappeared instantly.

  ‘Where’s she gone? I can’t see her!’ Belle gasped.

  The water around Russell had been calm, but out here it was very choppy and the shock of sudden immersion in extremely cold water would make it hard for anyone to swim, especially a small girl.

  ‘Mari!’ Etienne yelled out at the top of his voice. ‘Can you hear me?’

  They had around fifty yards before they reached the capsized boat, and Belle was beside herself with fear as she scanned the water looking for her child. She glanced at Etienne and saw that his jaw was set grimly as he slowed down in readiness to jump into the water.

  ‘Take the wheel and circle the dinghy, slow and wide,’ he said. As she did so, he pulled off his boots. ‘Shout and wave this if you spot her,’ he added, handing her a piece of red cloth.

  He dived into the sea, surfacing some ten yards ahead.

  Belle did as she’d been instructed, slowly circling the capsized boat, calling out to Mariette as she searched the water with her eyes. Etienne kept diving under the water, then resurfaced moments later, only to plunge down again.

  Terror threatened to overwhelm Belle, who was imagining that at any minute Etienne would come to the surface holding the body of their lifeless child. She tried to keep the lid on her panic by reminding herself that they knew Mariette hadn’t been hit by the boom, so she wasn’t unconscious, and that she could swim like a fish. But every second that passed without sight of her daughter meant she might have already drowned.

  ‘Please God, keep her safe,’ she whispered frantically as Etienne once again dived down.

  Then, as if her prayer was answered, she saw her. A small and frightened white face emerged from a wave, and Belle saw that the girl was reaching out for the keel of the upturned dinghy.

  ‘Stay there, Mari,’ Belle yelled out, waving the red rag frantically. ‘Papa’s coming to get you. Hold on tight!’

  Etienne emerged on the other side of the keel.

  ‘This side! She’s on this side of the boat,’ Belle screamed and pointed.

  Etienne raised one hand to let her know he’d heard. As he swam round the capsized boat, Belle steered the fishing boat in closer.

  It took Etienne no more than a couple of minutes to reach Mariette and, holding her up, he swam with her towards Belle and passed her up into Belle’s arms.

  ‘I’ll just go back to the dinghy and get it upright. We can tow it back to Russell,’ he shouted out from the water, then turned and swam back.

  ‘Oh, Mari, you are such a naughty girl,’ Belle exclaimed as she stripped off her child’s soaked dress and wrapped an old coat of Etienne’s around her. ‘I was afraid you’d drowned.’

  ‘Papa told me if I ever capsized, I was to stay with the boat,’ she sobbed out, coughing and bringing up sea water. ‘But I couldn’t see it over the waves, and I was so scared. I was swimming the wrong way. I turned round and then I saw it.’

  Belle hadn’t the heart for lectures now, she was too relieved that Mariette was safe, so she hug
ged her tightly to her chest, watching Etienne righting the dinghy and fixing a tow line to it. There wasn’t much he didn’t know about boats – he’d learned to sail as a small boy in Marseille, and he was always in demand with the boat owners in Russell, both crewing for them and doing repairs – but he didn’t know much about children, and she was angry with him for encouraging an eleven-year-old to think she knew enough to be out on the open sea alone.

  If Miss Quigley hadn’t noticed Mariette pushing the dinghy out, it might have been another hour or more before Belle went looking for her. Once out of the bay, the current would have swept the child away and perhaps her little body would never have been found.

  But she said none of that to Mariette, who had had a big enough fright as it was. For now, all she wanted to do was warm the child up and hold her tightly.

  Etienne was right in saying their daughter had inherited both the best and the worst of her parents. She was as fearless as her father, and as determined as her mother. She was also devious, opinionated and disobedient. Her looks too came from a blend of the pair of them, with her strawberry-blonde hair which was curly, like Belle’s. She had Etienne’s high cheekbones, but Belle’s deep-blue eyes and wide mouth. She wasn’t exactly pretty, but there was something arresting about her features, in the same way as there was with Etienne’s.

  ‘Are you very cross with me?’ Mariette asked in a small, shaky voice once her father was back on board and stripping off his wet clothes.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Etienne replied, looking very fierce. ‘I’ve told you dozens of times that you are never to take the boat out alone. I can’t believe that you would disobey me. You were very lucky that we found out where you were in time and were on our way to you. It isn’t just about being a strong swimmer, the sea is very cold and even a grown man like me can become paralysed in the water in no time at all. Do you know what it would have done to your whole family, if you had drowned?’

  ‘You’d all be very sad,’ she said, hanging her head and trying to retreat further into the old coat Belle had wrapped her in.

  ‘Not just sad, broken-hearted,’ he said as he squatted down in front of her. ‘You are just a little girl, you might have learned to sail quite well in calm water with a gentle wind, but you haven’t got enough muscle yet to control a boat in a strong wind. You must learn to obey me and your mother, Mariette. We don’t stop you from doing things just to be mean to you, but to keep you safe.’