The Storm Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  Despite my anger, my heart melted. ‘Never,’ I said, taking the torch from his hand and shining it into his face, imprinting his features onto my memory. ‘Keep safe, my darling,’ I whispered, as Theo reluctantly let me go in preparation to release the painter, and I climbed down the steps and jumped into the waiting craft.

  That night, exhausted as I was from the most arduous day’s sailing I’d ever endured, I couldn’t sleep. On top of which, having searched through my rucksack, I realised that in my hurry to leave the boat, I’d left my mobile on-board. Now I could have no direct contact with Theo and I kicked myself for my stupidity. As I paced around my room, I veered between indignation at being unceremoniously dumped ashore, and raw fear as I peered out at the rolling clouds and torrential rain in the harbour below me, and heard the continual clang of wind-blown rigging. I knew how much this race meant to Theo, but I worried that his wish to win could cloud his professional judgement. And suddenly I saw the sea for what it was: a roaring, uncontrollable beast that could reduce human beings to flotsam with its magnificent strength.

  As a murky dawn began to emerge, I spotted the Tigress on the move once more, heading out of Weymouth harbour and into the open sea.

  My fingers clasped my engagement necklace tightly, and I knew there was no more I could do. ‘Goodbye, my love,’ I whispered and watched the Tigress until it was a tiny dot tossed on the cruel waves of the open sea.

  I spent the next few hours feeling completely cut off. Eventually, I realised it was pointless staying alone and miserable in Weymouth, so I packed my rucksack and set off by train and ferry back to Cowes. At least I would be near the Fastnet Control Centre and I could find out first-hand how things were going, rather than having to rely on the internet. All the boats had GPS trackers aboard, but I knew they were notoriously unreliable in rough weather.

  Three and a half hours later, I checked into the same hotel Theo and I had stayed at during the practice and walked along to the Royal Yacht Squadron to see what I could find out. My heart sank as I recognised a number of crews who had begun the race with us gathered miserably in huddles around the tables.

  Spotting Pascal Lemaire, a Frenchman I’d crewed with a few years ago, I went over to speak to him.

  ‘Hi, Al,’ he said in surprise. ‘I didn’t know the Tigress had retired.’

  ‘She hasn’t, or at least as far as I know. My skipper ordered me ashore yesterday. He thought it was too dangerous.’

  ‘He’s right, it is. Dozens of boats are either officially out of the race, or are waiting in port until the weather calms down. Our skipper made the decision to withdraw. It was hell out there for the smaller boats like ours. I’ve rarely seen weather like it. Your guys should be okay on a hundred-footer, though. That boat your boyfriend is sailing is as good as it gets,’ he reassured me as he saw the anguished look in my eyes. ‘Want a drink? There’s a lot of us in here drowning our sorrows tonight.’

  I accepted the offer, and joined the group as they inevitably began comparing the weather to that during the 1979 Fastnet Race, when one hundred and twelve boats had been knocked down by the waves and eighteen people, including three rescuers, had lost their lives. But after half an hour, distracted and nervous about the Tigress and Theo, I made my excuses and donned my fleece before walking down the rain-swept road to the Fastnet Control Centre, based at the Royal Ocean Racing Club a short distance away. I immediately asked if there was any information on the Tigress.

  ‘Yes, she’s a few miles past Bishop Rock at the moment and making good progress,’ the operator said as he checked his screen. ‘She’s currently lying fourth. Mind you, at this rate, with the number of retirements being announced, she might win it by default,’ he added with a sigh.

  Comforted at least that as far as anyone could tell, all was well and Theo was safe, I walked back to the Royal Yacht Squadron and grabbed a sandwich as I watched more exhausted, bedraggled crews arrive. The wind had gathered pace again, I heard them saying, but I was too distracted to be able to engage in their conversations, so I wended my way back to the hotel and eventually managed to snatch a fitful couple of hours’ sleep. In the end, I gave up and at five the next morning, as a grey dawn struggled to break, I was back at the Control Centre. As I walked in, a hush fell over the room.

  ‘Any news?’

  I watched the operators exchange anxious glances.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, my heart suddenly in my mouth. ‘Is the Tigress all right?’

  Again, the exchange of glances.

  ‘We received a distress call at about three thirty this morning. Man overboard, apparently. A coastguard search and rescue helicopter was scrambled. We’re still waiting for news.’

  ‘Do they know who? What happened?’

  ‘Sorry, love, we don’t have any details at the moment. Why don’t you go and get yourself a cup of tea and we’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.’

  I nodded, trying to control the hysteria that was building inside me. The Tigress was a state-of-the-art craft, with a superb communications system. I knew they were lying to me about not knowing the details. And if they were, it could only mean one thing.

  My heart was beating so fast, I thought I might pass out, and I headed for the sanctuary of the ladies, collapsing onto the toilet seat and gulping in breaths as panic overwhelmed me. Maybe I was wrong, maybe they simply couldn’t divulge the details until they’d clarified exactly what had happened. But in the depths of my soul, I already knew.

  11

  A helicopter brought Theo’s body back to the mainland. Kindly, the race director offered me a car to take me across to Southampton on the ferry later and then, if I wanted, to the hospital where his body would lie in the morgue.

  ‘You and Theo’s mother are down on his entry form as his next of kin. I’m sorry to say it, but one of you will probably have to . . . well . . . fill in the appropriate paperwork. Should I contact Mrs Falys-Kings or will you?’

  ‘I . . . don’t know,’ I replied numbly.

  ‘Perhaps I should do it. I’m very concerned that she might hear it on the radio or television. Sadly, this is going to be big news all over the world. I’m so very sorry, Ally. I won’t give you the usual platitudes about Theo doing something he loved. I am simply devastated for you, for his crew and for sailing.’

  I didn’t reply. There were no words.

  ‘Right then,’ he said, obviously not knowing what else to do with me as I sat there catatonic in his office. ‘Would you like me to take you back to your hotel so perhaps you can get some rest?’

  I shrugged hopelessly, realising he meant well, but doubting I’d ever be able to ‘rest’ again. ‘It’s fine, thanks, I’ll walk.’

  ‘Anything I can do, Ally, please get in touch. You have my mobile number, so let me know if you want that car. The rest of the crew are currently sailing the Tigress back to Cowes. I’m sure they’ll want to speak to you at some point, tell you exactly what happened, if you’re up to it. And in the meantime, I’ll make the phone call to Theo’s mother.’

  I trudged mindlessly back towards my hotel along the harbour front, stopping for a moment to stare out over the cruel grey sea. And as I stood there, I screamed obscenities at it, howling like a banshee, demanding to know why it had taken my father and now Theo away from me.

  And at that moment, I swore to myself that I would never set foot on a boat again.

  The next few hours were a void. I sat in my room, unable to think or feel or process anything.

  All I knew was that now, there was nothing left.

  Nothing.

  The telephone rang by my bed and I stood up robotically to answer it. Reception told me there were some friends of mine waiting to see me downstairs. ‘A Mr Rob Bellamy and three others,’ the woman confirmed.

  Through my numbness, I knew that, however painful it would be to face the crew, I had to go and hear how Theo had died. I told the receptionist to tell them I’d meet them in the hotel lounge.


  When I entered the room, Rob, Chris, Mick and Guy were waiting for me. They too were in shock, could hardly look at me as they mumbled their condolences.

  ‘We did everything we could . . .’

  ‘So brave to dive in after Rob . . .’

  ‘Nobody’s fault, a tragic accident . . .’

  I nodded and managed brief replies to their sympathetic words, giving my best impression of a functional human being. Finally, Mick, Chris and Guy got up to leave. But Rob said he’d stay.

  ‘Thanks, boys,’ I said, giving them a pathetic wave as they left.

  ‘Al, if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.’ Rob signalled to the waitress lolling by her service station in the corner. ‘And before I tell you exactly what happened, so do you.’

  Eventually, armed with a brandy each, Rob took a deep breath and I saw there were tears in his eyes.

  ‘Please, Rob, just tell me,’ I urged him.

  ‘Okay. We were hove to, not underway, because the weather was so dire. I was up there on the foredeck doing my watch shift when Theo came to relieve me. Just as I’d unfastened my harness from the jackstay, a huge wave hit me and I was hurled off the boat and into the sea. Apparently I was knocked out, so I would have drowned for sure, but Theo raised the alarm, threw in the danbuoy and then leapt over the side himself. I was still out cold, but the rest of the boys were all on deck by this time and they told me that Theo somehow managed to swim to me, tow me to the danbuoy and prop me up inside it, but then another huge wave dragged him away from me and under the water. They completely lost sight of him after that, it was so dark and so rough, and you know as well as I do it’s impossible to spot someone in the water in those conditions. If only he’d managed to stay clinging onto the buoy’ – Rob stifled a sob – ‘then he might have made it. The crew radioed for a rescue helicopter and they found me and winched me aboard, thanks to the light attached to the danbuoy. But Theo . . . well, they eventually located his . . . his . . . body an hour later by tracking the signal from his EPIRB. Christ, Al, I’m so bloody sorry. I can never forgive myself for this.’

  For the first time since I’d heard, I felt some kind of real emotion flooding back into my veins. I put my hand on his. ‘Rob, we all know the perils of sailing, and Theo knew them better than anyone else.’

  ‘I know all that, Al, but if I hadn’t unclipped my harness at that moment . . . shit!’ he said as he put a hand to his brow to cover his eyes. ‘You two were meant to be together . . . and it’s my fault that now you won’t be. You must hate me!’

  Rob sobbed uncontrollably then and all I could do was pat his shoulder mechanically. The worst thing was, part of me did hate him, because he’d survived and Theo hadn’t.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. He did what any captain would have done, Rob. And I wouldn’t have expected any less of him. Some things just . . .’ I bit my lip to stop my own tears as I ran out of placations.

  ‘Forgive me, Ally, it shouldn’t be me sitting here blubbing.’ Rob guiltily wiped his eyes. ‘I just needed to confess how I felt.’

  ‘Thank you. And I really appreciate you telling me the whole story. It can’t have been easy for you, either.’

  We sat in silence for a while before Rob made to stand up. ‘Anything I can do, please call. And talking of which’ – Rob dug into his jeans pocket – ‘I found this in the galley. Is it yours?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ I took my mobile from him.

  ‘Theo saved my life,’ he whispered. ‘He’s a bloody hero. I’m . . . sorry.’

  I watched a despairing Rob leave the lounge, and sat there thinking that now I’d seen the crew, there was nothing to keep me here. I was sure too that Celia would want to identify her son’s body. As I stood up, desperate to leave this place that had formed the backdrop to my personal annihilation, I wondered where I should go. Home to Geneva, I supposed. But there too, I realised, a gaping hole of loss awaited me.

  There was no sanctuary.

  Entering my room, I began to pack mindlessly.

  This time, I left my mobile off for the polar opposite reason to when I’d been on the boat with Theo. I was too devastated to speak to my family and tell them. Besides, none of my sisters knew about our relationship. I’d blithely assumed there would be plenty of time for them to meet Theo in the future. And given that he and I had known each other for such a short time, how could I explain to them what he’d meant to me? That even though we’d only been physically united for a few short weeks, I felt as though our souls had been together for a lifetime?

  When Pa Salt had died, I supposed that at least it had been the natural order in the circle of life. And I’d had Theo there to comfort me, to offer me the hope of a new beginning. As I thought this, it dawned on me how much I’d relied on him to fill the yawning space that Pa had left behind. But now, he’d gone too. As had any dreams for the future. In a few bleak hours, not only Theo but my lifelong passion for sailing had been brutally snatched away from me.

  Just as I was about to leave the room with my rucksack, the telephone on the bedside table rang.

  ‘Hello?’ I answered cautiously.

  ‘Ally, it’s Celia. The race director said you were staying at the New Holmwood Hotel.’

  ‘I . . . hello.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

  ‘Terrible,’ I muttered, not having the strength to put on a brave face any longer. But understanding that at least with her, there was no need to. ‘You?’

  ‘The same. I’ve just come back from the hospital.’

  There was silence from both of us, as we each digested the dreadful finality that her words represented. I could almost feel Celia fighting back the tears before speaking.

  ‘I was wondering, Ally, where are you going now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I . . . don’t know.’

  ‘Then how about you come over on the ferry to Southampton? We can travel up to London together and you could come and stay with me for a few days. The rabid media attention this whole thing is starting to receive is a nightmare. We could put up the barricades and lie low at my house for a while. What do you think?’

  ‘I think’ – I gulped as tears spilled over my eyelids in grateful relief – ‘that I’d love to.’

  ‘You have my number, so let me know what time you’ll be at Southampton railway station and I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘I will, Celia. And thank you.’

  I have often thought since that if it hadn’t been for Celia calling me at that darkest moment, I may well have thrown myself into the churning sea after Theo as the ferry had taken me across to Southampton.

  When we met at the station, and I saw her sheet-white face, half hidden behind a pair of enormous black sunglasses, I ran into her open arms, exactly as I would have into Ma’s. We stood there together for a long time, two relative strangers, yet bonded completely by our pain, each of us with the only other person we knew who could understand.

  When we arrived at Waterloo, we took a cab to the pretty white house in Chelsea and Celia made us an omelette, both of us realising that we hadn’t eaten a thing since the news. She also poured us each a large glass of wine and we sat out on the terrace in the warm, calm August evening.

  ‘Ally, I need to tell you something. You may consider it absurd, but the thing is’ – a huge shudder racked Celia’s delicate frame – ‘when you two were last here, I knew. When I kissed him goodbye, I felt it was forever.’

  ‘Yes, Theo sensed your fear, Celia. He wasn’t himself on the train back to Southampton after we’d seen you.’

  ‘Was it my foresight he was feeling, or his own? Do you remember, he went to use the bathroom and said he would meet us in the hall just before you left? Well, after I’d shut the front door behind you both, I walked back towards the kitchen and found this propped up on the hall table, addressed to me.’

  She pushed forward a large envelope and I saw the word ‘Mum’ written in Theo’s stylish looping hand on the front.

 
‘I opened it,’ Celia continued, ‘and found a brand-new copy of his will inside, plus a letter to me. And also one to you, Ally.’

  ‘I . . .’ My hand went to my mouth. ‘Oh God.’

  ‘I’ve read mine, but yours is here, still unopened of course. Perhaps you can’t bear to read it just yet, but I must give it to you, just as he asked me to do in my letter.’

  She drew a smaller envelope from the larger one and handed it to me. I grasped it with shaking hands. ‘But Celia, if he had a premonition, then why didn’t he abort the race like so many other skippers did?’

  ‘I think we both know why, Ally. As a sailor yourself, you realise that every time you board a boat at the start of a race, you’re facing danger. As Theo said that day to both of us, he could easily have been run over by a bus,’ she said, giving a sad shrug. ‘Perhaps he simply felt it was his destiny to—’

  ‘Die at the age of thirty-five?! Surely not? If he felt that, then how could he have loved me? He asked me to marry him! We had our entire lives in front of us. No.’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘I can’t accept that.’

  ‘Of course you can’t, and you must forgive me for mentioning it, but I find it comforting in an odd way. Death is so confusing. None of us ever truly accepts the mortality of those we love. And yet, other than birth, it is the one definite thing that will happen to each and every one of us.’

  I looked down at the unopened letter sitting in my hands. ‘Maybe you’re right, Celia,’ I sighed in resignation. ‘Yet why would he have left a new will or a note to both of us if he hadn’t had some kind of premonition?’

  ‘To be fair, you know Theo: always organised and efficient, even in death.’

  This made us both smile, despite ourselves.

  ‘Yes. Just like my father. Well, I suppose I should read his letter.’

  ‘In your own time. And now, if you’ll excuse me, Ally dear, I’m going to go up and have a long soak in the tub.’