by Jude Knight
“I did all the paperwork,” Jack argued, “and me and my girlfriend are in a bit of a rush. We want to get out through the heads before dark.”
Watson spread his hands. “In this weather? You’d do better to wait for morning, Mr Quinton.”
Claudia controlled her wince and for a second thought Jack hadn’t noticed Watson’s slip, but two words into his reply, he grabbed Claudia by the shoulder and spun her to face him. “You told them. You told the police.”
In one quick movement, he threw his bag onto the boat. As Watson dithered, shifting from one foot to another and biting his lip, Jack tugged Claudia around again, holding her against him with an arm across her chest. She felt something cold touch her throat, and then a sting as it cut before he withdrew it from direct contact with her skin.
“No, man,” Watson protested.
Jack waved his knife, so close that the weapon was a blur in her peripheral vision. “Get the boat started.”
“Now, mister, you don’t want to do that.” Watson was backing away, his hands spread in surrender.
Jack returned the knife to her throat and she felt the sting of another shallow cut. “Get the boat started,” he repeated.
At her yelp, Watson jumped, and then scurried aboard. Jack propelled Claudia ahead of him as he followed, taking station in the corner of the cockpit where he could watch Watson start the engine.
“Now head her out, nice and steady,” he instructed. “If you’re lucky, I might let you off at the heads. If you cause trouble, I’ll just drop you over the side and let you swim.”
Watson slid his eyes sideways, but said nothing.
The police launch was waiting just outside the marina entrance. “Let her go, Mr Quinton,” shouted Marcus from among the knot of men in the bow cockpit.
Except for a glance, Jack ignored him.
Claudia found her courage in thoughts of her child. “At least tell them where to find Abbie, Jack. I beg you.” She braced for another cut but instead shrieked at the sharp pain when he gave her hair a vicious tug.
“I’m not telling. You broke your promise. You broke your promise.” His own voice had risen to a shriek, and he almost lost hold of her, before his eyes widened with alarm. The police launch was drawing closer. Jack pulled her back into his cruel embrace and the knife pricked her throat again. “Get back! I’ll kill her rather than let any of you have her.”
13
With his precious cargo aboard, Ethan took the downward slope at just enough speed to maintain control, stopping a cautious distance from the edge to wave to Rhys, just visible through the rain.
Rhys gave him a thumbs up, and Abbie said something. Ethan bent his head, curling his back to bring his ear closer. “What was that, sweetie?”
“Gan we jump? I want my mummy.”
“No, Abbie. I’m sorry, but we can’t jump.” He explained that he’d been jumping downhill, and even alone, he couldn’t make it uphill, especially since the rain had intensified. She turned to examine his face as he spoke, and she didn’t argue. On the other side of the gully, Rhys had remounted his bike and started it. He waved and left, disappearing around the side of the hill. Ethan hoped he’d take care. And hurry. The sooner the word got to the police and Claudia that Abbie was safe, the sooner they could arrest Jack.
“Let’s go back to the hut and get a fire going.” Ethan took it slowly, but in minutes they were back in the relative comfort of the small structure. The stove was empty—no fire; not even any kindling—but the wood pile yielded dry logs, and some of them had dead moss on them which would make good tinder. Abbie helped, trotting in with a load of wood and out to fetch another, and soon they had a fire laid and more logs ready to put on once it was lit.
Next, a search for matches, which Ethan found on a nook in the stone wall of the chimney. Only five in the box. Let’s see whether enough remained from his half-remembered scouting days—abandoned when he took up cycling—to get the damned thing lit.
He burned through three matches before the tinder caught, but after that the tepee of kindling was soon ablaze. The smaller logs that he’d propped close enough to heat caught fire. As the tepee collapsed, he used the poker to nudge the side logs closer together.
“That should be okay now.” He hoped. If they were here overnight, he’d have to keep waking to feed the fire, but that was okay. He could keep Abbie warm, which was what counted.
“Now, sweetheart, let’s see what we’ve got to eat,” he said. “Did Quinton leave you with any food?”
“Tha’ bassard Jag jus’ lef’ graggers.” Abbie said the mild swear word with great relish. Ethan would be explaining himself to Claudia when they got out of here, but he wasn’t about to correct her now. Especially once he’d looked in the plastic bag Abbie showed him. That bastard Jack had left the child locked in a cold hut with a sleeping bag and six packets of supermarket brand water-crackers. Nothing to put on them. Nothing to drink but water from the tap. And no fire.
The shelves above the primitive sink yielded some cans of stew, to which Abbie wrinkled her nose, a plastic jar of dried rice, some dehydrated meals well past their use-by date, and — he was pleased to see — a jar of instant coffee and another of tea bags.
Ethan’s Boy Scout skills might be close to zero, but he could rustle up a meal out of these unpromising ingredients. Yes, and follow up with one of the tins of peaches at the back of the shelf. Abbie watched with great interest as he rinsed out a saucepan from the selection under the sink, half filled it with water, and put it on the stovetop to boil.
“Wha’ you doing, Mr Ethan?”
“I’m going to boil some rice. Once the water’s boiling, I’ll put the rice in.” He crouched down before the sink bench, searching along the shelf for a can opener, finding three in the tray full of ill-assorted cutlery and utensils. When he applied them one after the other to the can, none of them worked.
He checked the pot. The water was warm, but not yet hot.
“Are we jus’ having rice?” Abbie asked. Although she’d screwed her nose up at the canned stew, she was even less impressed at the thought of plain rice. Ethan grinned at her, and pulled his Swiss Army knife from his pocket. “I have a trick or two yet, Princess Abigail.”
Ethan worked the bottle opener device up and down in a seesaw motion, working his way around the lid of the can until it dropped loose into the stew.
“Mummy calls me Brincess Abigail,” Abbie observed. “How’ju know my mummy, Mr Ethan?”
Ethan needed time to think about his answer. What would Claudia want him to say? “I’ll just check the water.” It was boiling, so he poured a cup of rice into it, then set another pot on the stove to put the can into. He turned away to fetch the can and met Abbie’s eyes. He’d thought she looked just like a miniature and female version of him, but all of a sudden, he saw her mother in her. Abbie had just the same air of patient watchfulness on the point of exploding into questions.
“I met your mother a long time ago,” he admitted. And soon he was telling her about their first meeting, and then added more. Not that they were a couple, but just stories about her performances and how good she was; about seeing her in the crowd when he raced; about places they’d seen together and things they’d done.
His stories took them through the wait for the rice to cook and the stew to warm, and then entertained Abbie as she made her way through the despised stew with every evidence of enjoyment. By now, it was full dark and wetter than ever, but inside the cabin they were warm and dry, and Ethan left the stove door open so they could eat and get ready for bed by the flickering light of the fire.
After he’d helped Abbie wash her face and assured her that God wouldn’t mind if she said her prayers from inside the sleeping bag, he lifted her, sleeping bag and all up onto the top bunk where she had asked to sleep.
“Mr Ethan? Dell me again about going in the Big Wheel?”
He gave the hand she’d slipped confidingly into his a gentle squeeze. Just as well the pla
ce had no mirrors. He didn’t have to look at his own besotted smile. “One more story, and then you must sleep, precious girl. Tomorrow, we have to be ready for them to rescue us.”
“You resgued,” Abbie insisted. “Sdory, please.”
So, he repeated the tale. How they had found themselves in a town that boasted a magnificent fun fair. How they had evaded the plans of their respective teams, and spent the day wandering the fair, sampling all the delights, including the big wheel. This time, he added the most precious memories of all, winning the hammer of strength contest, and presenting her with a teddy bear. She then bested him at target shooting, choosing as her prize a gift for him: a key tab in the shape of a lucky black enamel cat with green eyes.
He fetched it from his pocket to show her. “I have two black cats now,” he said, wriggling the tab off the key ring and offering it to her. “Back in Fairburn, my cat Boss is waiting for me. I hope someone remembers to feed her.”
Abbie folded her hand around the tab, tucking it under her chin. “Dell about’ Boss,” she inveigled.
He shook his head. She was fighting to keep her eyes open. “Sleep time, princess.”
She shut her eyes obediently then opened them again. “Am I your brincess?” she wanted to know.
“You sure are, Abbie,” he assured her, and she nodded thoughtfully.
He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then climbed down the ladder. “Time for me to go to sleep, too.” He was speaking mostly to himself, but Abbie responded, wriggling closer to the side of the bed so he could see her eyes shining at him from the shadowed alcove.
“Mummy has tha’ bear, and dold me tha’ sdory.”
Ethan felt a smile welling from the depths of his heart. Claudia had kept his bear; had carried it across half a world and through several moves, and told their daughter where it had come from. “Go to sleep, little darling,” he told her, resisting the urge to repeat the goodnight peck on the cheek.
She yawned hugely, smiled, and snuggled down until only the top of her head was visible, and if he had to guess, he’d bet she was asleep before he’d finished making the bottom bunk as comfortable as he could with pillows from the other bunks and no blankets.
The police boat escorted them towards the harbour entrance, staying fifty yards off their port side. Jack had barely moved since they’d left the dock, except to move the knife far enough from Claudia’s throat that he didn’t slit it by mistake. He might still slit it on purpose. The threat kept the police at bay and the harbour master at the wheel, heading them towards the open sea.
Claudia kept still, her face turned to the gap in the hills that marked the entrance to the bay, darkening now as the sun set behind her. Without moving her head, she could look sideways when the police boat surged ahead and see Trent watching from the knot of police officers in the cockpit, so she saw when he lifted the phone he held to his ear, spoke briefly, then gave her a huge grin and a thumbs up. She risked turning her head to mouth, “Abbie?” His vigorous nod caught Jack’s attention, but it was too late. Claudia had already dropped, lifting both feet so that her full weight pulled through his loose grip before he could tighten it. He dived to grab her again, but as soon as she felt his arms brush past her head, she’d kicked off into a forward roll, turning it into a cartwheel across the deck, landing on the bench that lined the side and diving over the gunwale into the sea. She struck out towards the police boat, not waiting to see whether it was heading towards her, but it must have turned immediately, because she’d swum no more than a score of strokes before the steep side of the boat loomed beside her.
From the top of the ladder, she looked over to Jack’s boat. Her nemesis lay over the gunwale, the harbour master standing over him with a boat hook.
Trent was there to help her into the launch, with the words she’d longed to hear. “Ethan has her. She’s safe.”
The storm blew out in the night. Should they risk taking the long route out? Or should they wait where they were? In the end, Ethan decided to postpone the decision until Abbie had woken and had breakfast—crackers soaked in the juice of tinned peaches, with the peaches on top. They ate sitting on the veranda, Ethan’s legs on the ground and Abbie’s dangling.
“Listen.” Ethan tipped his head on one side, and Abbie copied him, staring intently in the direction of the whap whap whap sound, steadily increasing, of an approaching helicopter. “I see id!” Abbie bounced in excitement and Ethan steadied her bowl before the sweet mess slid out into her lap. Sure enough, the helicopter rose over the trees, which bowed and waved in its wind. Soon, they could see faces within and in moments it was landing before the hut.
Before the rotors had stopped, Claudia was clambering from the machine, and Ethan caught Abbie’s bowl as she thrust it sideways and tumbled off the veranda to run to her mother. Ethan had no attention to spare for the others climbing from the helicopter. He’d never seen anything lovelier than the reunion between mother and daughter, until Claudia looked at him over Abbie’s head, and Abbie turned her head and disentangled an arm from around her mother’s neck to hold out to him. When Claudia nodded and stood, lifting Abbie in her arms, he dared to approach.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Thanks to you,” she said, putting her free arm around him as he put his about them both. His women. Or, rather, he was their man: to serve, to protect, to adore as much as they would allow.
Claudia hugged him, “You saved her, Ethan.”
“Proud to do it,” he said.
“Of gourse,” Abbie pronounced, matter-of-factly. “He’s my daddy. I’ll ged my jacked.” She wriggled, so that Claudia had to put her down and ran off into the hut.
“You told her?” Claudia took two steps back, glaring.
One of the people from the helicopter interrupted. “Claudia? Sir? Shall we get on our way?” Claudia made to pass Ethan, and he said, hastily, “It isn’t what you think. Give me a chance to explain?”
Abbie emerged from the hut, tugging on her jacket, and Claudia crouched to do up the buttons, then paused. One finger traced the black enamel cat he’d pinned to Abbie’s collar, and she looked up at him with a smile.
“You kept it.”
It was going to be alright. Ethan let out the breath he had been holding. “And you kept the bear, and told Abbie that her daddy had won it for you. I swear I wasn’t going to say anything, Claudia. But she wanted to know how I knew her mummy, and once I started telling her about stuff we did together... The day we went to the fair was a very special day for me.”
“Me, too.” Claudia straightened and took one of Abbie’s hands and Abbie offered the other to Ethan. Together, they lifted her into the helicopter then followed and they were soon airborne. It was too noisy to talk. Too public, too, with the pilot and two other Search and Rescue guys.
But when the helicopter landed on the sports field across the road from Abbie’s house and they were walking towards her friends, Abbie running ahead with an ungainly wobble, Ethan dared to ask the question he’d been holding back. “Look, I’m not going to presume. You told me I don’t have any rights and I know that. But Claudia, may I stay in Fairburn? Get to know you again? Get to know Abbie?”
The little minx heard and turned. “Of gourse,” she said. “I wished for my daddy on the wishing dree. Of gourse you sday.”
Claudia and Ethan stopped short, watching the child run to greet Polly.
“So, there you have it.” Claudia raised an eyebrow, a small smile curving her lips. “Of course, you must stay.”
“Only if you are okay with it.” It would break Ethan’s heart to leave, but Abbie had only known him for a few hours. She’d forget him quickly enough.
Claudia’s smile warmed his heart. “I’m okay with it. More than okay. I’d like you to stay.”
Epilogue
Claudia followed Ethan from Abbie’s room, closing the door behind her and looking around her small living room with a happy sigh. It looked beautiful, all decorated for Christmas. The Jess
e Tree still took pride of place, complete now, the last story told and the last ornament — showing a mother and baby — fastened to the topmost branch.
Ethan had a hand in almost all the rest, turning up every day for the past fortnight with another item to add to the festive display. The tree in the corner and most of its decorations. The LED lights that festooned the curtain rails and turned the room into a fairy grotto if they stayed up late enough for night to fall. A nativity scene that he and Abbie had set up under the tree, all complete but for the empty crib. The baby was still in its box, waiting for morning.
The tree also featured more presents than the few she’d been able to provide for Abbie. Ethan again, spoiling them both. “Making up for lost time,” he called it. He assured her he wasn’t overspending and called up his bank accounts on his phone app to prove it, but still she put her foot down. “Honestly, Ethan, you cannot buy her everything she wants. It isn’t good for her.” So the pile beneath the tree wasn’t as big as he’d have liked to make it, but still included the riding helmet he had consulted her on, a new dress from the swankiest children’s shop in Barnsley, a Wonder Woman action doll he’d described but not shown her (which meant it would be the deluxe version with all the accessories), and more art supplies than even Abbie would use in the next six months.
Three of the presents were for her from Abbie. One, she knew, had been made at school. Ethan had been instrumental in organizing (and paying for) the other two, having ‘borrowed’ Abbie for an afternoon of shopping in Barnsley while she spent the time making the Christmas treats her grandmother had taught her.
“Would you like a glass of wine and some Christmas cake?” She was already in the small kitchenette, fetching the cake from the pantry cupboard.
“I’ll pour the wine,” Ethan offered. In the past weeks, he’d become familiar with where she kept things, and by the time she’d cut two slices of rich fruit cake and added a couple of pieces of shortbread to the plate, he had the two glasses ready, full of a dark red local wine that he said had been recommended by one of the garage’s customers.