Winter Storms

by Oliver, Lucy

  “Where do you want to stop?” Russell said, slowing the engine.

  “Here’s fine, we have to watch the last marker and be on hand in case anyone needs rescuing.”

  Russell put the cruiser into reverse and dropped the anchor. In silence, they bobbed, watching the swoop of sails racing toward them, tiny figures in bright orange life jackets. Daniel narrowed his eyes, standing to gaze at a small craft, which leant too far to the right. “Trim it,” he muttered.

  “It’s going over,” Russell said, jumping up.

  The boat wobbled and a scream echoed across the water as it flipped into the sea. Daniel reached for a rope, but almost immediately, a support vessel hooted and headed toward the capsized boat. It was nearer than him, so he watched, looping the rope around his hand and elbow as the child, instead of panicking, tried to straighten his craft. That was a lad who would do well; he’d lose this race, but probably not the next.

  “They’ve got him,” Russell said.

  “They ought to help him right the craft and let him carry on.”

  “His parents might feel differently, it’s December.”

  “Not if they’re sailors they won’t.” He leant on the rail, watching the crew lift the child into the boat, who, from the grin on his face, didn’t seem too perturbed at losing the race. Anyone could win, after all, it took real skill to get rescued by the lifeboat.

  “Which marker do we need to watch them around?” Russell said.

  Daniel nodded to a large orange buoy bobbing in the centre of the harbour. “We must keep an eye out for other boats too, we’ve put out notices that the harbour will be closed for the afternoon, but there’s a chance someone might not have heard, we don’t want a speedboat racing in during the kids’ sailing.”

  “Nothing yet, just a few seagulls.” Russell shielded his eyes to peer across the water. “It’s great to have you back, how long are you staying for?”

  “I’m not sure yet, depends on circumstances.”

  “Between you and Carly?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “The fact you vanished home with her at the sailing club party was a large hint.” Russell grinned. “Poor Ali, left standing alone by the sausage rolls with no way of getting home.”

  “It’s going to take a really big Christmas present before she’ll forgive me.”

  Staring across the harbour, he kept his gaze on the small sails making their way toward him — no more accidents on his watch. Spray, laced with salt, landed on his lips and he moistened them, his nose numbing as he breathed in the freezing winter air. Small yellow lights were switching on along the harbour, snow blurring them to a soft glow in front of the brown skeletons of trees. Even winter couldn’t dim the beauty of Haven Bay.

  The dinghies swept around the marker, a couple touching it, which he pretended not to see, and one going around it the wrong way, which he couldn’t ignore. Marking the boat’s number, he made a mental note to have a brief word with the small sailor, who needed to be aware of the risk of collisions.

  “I think it’s going to be number three,” Russell said, squinting as the miniature fleet headed back to the finishing line.

  Daniel shook his head. “Wrong position, she’ll lose her wind in a few minutes. It’s going to be boat eight, which one of my small cousins is sailing; hopefully there won’t be any moaning about favouritism.”

  “They’ll just think it’s good genes.” Russell stretched and yawned. “Time to head back, I think, it’s getting dark.”

  Daniel sat back in his seat, wiping snow from his face. They’d been right to bring forward the gala, the weather was getting worse. People were already on their way home, patches of brown cobblestone gleamed on the harbour, which had been packed with sightseers when he set off. Hopefully they had made enough money, else the rest of the town would never let Carly forget it.

  • • •

  Daniel pushed open the shop door and a blast of warm air hit his face, the snowfall that ended the gala yesterday had eased off, but it was still bitterly cold. He yanked off his sailing gloves, put down his hood and breathed in the scent of cinnamon. Carly’s place was tidy, the shelves filled with attractive merchandise. He hadn’t found her after the fête, although Mick looked shifty when he questioned him: it had been clear that she didn’t want to be found.

  “With you in a sec!” Carly said.

  He spotted her behind the cash till, leaning over a large box. He admired her bottom, encased in dark blue trousers, and waited for her to turn around. When she did, her mouth dropped open.

  “Daniel, what a surprise. Thanks for helping with the gala. Sorry I had to go, I needed to take the funds raised to the bank.”

  “That’s all right, I think most people had gone by then anyway. How much did you make?”

  “Including a mysterious cheque for ten thousand pounds that arrived this morning, we made twenty-three thousand. Only just short of our target.”

  “That’s brilliant, well done.”

  “It isn’t though, is it? Without that cheque, it would have been a disaster, just thirteen thousand. I might as well have saved myself all the trouble and held a Christmas car boot sale in the sailing club car park like Duncan originally wanted.”

  “I doubt you’d have got such a large donation for setting up a few tables and chairs. It took hard work to arrange what you did, and everyone loved it. They were talking in the pub last night about doing a Winter Gala every year. The kids had a great time, and don’t forget it’ll be on the local news so you might get some more money arriving in the post. Most of Cornwall knows about the need for the new lifeboat now.”

  She smiled. “The cameras came because of you and Imogen, they wouldn’t have been here for any other reason.”

  “That’s how it works and if it brings in money, what does it matter? Charities have always had figureheads.”

  “I suppose so; I feel bad it cost you so much though.”

  Daniel caught his breath, tempted to tell her how much he earned in the last year from sponsorship deals and after dinner speaking. But it would sound like he was boasting.

  “I would have paid it anyway,” he said. “I decided to donate after we visited the lifeboat station. They saved your life, Carly, and mine, because if you’d died due to my mistake, I couldn’t have lived with myself.”

  She motioned her lips and looked down at the Christmas boxes by her feet. “Thank you anyway, we appreciated the donation. Now, what are you doing here? Can I get you anything?”

  “My mother told me this was the best place to come for Christmas presents.”

  The corners of her lips tilted up. Clearly, she was not immune to compliments, not even when they came from him.

  “I’m no good at choosing gifts though,” he said. “Could you help?”

  “If you’re not in a hurry, as I have to finish the last of the Christmas hamper orders. Have a look around while you’re waiting.”

  Daniel peered into one of the boxes, it was full of cheese portions wrapped in greaseproof paper and jars of dark brown chutney.

  “Do you deliver those yourself?” he said.

  “I have a driver.” Her green eyes narrowed. “I’ve been running this place for quite a while now.”

  Now he had annoyed her, sounded patronising; of course she could manage, but he hated to see her struggle. Turning away, he strode around the shop, stroking a soft jumper on a table by the window.

  “Cashmere,” she said. “The pink one would suit Ali, she’s been in several times admiring it, but Steve’s wages won’t stretch that far.”

  He shook the sweater out and held it up. “Would it fit her?” He frowned.

  Carly grinned. “It’s for after the child’s born. She’ll want some nice things to wear to remind herself of the days when she didn’
t used to be covered in baby sick.”

  “What size?”

  “Go for a twelve. It you buy too small, it’ll break her heart, or make her crash diet.” She taped the last box. “What else do you need?”

  “Presents for my young cousins, I was wondering about your wooden ships in the window?”

  “Your sister’s already bought those, but I’ve got a matching train set in the back you could give them as a joint gift. It’s quite big.”

  “May I see it?” He wanted to prolong his visit.

  She went through a doorway behind the desk and he heard a loud bang. Should he offer to help? But it had annoyed her last time, instead he looked past the counter, drawing back when she emerged pushing a small wheeled trolley with a large box on top. Removing the lid, he glanced at a red wooden train and black painted tracks. Great, the kids would love it.

  “How much?”

  “Thirty pounds.”

  Opening his wallet, Daniel held out a cash card, it felt strange to be paying her, but she took it easily and beeped it through a machine. Of course, she took money from people she knew all day.

  “Receipt,” she said.

  He reached out to take it and his fingers brushed against hers, the soft touch sending a jolt up his arm. She spoke and he leaned closer, certain he had misheard.

  “Coffee?” she repeated.

  “I’d love some, it was cold out on the water today.”

  She nodded and he cursed himself for his lack of tact. It would have been better not to mention his morning sail. She didn’t comment though, going instead to the door and turning the sign to ‘closed.’

  “We’ll drink it in the back,” she said. “Warmer.”

  Daniel followed her into a small yellow sitting room with a coral sofa, gas fire and black granite work shelf fitted above a fridge. A tree decorated in silver and blue stood in the far corner.

  “I was expecting an upturned orange crate and a flask,” he said.

  “I keep my stock in the cellar.” She smiled and he saw a glimpse of the girl he had known. “I often sleep here during the summer months, there’s a small shower room out the back.”

  An image of her showering appeared in his mind and he sank onto the sofa, grateful that she couldn’t read his thoughts. Carly poured the coffee, placing the cups on a low wooden table in front of him.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  He jumped and spilled droplets of coffee on his trousers.

  “Why did you come back?” she said, sipping her drink.

  “I wanted to see you.” There was no point pretending otherwise. “To check you were all right.”

  “I’m fine, as you can see.”

  He rubbed hard at the split coffee. She didn’t want him here, and it hurt, even though he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Just because the sight of her made his heart race didn’t mean she felt the same.

  “Your mother told me you felt responsible for the accident,” she said. “You mustn’t, it was my fault too, I knew the waves were too strong for sailing, but I thought we could handle it.”

  The kindness in her voice brought a knot to his throat and leaning down, he touched her leg, the useless twisted leg, ripped to the bone by the black cliff rocks.

  “You did blame me because you broke off our relationship. You hated me because I persuaded you to go out that day against your own, correct, judgement.”

  Her head ducked down, but not before he had seen the glint of tears. How often had she cried these last two years?

  “I never hated you, never,” she said.

  “Then why did you order me to go?”

  “Because I was jealous.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t cope with watching you succeed, I worked so hard at sailing and gave up so much to win.” She stared at the floor. “You came into the hospital to tell me about your place in the Nationals, wearing your wet weather gear, smelling of salt and fresh air, skin glowing, exhilarated. I was in my dressing gown, hair lank and greasy, pains shooting up my leg, a walking frame beside me. And I knew then that we were moving in different directions, I couldn’t bear to watch you sail and looking after me would have held you back.”

  Daniel’s shoulders slumped. He’d been so excited to be picked for the team, he rushed to the hospital to tell her. So wrong, so utterly tactless, no wonder she told him to go.

  “You don’t want me here, do you?” he said.

  She looked at him. “I thought my life was over when they told me I’d never sail professionally again, but since you’ve been gone I’ve gone back to college and opened the shop, which is doing well. I’ve got great friends who support me.” She smiled. “I even managed to watch the Olympics and cheer for you.”

  “That couldn’t have been easy.” She’d been obsessed with winning gold, even more than him.

  “Linda put the programme on, not me, but when I saw you battling those huge waves, I prayed for you to win, so all this — ” she tapped her leg “ — hadn’t been for nothing.”

  “My medal is stuffed in a drawer at home, it means zilch, because to win it I had to lose you. I’d give damn thing back tomorrow if it meant you’d be well again, that we could be together again. You should have told me how you felt, because if you wanted me to stop sailing, I would have.”

  Carly put a hand on her stick.

  “I didn’t just lose my chance of a medal that day, I lost my entire world. Sailing was my life. It’s easy to say you would have given it up for me, but I know how hard that actually is.” Her green eyes shone but she held her head high and cleared her throat. “I’ll never race again, but I do want to get some of my old life back. Before you go home, I want you to take me sailing.”

  Daniel stared at her, mouth open. “Of course, how about tomorrow?” He mustn’t give her chance to change her mind, how wonderful it would be to see her take a boat around the harbour again.

  She hesitated. “I haven’t got any waterproof clothes.”

  “I’ll borrow Ali’s, she certainly won’t be wearing them at the moment. We could go first thing in the morning, when it’s quiet, unless the weather is bad. I promise we won’t go if it’s blowing a gale.”

  “You’d be lucky to get me walking around the harbour in bad weather.”

  He grasped her hand, squeezing it tight in excitement. Laughing, she looked up through a fall of bright red hair, so silky it reflected the Christmas tree lights and his smile faded. She was so beautiful. Reaching down, he touched the crimson strands, weaving them between his fingers, soft against his skin. Lifting her hair back, he gazed into her green eyes, the colour of the stormy ocean. Thick sooty lashes lay in an arc over her cheek and beneath them, her mouth. The urge was too strong.

  He pressed his lips to hers, tasting her mouth, so familiar and yet so unknown. Pushing his hand into her hair, he kissed deeper, pulling her against him, catching his breath.

  But Carly pulled back. “No,” she said, her voice gentle. “This isn’t right, too much has happened. We can’t change the past.”

  “We can have a future.”

  She looked down at her leg and to his horror, shook her head.

  “I’ll meet you tomorrow; you can help me with the phobia and then we’ll go our separate ways.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.” Her voice shook.

  “I came back for you.”

  “After two years, Dan. Two years! That’s a long time, I’ve seen pictures of you laughing and chatting, your arm draped over Imogen — you didn’t look like you were suffering. The only reason you came back was because you felt guilty.”

  Huddled into the corner of the sofa, she looked younger, more vulnerable, but in reality she hadn’t changed that much. Inside, she was
still the most obstinate woman he had ever met.

  Standing up, he strode out the shop, slamming the door behind him and marching down the street. So stubborn! Always so stubborn.

  Then he stopped and touched his lips, remembering the feel of her mouth, the way it had fitted his so perfectly, as if their lips had been designed to be interlocked.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Yellow fingers of sunrise reflected on the green waves of the harbour, rippling under a light wind. Carly rested her elbows on the shop windowsill, sweat gathering on her palms. It was perfect sailing weather, but would he come after yesterday? Did she want him to?

  Wiping a circle in the steamed glass, she peered through and drew a sharp breath. Muffled in a hip length blue jacket, feet thrust into heavy boots, Daniel strode along the cobblestones, a large sports bag in his hand. The promised wet gear, or was he leaving Haven Bay again?

  Stepping back from the window, she grabbed two jars of jam from a display and pretended to be arranging them as the door opened and he walked in. Wind had ruffled his hair, he was unshaven, his eyes dark and grim. It was so tempting to run over and comfort him in her arms.

  Daniel put the bag down. “Waterproof clothes for both of us. The wind’s calm, but there’s a spray in the air.”

  Nausea rose in her stomach and she looked out the window at the green waves, remembering their salty tang, their coldness against her skin. It had been so long since she sailed, but she had to do this to stop him from feeling guilty. If he thought she was better, he’d leave Haven Bay to return to his own life. And she wanted that, didn’t she? Carly took a deep breath.