Tony sounded the horn, which made her jump. The dinghy tilted further.
Barney addressed her through the loudspeaker. ‘This is the RNLI. Are you experiencing difficulties, miss? Do you require our assistance?’
Nate’s searchlight landed on her, and he nudged Tony. ‘I think that’s your boat.’
Tony drew closer to the stricken vessel. ‘Bloody hell, it is.’ He peered closer. ‘Is that … my daughter?’
Barney looked again, confusion and shock vying for prime position in his brain.
The woman waved frantically. ‘Help me!’ she yelled, holding onto the mast. ‘I need help!’
Barney nearly fell out of the boat. ‘Shit!’ He staggered to his feet. ‘Charlotte? Is that you?’
And then the boat lurched again, momentum sending her one way and then scrabbling back the other.
What the hell? ‘Stay where you are,’ he called. ‘We’re coming to get you.’
Neither his brain nor the boat would move quickly enough. It seemed to take forever to reach her. Tony had to slow the engine so the swell didn’t tip the sailboat over. Questions filled his brain. Why was she here? What was she doing? But the only words that left his mouth were, ‘I didn’t know she could sail?’ to which Tony responded, ‘She can’t!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
… Earlier that evening
Having made the decision to quit Quality Interiors and permanently relocate to Penmullion, Charlotte hadn’t known what kind of reception she’d receive when she’d arrived at Lauren’s flat earlier that evening. But she needn’t have worried. The moment she stepped over the threshold, bodies had appeared from nowhere, letting off party poppers and yelling, ‘Surprise!’ Tears had filled her eyes as they’d hugged her and welcomed her home. They were right. Penmullion was home.
Her dad and Nate hadn’t been at the flat to greet her, they were on call, which was how she’d discovered that Barney had moved back to Penmullion and was volunteering for the RNLI. She couldn’t believe it. Barney was back in Cornwall? Apparently, he didn’t know about her return, either. Her friends and family had kept it a secret, figuring she’d like to surprise him herself. It had been a surreal moment; one her brain was still struggling to compute.
Urged on by her friends and family, she’d run from the flat and headed for the quayside, her mind in overdrive. Would Barney be pleased to see her? Would he forgive her for running away? God, she hoped so. It couldn’t have been easy for him to admit he didn’t want their ‘fling’ to end. And how had she reacted? She’d thrown his outpouring of love back in his handsome face. It was up to her to make amends. She needed to do something big, a grand gesture that would show him how she felt … because, despite her continued insistence that he was only a temporary distraction, she was head over in heels in love with him.
It was only when she was almost as the quayside and running out of breath that it occurred to her it would have been easier to drive to the boathouse. The shortest route might be across the bay, but she would have arrived sooner if she’d jumped in her car and taken the coastal road. What an idiot. She was obviously too flustered to think straight.
She could see the RNLI boathouse across the other side of the water. However, running across the beach in the dark would be challenging and exhausting. As would running back up the hill to fetch her car. She needed another mode of transport. Maybe she could catch one of the water taxis?
Buoyed by the idea, she crossed the footbridge, her new-found confidence squashing any nervousness at being suspended over water. Her desire to see Barney overrode any fear of falling in. But her enthusiasm took a brief hit when she realised the water taxis were no longer running. What had she been thinking? It was gone seven o’clock on a dismal October evening. Of course the taxis wouldn’t be running.
And then she realised she didn’t have her handbag with her. Which meant she had no phone. Stupid woman.
Maybe she could persuade someone with a boat to take her across?
She resumed running down the wooden mooring where all the boats were secured.
Adrenaline, excitement and a tad too much Prosecco meant that when she ran past the sailing boat moored alongside her dad’s houseboat, she ground to a halt. A flash of inspiration hit.
The tale of Tristan and Isolde filled her head. The romance of Barney looking out from the RNLI boathouse and for him to see the white sails flapping in the wind, an indication that his love was on board and coming home. It was enough to spur her on. It was the perfect gesture. Romantic … daring … dramatic …
And then common sense prevailed. She was not a sailor, she wasn’t wearing a life vest, and getting stuck at sea was far from romantic. It was idiotic. She needed another plan.
But her sudden change of direction toppled her off balance and she lost her footing. There was nothing solid to grab hold of, only air, so when she reached out, gravity took over and she found herself falling. It could have been worse; she could have landed in the sea. As it happened, she fell haphazardly into the boat. Pain shot up her legs as her shins banged against the hull. One shoe pinged off, landing in the water. Great. Now she was lopsided.
But she had more pressing things to worry about, like the instability of the boat. Having never been on a sailing dinghy before, the shock of suddenly rocking from side to side almost sent her overboard. She grabbed hold of the boom to steady herself, which tugged on the rope securing the boat to its mooring. Before she knew what was happening, the boat was drifting away from the dock. She tried to grab hold of the jetty, but it was out of reach.
She needed to do something, and quickly. Trying to steady her nerves, she focused on what her dad had instructed the kids to do when she’d watched him teaching Freddie and Florence to sail. Use the boom to change direction. The centreboard to balance the boat, and the jib to propel the boat forwards. She also needed the sails up, otherwise she was going nowhere.
Realising the boat wasn’t about to stop rocking anytime soon, she tentatively untied the ropes securing the mainsail and watched as billowing white sheeting caught in the wind, expanding like a giant balloon and shooting her forwards. Oh, God. She was making things worse.
The boat was tilting to one side, water was collecting by her feet, and the boom was swinging about like an untethered … well, an untethered boom. Logic told her that if she didn’t do something soon the boat was going to capsize, and there was nothing romantic about drowning.
A gust of wind caught the mainsail, dragging the boat out to sea. This was not good.
A flash of light caught her attention. A woman was standing on the deck of one of the moored boats waving a torch, asking if she was okay. No, she was most definitely not okay.
‘Help!’ Charlotte called, her voice almost lost in the wind.
The woman disappeared inside her boat. Thankfully, she reappeared moments later with a phone attached to her ear. She was getting help. Excellent.
Exhaustion was now a factor. Charlotte’s jeans were damp from water spray, she was cold and losing her grip on the tiller as her hands became sore. It therefore didn’t register what kind of help was on its way. It was only when she saw the distinctive orange boat and flashing searchlights skimming the water that she realised she was about to be rescued by the RNLI … and there was a good chance Barney would be on board. Not awkward at all.
The sound of a horn made her jump. The dinghy tilted further to one side. She tried to shift her weight to the other side. Jesus, and she’d thought climbing up a tree house was scary.
And then Barney’s voice cut through the night air via a loudspeaker. ‘This is the RNLI. Are you experiencing difficulties, miss? Do you require our assistance?’ The searchlight landed on her.
Using her free hand, she waved, lopsidedly balancing on one shoe. ‘Help me!’ she yelled. ‘I need help!’
‘Shit!… Charlotte? Is that you?’ He sounded surprised. She couldn’t think why.
The boat lurched again. She struggled to find her footing, th
e momentum of the waves sending her one way, then scrabbling back the other.
‘Stay where you are,’ he called. ‘We’re coming to get you.’
Despite slowing the engine, the sailboat rocked harder as the rescue boat neared. The front end lifted and then dropped, causing her to stagger backwards and lose her other shoe. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on.
And then a sudden swirl of wind whipped the boom from her hand. The next thing she knew it was swinging towards her. If she didn’t duck soon …
Too late.
A crack to the head. Blackness. Pain.
When her senses returned, she felt the sting of cold sucking air from her lungs. More pain. A rushing in her ears. An inability to move, to breathe, to scream … it was like being in the weir all over again … her life flashing before her, images flickering like old cine-film, memories of Muddy Sunday, her mother, Lauren, her dad … she couldn’t lose them, not again …
And then someone grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her from the water. Her hips banged against something solid, and she was pulled into the inflatable lifeboat. In amongst the trauma of trying to cough up water, a familiar voice penetrated the noise of the boat engine, the wind, and water filling her ears. ‘Charlotte! Can you hear me? Look at me.’
A warm hand touched her cheek. She opened her eyes. All she could see was a white helmet and a mass of blue and yellow. Slowly Barney’s face came into focus. ‘H … h … hello.’
‘It’s okay. You’re safe.’ He wrapped her in a large piece of foil, pushing wet hair from her face. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’
The boat moved beneath her as they bounced across the water, but she no longer felt concerned. Barney had hold of her. She was safe. ‘Sorry … for … for … running … away.’ Her teeth were chattering so hard she could barely speak.
He pulled her close, something she guessed wasn’t in the RNLI training manual. Not unless they encouraged volunteers to cuddle the people they’d rescued. ‘That’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Glenda.’
‘I understand why … why you … didn’t.’ Her whole body was violently shaking, like a malfunctioning washing machine.
He felt the side of her head, where a lump was forming. ‘You might have concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?’
She squinted, trying to focus on his hands. ‘Four.’ He had lovely hands.
‘Good. Can you see me okay? Am I in focus?’ He looked at her with such concern, she wanted to stay like that forever, in his arms, being caressed … if she wasn’t soaked through to the skin.
She was by no means warm, but her jaw was starting to loosen, allowing her to speak through the chattering of her teeth. ‘So, you’re … you’re a volunteer now? That’s … that’s good.’
He rubbed her back. ‘I also have a new job. I’m a medic with the Cornwall Air Ambulance.’ His grin told her this was good news. ‘I start on Monday.’
Warmth flooded her insides, a contrast to the chill biting her skin. ‘Does that mean you’re staying in Pen … Penmullion?’
He nodded. ‘How lucky am I? I get to live the dream. Surfing, singing, acting, a career that excites me. It took me a while to get there, but I’m finally where I want to be.’
Even in the darkness, she could see the sparkle in his eyes. ‘I admire your determination to live a … a life less ordinary.’
‘I have you to thank for that. You encouraged me to try something different.’ He held onto her when they bounced over a high wave.
‘I’m pleased for you.’ Her voice was almost lost against the noise of the engine. ‘You’ve got … everything you wanted.’
‘Almost.’
Dare she hope?
As the boathouse came into view, she could see Freddie and Florence standing on the jetty with Lauren, flanked by Sylvia and Dusty. They were huddled together looking concerned: they must have been alerted to her antics out at sea. She guessed she’d given them quite a fright. Herself included. She’d always wondered how people got themselves into such dangerous situations, and now she knew the answer. Pure stupidity.
As her dad drew alongside the jetty, the sound of Barney’s voice brought her back to the present. ‘Mind your step,’ he said, helping her out of the boat.
Her dad pulled her onto the walkway. ‘I don’t know whether to hug you or shout at you,’ he said. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause so … so much trouble.’ Her teeth were still chattering.
‘What on earth made you think you could sail a boat?’
She flinched. ‘It just sort of … happened. I was at the quayside … trying to work out how to … to cross the bay when I saw … your sailing dinghy.’
He looked incredulous. ‘And you decided to take it? You could’ve drowned.’
‘I realise that now, but I lost … lost my balance and the next thing I knew I was … drifting out to sea. I’m so … sorry.’
He shook his head. ‘Never mind, it’s over now. Let’s get you inside and warmed up.’ He led her down the jetty.
Entering the boathouse, she could see that the welcome party had relocated from Lauren’s flat. Food was laid out in the kitchen, and balloons were scattered about the floor.
‘Give the poor girl room to breathe,’ Sylvia said, bustling past. ‘She’s probably exhausted. Cup of tea, love?’
Dusty appeared, and offered her a large glass of pink Prosecco, towering over her in red knee-high boots. ‘This is a party, Sylvia. The woman needs booze.’
Sylvia gasped. ‘She nearly drowned.’
‘All the more reason to celebrate.’ Dusty pinned Charlotte with a look. ‘You stole a boat? A little dramatic, darling, even for you.’
Charlotte started coughing, her lungs still full of seawater. ‘Dumb, huh?’
Lauren patted her on the back. ‘Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. Barney says he has something you can wear.’
Freddie ran over, carrying a squashed jam sandwich. ‘Try one of my sandwiches, Auntie Charlie. I made them specially.’
‘Especially.’ Lauren rolled her eyes. ‘And use a napkin, please, Freddie.’
He ran off to fetch one.
Florence hugged her wet aunt. ‘I’m especially happy you’ve come back, Auntie Charlie.’ She glanced up at her mother. ‘Girls are much smarter than boys.’
‘Is that so?’ Nate picked her up, making her squeal with delight as he carried her around the boathouse. His eyes drifted to Lauren, and they shared a moment, a look laced with love, lust, and a longing to be alone.
Charlotte smiled. ‘No need to ask how things are going with Nate.’
Lauren’s cheeks coloured. ‘We’ve been on a few dates. So far so good. He’s …’
‘Lovely? Besotted? Devoted?’
Lauren laughed. ‘All of the above.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Not that I doubted for a moment that he wouldn’t be,’ she said, following her sister upstairs, so she could remove her clothes, which seemed to have glued themselves to her skin.
Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the shower stench-free and no longer quite so cold. Her head was sore where the boom had hit, but there was no blood. Wrapping herself in a towel, she came out of the bathroom to find dry clothes waiting for her. ‘So, what else have I missed while I’ve been away?’
Lauren handed her a pair of jogging bottoms. ‘Glenda’s been sentenced to community service. It was her first offence, and she didn’t use violence, so in the scheme of things, she’s considered a small-time player.’
‘It didn’t stop her making your life miserable, though.’ Charlotte accepted the offer of Barney’s hoodie.
‘I know, but thanks to the Proceeds of Sale Act, she’s had to return everything I paid her. I felt bad about accepting the original loan money, so I donated it to the RNLI. I’m using the rest to buy the kids bikes for Christmas.’
‘Great idea
.’ Charlotte couldn’t be prouder of her sister, who was positively glowing. Love suited her. ‘Has there been any backlash?’
Lauren shook her head. ‘Everyone’s been really supportive. Glenda’s talking about moving away, so that’ll make life easier. I can’t say I’m sorry.’
‘Me neither.’ Her sister handed her a pair of RNLI yellow wellies. ‘Seriously?’
Lauren laughed. ‘Sorry, it’s all they had.’
Charlotte didn’t need a mirror to tell her she looked a mess. Her hair was a riot of wet curls, she was wearing a man’s tracksuit, and now she was waddling about in too-big yellow wellies. A few months ago, she would have had a meltdown. Not now … well, not much.
‘Ready to rejoin the party?’ Lauren linked her arm through her sister’s.
As they descended the stairs, Charlotte spotted her dad’s tentative expression. He was chatting to Sylvia, his attention switching to his daughters as they neared. ‘Is Dad okay about everything?’
‘Totally. Plus, now he and Sylvia are officially a couple, his loyalties have been redirected elsewhere.’
As if sensing he was the topic of conversation, he came over and kissed Charlotte’s cheek. ‘Feeling better, love? You gave us quite a fright.’ He looked a little emotional, causing Sylvia to scuttle over and check he was okay.
Charlotte hugged him. ‘Much better, thanks. Sorry again for causing so much trouble.’
‘Just don’t do anything like that again,’ he said, trying to look reprimanding. ‘The sea is an unforgiving place. Supposing I’d lost you?’ His hug tightened, as he rocked her from side to side, just like he’d done when she was a child. ‘You’re safe, that’s the main thing.’ And then he pulled away, his expression turning serious. ‘I know this probably isn’t the time or place, but … well, I … just wanted to say that I’m sorry too.’
‘What on earth for? I was the one who nearly capsized a boat.’
‘Not about tonight.’ He shook his head. ‘For not trying harder to bond with you after your mother died. I was so caught up in my own grief, I failed to notice how you were affected by it. By the time I realised, it was too late. I’d lost you.’
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