by Robyn Neeley
“I only wish I had.” She glanced back over the rail at the boats. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t increase the prize money even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. Because she wasn’t being blackmailed. But without the entry money, they’d make a loss and she’d be thrown off the committee. Mick wouldn’t only not get his new boat, but it was possible the whole station would be cancelled in favour of a fast craft from Padstow, and she knew from bitter experience that lives would be lost if they tried that.
She squinted across the harbour at the purple gathering clouds. It was snowing, granted, but little more than a dusting on the pavements. “The conditions are fine. I know sailing, Liam, it’s a good wind. The boats aren’t at risk.”
“I know that too, but they’ve banded together and I can’t persuade them.”
“They might need that lifeboat one day, how could they be so selfish? Look, I’ll go and talk to them, if they back out now the whole gala will be a disaster, we promised people sailing races.”
“What the problem?” Daniel said.
Carly whirled around, he stood behind her, beside Imogen who with refreshed hair and makeup, looked even more stunning. But she had bigger concerns now then Imogen.
She left Mick to explain while she glared across the rail at the sailing club. How dare they? And to leave it until the day of the gala as well, someone must have planned this. She’d been out of the sailing world for a couple of years, but surely they ought feel a degree of willingness to help her out? Or at least, not to punch her when her back was turned.
“I’ll speak to them,” Daniel said.
Carly shook her head, this was her fight and she’d make them damn well aware that she wasn’t putting up with such behaviour. He put his hand on her arm and squeezed.
“Let me, you’re angry and it’ll make them worse. I know these people, I race against them.”
“The gala is my concern.”
“But not yours alone, it can’t be; it involves everyone in the community and you’ve done enough. Let me sort this out.”
“Because it’s sailing, and I’m not a sailor anymore?”
“That was a choice you made.”
“I chose to develop a phobia?”
He held his hands out. “This isn’t the time, we’ve got to get those boats in the water.”
“Carly, he’s right,” Mick said. “They’re more likely to listen to him. Look, we need to know how much the stalls are bringing in, take a notebook and get some up-to-date values for us. Then we can work out if we have enough money to increase the prize fund if need be. We brought people here with the promise of a winter sailing tournament and they must have something to watch.”
“I don’t want to give them any more money, there isn’t any risk. The weather is fine,” she said.
“But it won’t be if we delay any further, the clouds are gathering fast,” Daniel said, shielding his eyes to peer at the horizon. “Whatever we do, it has to be done quickly.”
She glanced across the harbour, he was right. “All right, you speak to them, but they’re not having any more money.”
“I’ll take you down,” Mick said. “And show Imogen where to stand for the opening.”
Carly watched them stride off. She’d spent ages planning this gala and it was embarrassing that Daniel had to keep rescuing it. She didn’t like looking incompetent. Sighing, she looked at the stalls; as long as the lifeboat station got the money, did it matter who helped to raise it? Daniel was connected to the teams anyway, he volunteered in Padstow. Staring out at the ocean, green with choppy waves, she shivered at the thought of him out there in the tiny lifeboat, it was a dangerous job that required strong nerves.
Turning her head away from the sea, she felt in her pocket for her small notebook and pencil. They didn’t need her help with the sailing boats anymore, but she knew how to sell goods, and some of the stalls hadn’t set their stock up very well. Look at the Bainbridges on the angling stall — fishing rods at the back so no one could examine them and a large jar of maggots on the counter. True, the creatures would sell, but it might put off the tourists, especially so close to the sweet stand.
She’d have to be polite though, the Bainbridges were keen supporters of the fundraising — with both father and son volunteering at the station, they had a vested interest in getting the new, safer, lifeboat. Wrapping her coat closer to her shoulders, she stepped slowly across the icy cobbles and smiled at them, glancing down at the maggots.
“How it’s going?” she said.
“Trade is slow,” Ian Bainbridge said, leaning on the counter. “I thought we’d do better than this, the sweet stall has queues outside.”
She glanced over, with its hanging bags of pink cotton candy and the rich, sweet smell of hot chocolate from the small machine in the back; it was a far more attractive place to visit then the fishing stall. This was a seaside town though, and anglers would be around. It was just a matter of pointing them in the right direction.
“You’re a bit hidden here,” she said. “And dark; the stalls have power, could you get some lighting from the fishing shop?”
“I could pop back, Dad,” Luke Bainbridge said. Bright eyed and smiling, he leant his elbows on the counter. “We’ve got to do something, letting the side down today.”
“Is there anywhere else that jar of maggots could go?” she said.
Ian frowned. “Best sellers those.”
“Yes, but a sign would be sufficient, in fact it would work even better because you could make it larger.” She glanced at the pot. “I grew up fishing, and that squirming thing is creeping even me out.”
Luke laughed. “You’re right, it is a bit gross. I’ll stick it in the back and put up a sign instead, all the locals know we sell them anyway.”
“Bring some of those coloured floats and silk flies near to the front, maybe even hang some bits outside so people can see what you’re selling here.”
“I suppose we’re used to our usual customers,” Ian said. “They know what we stock and aren’t too fussed about the presentation.”
“It’s a different market here, you want to get the tourists, who might be tempted to head home with a new fishing rod for summer. If it gets hard to shift stuff, you could also drop the prices a little and put up a large notice advertising a winter sale.”
“ All right, Carly, we’ll set to work; have to do our bit to get that lifeboat.”
She nodded, glancing at the young face of Luke Bainbridge. His mother must have sleepless nights when both her husband and son were out on the same rescue.
“Good luck,” she said. “Let me know if I can help at all.”
“We could drape some of your expensive scarves over the rods, light a few candles,” Luke said, grinning.
“I’m not sure you’ll attract the right type of customer,” she said, smiling back. “But borrow anything you like from my stall, Liam’s in charge of it for the day.”
“Not Linda?”
“She’s watching my shop.”
“So you’re not going to shut down for the day?” Ian said. “Hard business woman you are, Carly.”
“I have rent to pay, as well as lifeboats to raise money for, though since a large amount of my stock is here I doubt Linda will sell much!”
Grabbing her stick, she gave a last wave and strode over to the hot chestnut stand, run by Phil and Tony, also of the lifeboat station. Certainly all the crew were doing their best to bring in funds; she couldn’t have organised this day without the assistance they’d given her.
“How are you doing?” she said, heading around the front of the queue.
Tony turned around from the chestnuts, his muscles swelling the arms of his thin top, and grinned. “Hello Carls, here to check we’re not slacking?”
“Aren’t you cold?�
� she said.
“Not at all, warm as toast here by the cooker. Want some chestnuts?”
“I’ll have a bag.” She watched him scoop them up and taking them, hugged them tight to her chest. The freezing weather seeped even through her coat and glancing toward the harbour, she frowned.
“It’s going to get a bit blowy later,” Tony said, following her gaze. “Are you going to be able to get the sailing races over before those clouds settle in?”
She nodded, not wanting to depress them with the news that there might not be a sailing race. Damn Duncan, she was sure he was involved in all this. She knew her fellow sailors, they’d all been enthusiastic when she made the arrangements. Someone had been working on them and there was only one person she knew who was so set against the lifeboat station that he would bother to do this. Duncan wasn’t even from Haven Bay and certainly had no connections with either the sailors or fishermen, whose lives depended on the station. Shivering, she hugged the chestnut bag closer. What else was Duncan planning? Exactly how far would he go to ensure the Bay lost its lifeboat station?
“We’ve moved the times of the races forward,” she said.
“That’s good, we don’t want to start the day with a demonstration of how the lifeboats really work. Although.” He grinned. “It might help raise a bit more money; will we have enough after today?”
“Sadly not, we’ll have about half, so it’ll be a while longer before we get the boat, another year of fundraising I expect. We can use the Summer Gala too to bring some money in.”
His smile faded and he looked at the high ocean waves crashing beyond the harbour. She knew what he was thinking, what all the lifeboat crew were thinking. Would their current boat last that long? If it got damaged in a rescue, or the old engine simply gave up, then the town could be left without a lifeboat during the vicious storms of winter. She never would have survived if a keen eyed walker on the cliff top hadn’t spotted her in the water, held up by Daniel, and summoned the coast guard to save her. The least she could do in return was to ensure the brave crew who set out to perform such daring rescues had the safest and most up to date craft.
Looking back at Tony and Phil, she smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you that lifeboat, if only so I don’t have to face Mrs. Bainbridge, if we don’t manage it.”
“She’s got it rough, both her men out there; my wife hates me doing it,” Tony said. “But she knows I have to volunteer, it’s only fair, after all. Mick saved me when my boat went down.”
“See you later.” Carly walked away, wondering how many charities were kept running due to a sense of obligation by the volunteers to help others in the way they themselves had been assisted. It was almost certainly why Daniel joined the Padstow crew, it was a shame she couldn’t do something similar, but with an injured leg and a fear of water, she’d be no good on a life craft, more hindrance than help. No, she’d continue her work on the shore, raising money for those brave souls who ventured out on nights when the waves reached fifteen feet.
Rubbing her eyes, she bought a coffee from the hot drinks stall to keep herself awake and strode over to her brother. He smiled when she approached, pointing to the blank spaces on the counter in front of him. A couple of years ago, he never would have helped out at something like this. Until her accident, Liam thought only of himself, but seeing the help she received from the town had changed him.
“We’ve done well,” he said. “Sold nearly all the stock, just a couple of cashmere scarves left.”
“I had a feeling they’d stick, they’re the most expensive items,” Carly said, reaching out to stroke the soft wool. “But the cold wind might persuade people later. The gala’s about to open, did you want to see Imogen’s speech?”
“No, that’s all right, I’ll stay here. You should go, can’t miss your own gala opening after the work you put in.”
She nodded, not wanting to watch it, but knowing she should be there, if only to show a bit of support for the girl who’d turned up last night to receive bad news. The situation between Daniel and Imogen wasn’t her fault, but it made her feel uncomfortable.
“I’ll see you in a bit then, let me know if you need a break.”
Her cane slipped on the thin coating of snow as she strode away and she slowed down, cheeks stinging from the increasing wind. Crowds lined the harbour, young men standing on tiptoe for a better view of Imogen, who’d certainly drawn far more people than the mayor would have. She just had to hope that there was something for them to watch.
Reaching the rail, she resisted the urge to glance down to see if any people sat in the small sailing dinghies moored to the jetty.
“Heard you’re having problems with your competitors?” a voice said.
Duncan stood behind her, shrouded in a black winter coat that reached his feet, making him appear taller and more menacing.
“Daniel’s talking to them,” she said.
“Good old Daniel, handy your boyfriend returned to rescue you.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“No, I suppose not. He’s got that other girl with him now, I see, blonde and very attractive.”
“What do you want, Duncan?”
“I don’t want anything, I’m just here helping out. Talking to people, checking it’s all going well, because we don’t want any mistakes now, do we? Not with the media here, there’d be nothing worse than a publically reported humiliation.”
“What media?”
“Oh, didn’t anyone tell you? The local news teams have turned up to televise the races, should be on tonight at six. Unless we don’t have enough competitors of course, or people of such low value that it’s not worth the effort. At which point they might do a programme on the terrible waste of police and council time over a gala that was destined to fail from day one.”
She swallowed, staring at his wide, flat face, her fist bunching in her pocket, how tempting it was to smack him straight between the eyes. The old Carly would have gone ahead and taken the consequences, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction now. She could just picture his bruised face and woebegone expression at the next fundraising meeting, the one when she was thrown out for assaulting a member of the committee. No, she had to play this carefully, he had reasons for not wanting a life station in Haven Bay and by getting herself banned, she’d be doing exactly what he wanted.
She grinned. “That’s excellent, I’m glad they’ve arrived, extra publicity. We might get some more donations into the fund. Now, excuse me Duncan, I’ve got work to do.”
Walking away, she dug her cane into the cobblestones. No doubt some of the people he’d been talking to that morning were the sailing crew, telling them that the committee had plenty of money for prizes and that they were foolish to risk their boats for such a small fee. She had to find a way to get him off the committee; he’d changed from a mere irritation into someone who could be downright dangerous. If she had solid evidence, she’d go to Mick and tell him. The thought of the brave coxswain of the lifeboat crew challenging the jumped-up little local councillor made her smile.
Farther up the street, Imogen stood on a small wooden stage erected beside the stairs leading to the landing jetty, clutching a large pair of scissors in her hand. A blue ribbon had been tied across the steps and a camera crew crouched in front, holding a boom over her head. It was clear why she was a top TV presenter, even at such short notice, she’d written a nice, cute little speech with an emotional plea at the end for funds. Considering this was her first time in Haven Bay, she made it sound like the place was a personal favourite of hers, ending with a wide smile that most of the crowd responded to with a loud clap, as she cut the ribbon.
Carly looked away, it was painful to hear the girl praising a town she wouldn’t have cause to ever visit again. She’d helped them out for no personal gain at all, unlike the sailors, demanding their extra
cash. Craning her head, she peered down at the empty landing jetty and cursed; it didn’t look like Daniel had been successful.
But Imogen moved back to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve got a special guest to announce, the double gold Olympic winner, Daniel Edwards!”
Carly’s mouth dropped open, this hadn’t been part of the plan. What was he up to? Her breathing quickened as he stepped in front of the crowd, unfazed by the faces looking up at him. He’d unfastened his jacket and it hung open, showing a flash of red T-shirt that glowed against the grey sky.
“Well, Haven Bay,” he said. “I’ve heard there’s going to be a sailing event here.” The crowd cheered. “And I challenge the sailors among you to a race, if one of you can beat me, a double gold winner … ”
Carly caught her breath: that was the reason behind Imogen’s over the top announcement, she’d feared he was getting above himself. She stepped nearer. Daniel knew his fellow competitors, they could never resist a challenge.
“ … I’ll personally increase the prize fund to five thousand pounds, with an additional five thousand going to the lifeboat fund. But you’ve got to beat me first.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head as he surveyed the crowd. “Not sure anyone here can do that.”
The crowd roared, with a mixture of laughter and encouragement. Mouth open, Carly shook her head. She didn’t want Daniel to save her, now she would have to be grateful and she didn’t want any sense of obligation to him. Why couldn’t he have left her to deal with it?
Probably because he knew she’d just get angry and achieve nothing. His methods would work, but they hurt her pride, and after striving for so long to be independent, it was humiliating to have him come sweeping in to rescue her. Or was she just ungrateful? He was being nice to her and all she could do was criticise.
She didn’t want to watch him sail, that was the real problem. It had been hard enough to see it during the Olympics, and that had been on the TV. Now she would have to stand at the rail and wave with a smile plastered on her face, while her legs trembled and hands shook. She’d been a better sailor than him once, now she waited on the harbour wall with the land folk, while he sped out to sea, waves rushing beneath his boat. This was why she couldn’t forgive him, why she could never spend her life with him. In order for them to be together, he would have to give up sailing and she could never ask him to do that, because it had almost destroyed her to lose it.