Entrance to the Harbour

by Peters, Sue

  `Is it a big job, on your engine?’ Julian asked lazily, smiling at the boy’s excited acceptance.

  `No, it’s stuttering a bit, that’s all. I can manage her until I’ve got a replacement part, I know how to nurse her along,’ Dan said complacently.

  Trust Dan to be sure of his ability to cope ! Jo thought waspishly. One half of her loved his rugged self-confidence, the other, angry half of her longed to put a dent in his arrogance, and did not know how.

  `You and your boat !’ Julian laughed indulgently. But I heard Hannah say she wanted to go into St Mendoc for some groceries or something. She might like a lift too,’ he put in a word for the housekeeper.

  `That gives me two passengers,’ Dan agreed good-humouredly. ‘How about you, Jo?’ He raised his eyebrows

  quizzically in her direction. ‘Do you want to go into St Mendoc for anything?’

  `I want to go to look for rooms for myself and Chris,’ she snapped ungraciously.

  `I was rather hoping you’d agree to stay with us for a while, until the insurance on the cottage is settled.’ Julian turned towards her, his usual gentle manner troubled. ‘I’ve been in contact with the solicitors today, and they’ve got everything in hand, but you know these things take a little time to settle, and I may need you to sign things and so on,’ he explained. ‘I’m afraid my leg doesn’t take kindly to the streets of St Mendoc these days,’ he added ruefully, ‘to say the least of it they’re steep, and I find the cobbles difficult to negotiate, particularly if they’re wet.’ He got up from his chair to replenish his coffee cup at the tray, and his limp was more pronounced, as it usually was at the end of the day, when he was tired.

  `I would come to see you,’ Jo protested. ‘There’d be no need for you to bother coming out to St Mendoc, all you would need to do is phone, and I’d come straight away.’ It was good of Julian to see to the insurance on the cottage for her, it was unthinkable that he should be put to more inconvenience than was necessary.

  `The cottages in St Mendoc don’t usually boast telephones,’ Dan cut across her protest drily. ‘The hotel does, but that’s to be expected in one with a four-star rating.’ He gave her oblique warning of the possible cost of accommodation there. `I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with us for a little while longer.’ His eyes mocked her across the width of the hearth, and even when she closed her own in the welcome dark of her bedroom later she could not shut them out, so that long after the rest of the house slumbered, she tossed restlessly, and at last got up and drew the curtains, to watch the string of lights far out to sea where part of the Penderick fleet hunted, silent and intent, gleaning the dark waters.

  `I’m going to have a look at the guillemot before breakfast, if you’d like to come with me?’ Dan met her on the way downstairs the next morning. ‘You’re up early,’ he commented, his eyes keen on her face.

  `I thought I’d go for a walk before breakfast, it’s a nice morning.’ She did not care if it was pouring with rain so long as she could escape from her room, which felt like a prison after her sleepless night

  `Do you think the bird will still be alive?’ She hesitated. She felt depressed already, and if …

  `I’m pretty certain he will be. Come,’ Dan took her elbow persuasively, ‘you saw how he perked up when you helped me to clean the oil off him before dinner last night.’

  It was incredible. Jo didn’t believe that the limp, oily creature lying helplessly in Dan’s cupped palms, while under his direction she gently brushed the oil soaked feathers with warm soapy water, could even want to live, so weak it seemed. The hopelessness of their task choked her, the tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks at the pitiful waste, blinding her eyes so that she rubbed them with her sleeve to clear her vision—her hands were too soapy to reach for her handkerchief.

  `I wouldn’t have let you help me if I thought it would make you cry. No, let the bird rest for a while.’ Dan laid it down and took both her hands in his own, his face creased with concern.

  `I’m not usually so silly.’

  `You’ve gone through a bad time lately.’ Without releasing her he turned and picked up a clean towel that waited in readiness to dry out the guillemot’s feathers. let me dry your hands, you’re all soapy. There, you can dry your eyes with your hanky now. Let me do it,’ as she fumbled, still unable to see properly. ‘That’s better.’ With tender hands he dried her cheeks. ‘Brown eyes are made for smiles, not tears,’ he admonished her. Was it really Dan who whispered to her? Words that sounded like poetry to

  her ears as he drew her to him, his head bent above her in a concerned manner that had more of Julian in it than the bluff owner of the Kittiwake.

  `Cry away,’ he urged, and gathered her close in his arms, as if she was a child in need of comfort. ‘In a storm, you either bend or break.’

  `I daren’t let go in front of Chris.’ Her words were muffled against his chest, her face turned down so that she need not look into his. If only he would, he could give her all the strength her heart yearned for, and it need never stand on its own again.

  `You can let go in front of me.’ Dan pressed her to him, and his words stabbed her heart like a knife. It mattered if she let go in front of Chris. Because of her brother’s affection, her distress would upset him too. It would not upset Dan unduly, because he did not care for her, except for a humane concern that seemed a part of the man for all his fellow creatures.

  She raised her head, leaning away from him, and found his face hovering close above her hair, as if—she tensed, and caught her breath. His last kiss had been a taunt. She did not want another out of pity.

  Unk!

  `There, what did I tell you?’ A slow smile wiped the concern from Dan’s face, and he gestured down towards their feet. ‘Look, he’s feeling better already.’

  Was that the guillemot?’ Her own distress temporarily forgotten, Jo stared at the bird. Two shoe-button eyes looked unwinkingly back.

  `Help me to shower him off,’ Dan urged her, ‘then we’ll feed him if we can.’

  This time Jo cradled the bird, while Dan used a bathroom hair spray to swill its feathers free of soap.

  `He’ll have to have another wash either tomorrow or the next day, depending on how he progresses.’

  `He seems to be enjoying it.’ Jo watched in amazement as the bird tried feebly to ruffle its feathers under the tepid shower.

  `They usually do,’ Dan grinned. ‘In fact the ones that are in the convalescent pens will try and wriggle under the shower for a free bath if you lease it on. Now let’s blot the drips off him and see if he’ll take a strip of fish.’ He rolled the bird and Jo’s hands all together inside the warm towel. `You can loose him, now.’ She drew her hands away reluctantly, conscious of the strong support of Dan’s fingers. Longing for them to stay there, and too proud to let hers lie within their clasp. She watched as he patted the guillemot’s wet body as it lay with its head outside the towel, blinking contentedly, as if it knew it had reached a safe haven at last.

  `Now let’s try him with a strip of fish.’ Dan picked up a long, raw sliver and dangled it enticingly over the bird’s head. For a second or two nothing happened, and then with a quick dart its beak clasped on the fish, and with a shake of the feathered head it disappeared down its throat.

  `He’ll do for tonight.’ After another piece of fish had been swallowed, and a third refused, Dan returned the bird to its basket.

  `Do you want another hot water bottle for it?’

  `No, I keep lamps over the sick ones, similar to incubators in a chicken hatchery. It keeps a gentle warmth in the pens, which is enough until they’re on their feet again.’ He shut the pen door behind him. ‘I’ll show you the others tomorrow,’ he promised, ‘it’s too near dinner time to visit them now.’ He would show her what work he wanted her to do, Jo guessed, but she made no comment. It seemed the only way of relieving her of her obligation to him, and she accompanied him in to dinner in silence.

  Now, in the fresh, clean light of a n
ew day, unaccountably she shrank from facing what she had helped him to do last night

  `He’s not here.’ She tensed, waiting for Dan to open the pen door, and found she was trembling.

  Unk!

  `He’s waiting at the door for some more fish. It didn’t take him long to learn,’ Dan laughed.

  `His feathers look a different colour this morning. Oh, just look at the size of his feet!’ Jo let out a gusty laugh of sheer relief.

  `They’d be a big ache if he had to walk instead of fly,’ Dan grinned. ‘Let’s see if he’s prepared to be friendly.’ He closed the pen door behind them and bent his knees beside the guillemot, upright now and watching them both hopefully.

  `Most of them like their chins scratched.’ He put out a tentative forefinger.

  `Birds don’t have chins,’ Jo giggled, gay with relief from her previous strain.

  `Well, the feathered equivalent, then,’ Dan conceded loftily. ‘Look, he likes it.’ To Jo’s surprise the bird lifted its head with every appearance of enjoyment, and sat perfectly still while Dan ruffled its throat feathers.

  `Here’s your reward.’ The man held out a piece of fish, and this time the guillemot did not hesitate. With a quick gulp and a headshake it disappeared.

  Unk!

  `Does that mean thank you, or I want some more, I wonder?’ Jo chuckled, and at the sound of her voice the bird shuffled hopefully towards her. ‘Let’s call him Flippers.’ She raised a delighted face towards her companion.

  `No !’ Dan said sternly, and he put his hand under her arm and drew her to her feet. ‘The birds become very friendly, particularly the guillemots.’

  `Then why …?’ Puzzled and rebuffed, she stared at him in open surprise.

  `Because you have to learn to let them go, and giving them a name simply makes it more difficult.’ Dan led her firmly outside the cage and shut the door with equal firmness on the bird, which plodded hopefully behind them. ‘It isn’t fair to the birds to try and chain them,’ he said quietly.

  `I wasn’t thinking of chaining him …’

  `Affection can be just as strong a chain as one forged from iron. It isn’t kind to make a pet out of a wild creature, they’re best among their own kind, leading their natural lives. Come and look at the birds in this pen,’ he propelled her insistently away from the disappointed Unk ! which followed their departure. ‘In another few days, this lot can be set free if they continue to float as they’re doing now.’ He gestured towards a group of assorted seabirds disporting themselves in an artificial pool inside the second netting enclosure.

  `Why shouldn’t they float? They’re water birds.’

  `The cleaning process can take some of the natural oil from their feathers. I have to make sure they’re capable of remaining on top of the water before I let them go,’ Dan explained. ‘It’s quite a sight to see them take off,’ he added enthusiastically, ‘you’ll have to come with me when we set this lot free, I usually take them to the tip of Penderick Head and set them loose from there.’

  Freedom meant a great deal to her companion, Jo surmised. ‘Affection can be just as strong a chain as one forged from iron …’ There spoke a loner, one whose feet loved the feel of a shifting deck, and the fierce challenge of the elements to pit his strength against. It would need a strong woman to win this man, a strong woman to hold him. Tessa maybe had this strength. Did she herself? Jo wondered. Or did Dan regard her inexperience of his alien world as weakness on her part, an object of scorn, to laugh about when he was in Tessa’s company?

  `It wasn’t today I wanted to get the groceries, Mr Julian, it was tomorrow,’ Hannah told him reproachfully as she

  cleared away the breakfast things. ‘The shops will all be shut today. Your bookshop as well,’ she told Chris.

  `And I happen to know your engine bit won’t be ready for you, the foreman at the boatyard told me to give you a message when I took our day’s consignment to the flower train this morning. He won’t have it in until tomorrow,’ a light voice informed Dan from the doorway, and Jo’s heart sank.

  Tessa! Everywhere she went, she seemed to bump into the girl.

  `I’ve brought you some narcissus, Hannah.’ Tessa turned with an ingratiating smile to the housekeeper. ‘They’re my favourite perfume. I think you remember people by their favourite perfume.’ She glanced provocatively across at Dan.

  So even when she left the house Tessa intended to leave a reminder of herself behind. The girl fought her battles with all the cunning of a military tactician, and in spite of her dislike, Jo had to admire her determination. Tessa wanted Dan Penderick, and she meant to have him, even if Dan was not aware of the fact. Jo wondered if he was really blind to the girl’s persistent campaign. He was certianly not blind to her beauty, that much was evident when he had let her kiss him in return for the fish when the Kittiwake docked. It was a reversal of roles, for the hunter to become the quarry, Jo thought without humour, and wondered if Dan minded. He was of the type to do his own hunting, savouring the chase as well as the capture. With Tessa, maybe he did not mind. Jo considered her dispassionately. She was startlingly beautiful, with a wild, gypsy loveliness that would make lesser hearts than Dan’s beat faster. Jo felt her own delicate loveliness pale into insignificance beside Tessa.

  `Can Melanie come out to play?’ Deprived of his lookedforward-to outing, Chris sought an alternative.

  `Melanie can stay and do the chores for a change,’ Tessa snapped. ‘And I’ll have a morning free for once. You’ve got nothing to do, either, now you can’t get your engine part.’ Her voice was soft, inviting, and she spoke to Dan alone.

  `I’ve got one or two things to see to.’ He smiled back at her, his blue eyes teasing.

  `I’ll stay and help you,’ she said promptly.

  `To bait lobster pots?’

  `Ugh!’ Tessa shook her head firmly. Obviously the task did not appeal to her.

  `Go and tend your flowers.’ His smile softened. ‘What I’m about to do is no job for a pretty girl.’

  He hadn’t minded Jo helping him clean the guillemot free from oil. He did not seem to think that was not a job for her. Maybe he expected her—Jo—to help him with the lobster pots. To circumvent such a possibility she immediately made up her mind on another outing for herself and Chris.

  `We’ll go along the beach and look for stones. You never know, we might find some I can make into a bracelet to match Melanie’s pendant.’

  She did not think Tessa would refuse to let the young girl accept it. Certainly she would not say anything in front of Dan, and thus confident of going unchallenged, Jo walked past Tessa with her chin held high, taking a willing Chris, who was keen to help find a present for his new friend.

  `What d’you bait lobster pots with?’ he wanted to know, and Jo shook her head. She did not care, and had no intention of asking, particularly in front of Tessa.

  `Fish offal.’ Lance saved her the trouble as he shrugged into a windcheater and made for his car. ‘Why, do you want to help?’ he enquired with a grin.

  `No, thanks !’ No wonder Tessa refused. For once Jo felt some sympathy for her rival, and then wondered what had

  made her think of the other girl as that. Rivalry meant competition, and Jo had no intention of competing for Dan or any other man. Her dignity rose at the thought of regarding him—any man—as a prize to be won.

  `We can reach the beach by the creek path.’ She collected their own macs and slipped out of the side door, half running on to the soft grass, and down the slope where the daffodils grew so that she should not bump into Tessa and Dan. She slowed down as soon as her feet found the path beside the creek. It had become a favourite walk with her since they came to stay at Penderick House, the quiet green banks providing a haven of peace to her storm-battered spirit, that came to St Mendoc to find rest, and found Dan instead. And a whirlwind of emotion that caught her in its vortex, a helpless victim without power or will to free herself. Dan stood calmly at the eye of the storm, untouched by its fury,
remaining aloof and as indifferent to her as he seemed to be to anything except his boat, she thought angrily.

  `Let’s look for crabs as well.’ Chris skipped along by her side in a manner that did her heart good. He was no longer conscious of every step he took because walking no longer hurt.

  `That’s a good idea.’ Jo welcomed his suggestion, since the tide was well out and the rock pools would be a good distance away from the foot of the cliffs. Now her eyes had been opened to the danger, she could see a dozen places where small rock slides had occurred along the shore.

  `There’s a crab in this one, but he’s too small.’ Chris slid off the upthrust of rocks back on to the sand, and cast around for another pool.

  `Don’t go near the foot of the cliffs,’ Jo warned.

  `Don’t worry, I won’t,’ her brother retorted. The loss of their cottage and the pitiful evidence of its one-time garden in crumbs on the beach had frightened the child into

  caution as well. ‘There’s a bigger pool down by the breakwater. Perhaps it’ll be warm enough to paddle.’ He set off, and Jo stopped by the rock pool he had just deserted, inquisitive to see the crab that was too small. With Chris’s departure the silence on the beach became absolute, except for a rhythmic squeaking sound that probably came from an insecure board on the breakwater. She sat down on a piece of the rock top that was worn flat by the action of the tides, and bent over the mirror-like surface of the trapped water. Only another tide would release it, and the tiny marine creatures it contained. The crab was there, and one or two unidentified forms of life that scuttled for shelter as she bent her face close above them. The slight disturbance caused by their flight sent a miniature ripple wavering across the surface, shaking her own reflection momentarily out of recognition, and then the crystal clear pool steadied again and her own winsome loveliness gazed back at her, in company with another, stronger, suntanned face topped by a shock of black hair, and a pair of blue eyes that gazed laughingly straight into her own.