Storms Gather Between Us

by Storms Gather Between Us (retail) (epub)

  She turned in her seat and gave him a long look. Will squirmed, knowing she was thinking he was bottling up his own grief too. And perhaps he was.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll remember you in my prayers. It must be sad to be so alone in the world. I’ve been blessed in having five healthy brothers.’

  ‘I told you, it’s all a long time ago.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I must be getting back to the ship.’

  Bridget’s face flushed. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Kidd, I’ve upset you. I didn’t intend to.’

  Will forced a smile. ‘Not at all. I do need to get back though.’

  They rose from the bench and walked out of the park.

  ‘I’ll take you back a different way.’

  They walked more briskly this time and Bridget pointed out a few places as they went, but there was a strained atmosphere between them. Once they’d crossed Butt Bridge and they could see the Arklow further downstream, she bade him goodbye.

  ‘I enjoyed our walk, Mr Kidd. I hope we’ll get a chance to talk again. And I’m sorry if I offended you with my tactless comments. I will definitely remember you in my prayers.’

  ‘It’s me that should apologise, Miss O’Connor. Sometimes I’m like a bear with a sore head. And I’m not accustomed to the company of a lady, being at sea all the time.’

  She reached for his hand and held it in both her gloved ones for a moment. ‘God bless you, Mr Kidd. And I’ll also say a prayer that that won’t always be the case. You don’t deserve to be lonely.’ She turned and hurried away.

  Will stood on the quayside, watching until Bridget disappeared from view. Was it that obvious? When he’d never even admitted to himself that he felt that way?

  Chapter Fourteen

  They were late docking, and as a result Will was more than an hour late for his rendezvous with Hannah. Was there any point in him turning up now? he asked himself, feeling frustration and disappointment. There had been no way for him to get word to her. What must she think of him? Surely, she wouldn’t still be hanging around waiting for him on a deserted beach on a cold spring morning. But on the off chance that she might be, he raced towards Seaforth, running along underneath the overhead railway – the Dockers’ Umbrella as it was commonly known.

  When he reached Seaforth Sands, the shore stretched in front of him, an empty expanse, with no one in sight, apart from a couple in the far distance throwing sticks for their dog. Disappointed, but with nothing else to do, he kept on walking, hands thrust deep in his pockets, collar turned up against the chill wind. The weather was fine but cold, with a pale sun emerging from heavy clouds. He shivered, suddenly wishing he were back in Australia. Granted, they had their fair share of cold winters up in the Blue Mountains, but the summers were often hot and the air always clear and easy to breathe. Here the atmosphere was choked with the smoke from coal fires, the buildings blackened with it, and the weather often a depressing drizzle.

  His mind wandered back to his conversation with Bridget O’Connor in the park the previous day. All that talk of grief, the look in her eyes as she touched his arm. It wasn’t exactly pity, but more a sense of deep compassion. Maybe she was right, and he was like Mrs O’Connor – in all the years since he’d fled Australia never allowing himself to grieve the losses and sadness he had lived through.

  A flock of seagulls swooped low in front of him, screaming their shrill cries. And in that moment, he brushed off the maudlin feelings and increased the pace of his walking. It was habitual with him – never let the demons get to him, never dwell on the past, never think of what might have been, live only in the moment. And above all, never allow himself the indulgence of self-pity.

  He didn’t see her until he was almost upon her. She was sitting in the lee of one of the dunes, her coat wrapped tightly around her and a beret pulled low on her head. Her gloved hands were clasped around her knees. His heart soared and he wanted to punch the air, but was wary of frightening her again.

  Will walked towards her. ‘Miss Dawson, I am so sorry for my lateness. We had a rough crossing and were delayed docking and then I was held back as there was a spillage in one of the holds and we had to clear it up. I didn’t know what to do to let you know.’

  She smiled at him and her smile lit up her face. ‘I was just about to give up on you, Mr Kidd.’ She began to gather herself together to get up, but Will put a hand out. ‘Don’t get up. I’ll join you. It looks out of the wind here.’ He saw her blush and liked that about her.

  Hannah looked uncertain for a moment, then she smoothed the sand beside her. ‘I don’t think my father would be too happy about me sitting amidst the dunes with a young man but what the eye doesn’t see…’

  Will grinned at her and settled himself down beside her. Suddenly nervous, he fumbled in his pocket for his tobacco and began to roll a cigarette. ‘Do you mind?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Tell me about your life, Miss Dawson. Your family? Your work?’

  Hannah gave a little laugh. ‘There’s not much to tell and what there is isn’t very interesting. I lead a very dull life. I live with my mother, who is the younger sister of Aunt Elizabeth, my father and my sister, Judith. We used to live in a town to the north of Liverpool in a rather grand house, but things became hard – the family business hasn’t flourished – so we moved to a little house close to the docks several years ago.’ She looked up at him, her eyes darting over his face and then dropping down.

  She was so like Elizabeth, that same shade of brown hair, the flawless bright skin you wanted to touch, the same big beautiful eyes. And yet there was a difference. Will tried to put his finger on what it was and then concluded that Hannah was her own person – the expression in those eyes was unique to her, the tone of her voice, the rise and fall of it, the way she kept pushing her hair out of her eyes where the wind blew it, the soft swell of her lips, the shape of her nose, slightly longer than Elizabeth’s. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every time he tried to look away, he was drawn back to her as if an invisible thread was tugging at him, tying him to her. He wished they could stay here forever, sitting side by side in the sand, with him listening while she told him the bare facts of her life and her work in her father’s company.

  ‘What’s your first name?’ he asked. ‘Please call me Will.’

  She hesitated just a moment then said quietly, ‘Hannah. My name is Hannah.’

  He repeated the name twice. ‘It suits you. Unusual.’

  ‘It’s from the Bible. My father lives his life by the Bible. It’s the only book he allows in the house.’

  Will jerked his head in surprise. ‘Really? Are you religious too?’

  Hannah hesitated. ‘No, but I’d never let him know that. I know enough of the Bible myself that it’s easy enough to convince him that I believe it as strongly as he does.’

  ‘And don’t you?’

  She waited a few moments before answering as though weighing up how to respond. ‘No. I believe in God. In Jesus, and the good things he did and said. But my father appears to be governed more by the God of the Old Testament, the God of anger and vengeance.’ She stared out towards the grey waters of the Mersey. ‘He belongs to a group of men who interpret the words of the scriptures literally in every possible sense.’

  ‘I know very little about the Bible, but isn’t that the whole point of it? If you believe it, don’t you have to go along with it all?’

  Hannah smiled at him. ‘Stoning people to death, condoning slavery, committing human sacrifices? As soon as I read the passage about Abraham being ordered by God to sacrifice his only son, and then going along with it, I started to have doubts about a lot of things. I mean, how can it possibly be a good thing for God to demand that someone do such a terrible thing? So pointless. So cruel.’

  ‘And did he? Did Abraham kill his son?’

  ‘No.’ She sighed and smiled at him. ‘God sent an angel to step in just in time and let him off the hook – but that doesn’t make it all right,
does it? After he’d already got him trussed up and stuck him on top of a pile of wood ready to burn, and had his knife at his neck. Only then did the angel appear and tell him he didn’t have to do it. What a cruel, nasty joke to play on someone! What kind of relationship could Abraham and poor old Isaac possibly have had after that? How could Isaac ever begin to trust his father again? How could he look him in the eye? He’d have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, terrified his dad was going to creep up behind him, stick a knife in him and turn him into a burnt offering. And even if he didn’t – just knowing his father would be prepared to kill him on a whim of God’s. And what kind of God would demand such a pointless killing – never mind a father killing his only son? It would have been murder! Of his own son. His only son.’

  She was breathless and indignant in telling him all this and Will looked at her with new eyes. He liked her passion, her spiritedness.

  ‘And your father believes this to be right? How come?’

  She heaved a big sigh. ‘He justifies it by saying that it was a test of Abraham’s love of God. Because God sent the angel in time to save Isaac that made it all right.’ She thumped a fist into the sand. ‘But it wasn’t all right. Was it? Not if Abraham was actually ready to murder him.’

  ‘So, what about the Hannah in the Bible? Did her father try to sacrifice her too? Why did your father choose that name?’

  She turned her head and stared right at him. Will felt his insides turn to jelly and an unexpected desire caught him by surprise.

  ‘Hannah was the childless first wife of a man who wanted children so he took another wife and had lots of children with her. Poor Hannah remained barren – what a horrible word that is. She prayed to God and promised that if he gave her a son she would give her son back to God.’

  ‘Like Abraham?’

  ‘Not that bad. After years of being taunted by the second wife, she had a son at last and handed him over to serve God – I imagine that means he became a priest – and then she had lots of other children as a reward and was barren no longer.’ She scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through her fingers.

  Will imagined those fingers laced through his. What was happening to him? He forced himself to return to Biblical Hannah. ‘It seems odd for a man to name his child after a childless woman, but I do know that Hannah is a beautiful name.’

  She looked at him with that same direct look that felt as though she was looking straight into his soul. Another clutch of desire was tempered by an overwhelming feeling of tenderness towards her. Instinctively, he reached for her hand. Then, before he knew what was happening, he had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her. It was not premeditated or planned. It just happened. At first her mouth responded and he drew her closer. Then, as if she had been stung by a bee, she pulled herself away from him and he watched, dumbstruck, as she scrambled to her feet and started to stumble up the sand towards the promenade at the top. Will grabbed at her hand and held her back. Her eyes were frightened, desperate even. ‘Please, let me go.’

  Will dropped his hold. ‘I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that. Don’t go away! I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me. I promise I won’t try to do it again.’

  Her slight hesitation was all he needed. He clambered after her, feeling the sand sliding away under his feet as he tried to get purchase and move up the slope.

  She waited at the top until he reached her. ‘I shouldn’t have let you do that,’ she said. ‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have put myself in that position.’

  Suddenly bold, he said, ‘Why not? You’re not courting anyone are you?’

  Her face flushed. ‘No.’

  ‘Then what’s wrong?’ He took a big gulp of air, deciding that honesty was the best policy. ‘Look, Hannah, I couldn’t help it. I really like you. I know we barely know each other but I feel as though I’ve always known you. You remind me so much of your aunt and it feels…’ His voice trailed away.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look, let’s go for a walk. I promise I won’t touch you, but I need to explain.’

  Hannah had a dubious expression on her face, but she nodded. ’Just as far as Blundellsands then I have to head back. Father expects me at work in a couple of hours.’

  They walked without speaking for a few minutes, while Will searched for the right words to say. At last he said, ‘I had a teenage crush on your aunt.’

  ‘A crush?’ Hannah’s eyes widened, and the hint of a smile played around her lips.

  ‘Yes. Even though she was nearly fifteen years older than me.’ He coughed and then decided there was no point beating about the bush. ‘She was much younger than my father and she and I got on really well. I thought she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. I was only a kid and she seemed like an angel to me, appearing from nowhere. She was far too good for my father and I was angry that an old misery like him should be married to her. I used to lie awake thinking about her all the time. I suppose it was puppy love, but I thought it was deadly serious.’ He paused, embarrassed. ‘In fact, until recently, I still believed I was in love with her.’

  Hannah was staring at him wide-eyed. ‘Did she know?’

  ‘She probably guessed. In the end I told her how I felt. I was nineteen by then and convinced it was love.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She didn’t laugh at me. Thinking back now I’m amazed that she didn’t – but I’m grateful too. That’s what Lizbeth is like – always kind and caring. She let me down gently and told me that one day I would meet someone else and realise that what I’d felt for her was just a crush.’

  Hannah was watching his face intently as they walked, her own eyes wide.

  ‘I was angry with her. Angry with everything. Angry with life, with the whole injustice of everything.’ He looked at her, trying to decide how much to tell her, then realised it would have to be everything. ‘My father was in prison, condemned to death for shooting my brother dead.’

  He heard her draw in breath, shocked.

  ‘The poor old devil was only defending Lizbeth. My brother had attacked her – he’d torn her blouse open – then when I tried to stop him, he stabbed me. I passed out, but before Nat could do anything to Lizbeth, Pa came along and shot him dead. In the back.’

  ‘But surely that wasn’t enough for the death sentence? Since he was defending my aunt, and your brother had already stabbed you, wouldn’t that have counted in his favour?’

  Will winced. The memory was painful. ‘Trouble was, Pa admitted he was glad Nat was dead. He told the doc who came to patch me up that he should have shot him long before. Then when Hattie–’

  ‘Hattie?’

  ‘Harriet, my sister. She was married to my pal, Michael…’ His voice trailed away. He realised he’d said too much, but there was no going back now. ‘What I didn’t find out ’til later was that Elizabeth and Michael Winterbourne were in love. They’d met on the ship coming out to Australia and then got separated. Your grandfather had died just a few days before Lizbeth landed in Sydney and she was desperate. No money. No family. I still don’t fully understand why, but she married my old man.’

  ‘Why did she marry him if she was in love with this Michael person?’

  ‘Beats me. I suppose she was desperate and thought she’d never see Michael again. But then, after she’d married Pa, Michael turned up in her life again – working for my old man. I’ve no idea what went on between them, but he ended up getting hitched to our Hattie. God knows why, as it was obvious they felt nothing for each other – maybe he did it to get back at Lizbeth for marrying Pa.’ He paused a moment, checking to see if she was following his convoluted tale. He saw she was frowning but appeared to be listening closely. ‘I know Hattie only married Michael to get away from the Falls – that was the town we lived in – and she knew the old man would settle some cash on her once she married.’ He kicked at a heap of seaweed. ‘It was an unhappy marriage. Hat went off the rails. Drugs and drin
k. She was always a wild child. After Pa was arrested, she turned up in court and might as well have tied the noose round his neck.’

  ‘How? What on earth did she do?’

  ‘I think she thought she’d be helping him by implicating Lizbeth. She always hated her. Jealous, I suppose. Resented her for taking Ma’s place. She and Ma were always close. Hattie hated the idea of Pa marrying again – specially someone young and beautiful like Elizabeth.’

  He rolled a cigarette as they walked along, then cupped his hand round a match and lit the roll-up, drawing the smoke into his lungs slowly. ‘She told the whole court that Nat had found out that Lizbeth and Michael were lovers, and the Prosecution twisted it to make out that Pa killed Nat to stop him going round telling lies about Lizbeth having an affair with her husband’s right-hand man. The old man couldn’t bear to think that she and Michael were actually in love. Michael was the manager of Pa’s coalmine, you see, and Pa thought the world of him. Anyway, it was enough, along with what the doc said, to give the jury a motive – so he went down for it.’

  ‘He was executed?’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  ‘Hanged by the neck until dead.’ Will’s voice betrayed his sudden rush of emotion. ‘I didn’t stick around for it. Didn’t even visit the poor devil in jail. I was too cowardly to face him.’ He turned to look at her. ‘So that’s the kind of man I am, Hannah.’

  He expected her to walk away, sure that after this she’d want no more to do with him, but instead she reached her arms up and clasped them around his neck, laying her head against his chest. He could tell his heart was thumping and knew that she must be able to hear it too. His arms went up around her back, holding her tightly against him. For what seemed to Will an eternity, but could only have been a few moments, they stood like that, motionless, holding each other, as above them the seagulls screamed and the waves lapped at the shore.

  When they eventually broke apart, Will knew things were different now. He had experienced an intensity of feeling, a strange mixture of desire and a wish to protect her, maybe even from himself. Hannah was vulnerable, inexperienced, innocent, yet he longed to kiss her again, to hold her, to make love to her. He took her hand in his. The feel of her skin against his own made even this small act one of intense intimacy. They continued their walk along the sands.