He strode across the cobbles. A new shop had been set up in his absence, a neat, modern place with a window display lit up by bright fairy lights and filled with sugar mice. Tomorrow he’d come back to buy Christmas presents, since he brought none with him, but now it was time to go home, time to surprise his family, to explain about Imogen and the cancelled wedding.
He stepped back into the full force of the wind, striding along the harbour to the main town. Here the buildings caught the worst of the gusts and he moved faster. A few shops were still open, filling the air with the scent of fresh bread and spicy mince pies, making his stomach rumble. A large fir tree dotted with white lights stood in the central town square surrounded by a band who clutched brass instruments and rattled collection buckets, sleet beading on their blue uniforms. Two younger members grinned at him and he smiled back, dropping a few coins into their pot.
“I know you,” a teenager said. “Your photo’s on the hall of the sailing club, you’re Daniel Edwards.”
Daniel smiled politely, used to being recognised. At first, caught up in the excitement of TV interviews and magazine requests, he enjoyed it, accepting it as his due. The new talent in sailing, the man who broke a world record and beat his competitors so soundly there were rumours of foul play. He knew the protestors would find nothing. He’d won clean and fair, sailing fast and reckless, but tightly within the rules. Desperation had taken hold of him, that if he could just get a gold medal, then the events of two years ago were justified, that there was a reason for the terrible accident that destroyed Carly Roberts’ own sailing career.
After the award ceremony, he’d checked his mobile continually for a text from her or a mention from a mutual friend that she sent her congratulations. Of course, there had been nothing. At the time he’d been angry — everyone else thought he was marvellous, so why didn’t she? Then he realised that he’d achieved their mutual dream alone. Carly would never stand on the podium beside him as they had wanted. Carly was permanently disabled.
Glancing at the boy, he noticed the young eyes, gleaming with life and excitement and envied him the bright expression. When he looked in the mirror, he saw a grim face, older than its years.
“Are you here for the lifeboat appeal?” the lad said.
Daniel looked at the bucket, it had a picture of a bright orange boat racing through high waves, and swallowing, he swayed slightly on his feet, even after this length of time, the sight brought a cold sweat to his forehead. He moistened his lips, wincing as the cold wind chapped them.
“I didn’t know about the appeal,” he said.
“There’s a Winter Gala to be held in the harbour, our old boat won’t last ‘til spring and we need millions for a new one.”
“Millions?” He stared at the few coins in the bottom of the bucket. Haven Bay was a small town, it was unlikely they could raise so much. “I’d better give you a bit more then.” Taking out his wallet, he dropped five twenty pound notes in and the boy’s mouth dropped open.
“Thank you, sir!”
Daniel nodded, tucking his wallet back into his coat; the donation hadn’t made him feel good, it had been too much like paying blood money. Restless now, he strode faster through the streets. He was almost home and once there, surrounded by his family, he would feel better.
Further up the road, a girl was struggling to lift two shopping bags from a car boot, snowflakes drifting in the breeze around her. He paused; in Haven Bay you didn’t walk past a neighbour in need.
“Can I take those out for you?” he said.
She looked up and he stared into a pair of familiar green eyes.
“Daniel? What are you doing here?” she said.
His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t speak. Carly looked different, her chestnut brown hair was now a bright, artificial red that glowed under the yellow light.
“I came back for Christmas,” he said, aware that he gawped at her like a sightseer.
“Was it your boat I saw coming into the harbour?”
“I expect so.” He reached for her carrier bags, but she swung them away as if his touch would contaminate them.
“Then you’re a fool. A fool who never learns.”
Daniel dropped his hand and set his shoulders straight. “Carly,” he said.
“No, stay away from me.” She reached for a cane and his stomach clenched; in his dreams she still ran.
“At least let me carry those, you can’t manage alone.”
“How do you think I’ve managed for the last two years? Go away, Daniel, I never want to see you again.”
Clutching the bags in one hand, she limped away, heading toward a block of flats. Was that where she lived now? He knew nothing about her life anymore. His family never mentioned her, they didn’t want to upset him, send him back into the depression that had crippled him.
Sighing, he thrust his hands into his pockets. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back, but Christmas was a sad time to be alone. The last two he’d spent with Imogen, watching her hang up expensive silver balls and organise parties while they spoke politely and kindly to each other, as if fearing that the unleashing of their emotions would result in harder questions needing to be answered.
Staring at Carly’s car in front of him, he stepped forward to touch the warm metalwork, then stooped to peer in the window. Who cared if anyone saw him? The desire to learn about her life, about the person she had become, was too strong. The gear stick inside the vehicle belonged to an automatic — with her leg she probably couldn’t drive a manual — and the dashboard was as tidy as her dinghy used to be. A handful of spare coins, a mobile phone charger, and a packet of prescription painkillers stood beside a bottle of water. How often did she need those tablets?
In his mind, her scream echoed, and he saw again the great gaping wound on her leg, pouring blood. He hadn’t thought she would survive the journey in the lifeboat to the shore, and from the worried expression of the crew, he knew they doubted it too. Why had he insisted they sail that day?
Daniel knocked at the front door, before reaching for his key. It was always awkward returning home as an adult; did you walk straight in, or wait to be invited? Stepping into the hall, he breathed in the scent of cooking mince pies and smiled. Neither he nor Imogen cooked much and certainly neither of them ever baked; the rich, sweet smell of pastry immediately took him back to his childhood.
“Daniel!” His mother ran down and threw her arms around him. “What a wonderful surprise! Where’s Imogen? I thought you were going abroad for Christmas.”
“I’ll explain later, things have changed a bit. Where’s Dad?”
“Said he was going for a pint at the sailing club, but I suspect he’s gone to buy my Christmas present. I’ll make a bed up; go into the lounge, your sister’s in there.”
Daniel eased his rucksack off his shoulders, flexed his back, then opened the sitting room door. Sitting cross-legged on the rug beside a tree glowing with tiny white lights his sister, Ali, looked like the excited little girl he remembered, waiting for Santa at Christmas, until she sat up straighter and he saw the huge swelling under her knitted dress. Her grey eyes were lively, reminding him he should smile more. Compared to her cheerful face, his expression in the mirror above the fireplace looked grim.
“Daniel, I thought I heard your voice!” she said and began to heave herself up.
“Hi, Ali.” He kissed her cheek. “Don’t stand up, mum would never forgive me if your waters broke all over the carpet.”
She laughed, sitting back down. “I’m surprised you know about things like that, obsessive sportsman that you are.”
“Even sailors watch TV. How are you feeling?”
“All right, just want it over with now. I’m afraid the baby’s going to decide to come when Steve’s in the middle of the Atlantic.”
“I thought he was coming off the fishing boats?” Daniel sank onto the sofa.
Ali shrugged. “There’s no work, and with me going on maternity leave, we can’t take the risk of him being unemployed. I hate it when he’s out with the fleet, one of the trawlers lost a man last week.”
“Steve’s an experienced and careful fisherman.”
“Yes, but you know what the ocean can be like.” With her mouth set, she didn’t resemble a gleeful child anymore, but looked like his mother did when the boats were late back into harbour.
“It’s not too bad out there today,” he said, standing up to draw the curtains so she couldn’t see the trees bent double.
“Where’s Imogen?”
“With her family, we’ve called off the wedding.”
“What?”
“It’s cancelled, we’ve split up.”
“Oh.” She stared at him, wide eyed. “I’m sorry, you must be so upset. Was it her or you?”
“Technically her, but she was right. It was a relief when she admitted it wasn’t working, I knew too, but didn’t want to upset her.”
“You couldn’t have married her then, it would have ended up even worse in the long run.”
“I know, I just couldn’t face the guilt of cancelling the wedding, it was a mistake to ask her in the first place, I mistook fondness for love.”
“I think you just wanted to get married to prove to yourself you’d moved on. I was never sure about Imogen; nice girl, but there was no connection between you.”
Daniel turned to look at her. For years it had been him advising Ali, but his sister was grown up now, a wife and soon to be a mother. He stretched and held his hands, the fingers still numb, toward the gas fire.
“I rushed into it, certainly. Anyway … ” He yawned. “How is everyone here?”
“Fine, busy with the Winter Gala, I’ve baked some cakes for it.”
“I remember a Summer Gala.”
“It’s similar, just colder, we need funds to replace the lifeboat, it’s getting old and worn now. Carly’s organising it.”
His head flicked back. “She didn’t used to be into fundraising.”
“She does a lot of things like that now, I think it’s to keep busy. The gift shop in the harbour belongs to her too, it sells some great stuff.”
“I can’t imagine her as a shop keeper.”
Ali’s eyes narrowed. “Her training bursary was cancelled when she had to drop out of the sailing team. She left school with no qualifications so there wasn’t much else she could do except set up her own business. We raised some money for her after the accident, which she used to pay for stock and rent; since then, she’s done really well.”
“Do you see much of her now?”
“No, I drop into the shop sometimes. We’re friendly, but it’s not like it used to be. It’s a shame; I miss her, but it got too awkward.”
Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he closed his eyes. “I hadn’t thought about money, about how she was supporting herself.”
“Well, she hasn’t got any family has she? Except for her waste-of-space brother, although he’s improved recently, her mother scarpered shortly after the accident, didn’t want the hassle of looking after her.”
“Her mother was never interested, Carly used to look after Liam.” He lay back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry.” Ali rose and sat beside him. “I shouldn’t have talked about it, it sounds like you’ve had a hard time lately. Mum said you hadn’t qualified for the Nationals this year because your boat developed a fault during the time trials.”
“She’s being kind, it wasn’t the boat, it was me.”
“No one wins everything, you’ve got two gold medals, that’s enough.”
“Not if it’s your career it isn’t, medals don’t make much money unless you sell them.”
“You can’t sell them! You put so much work into winning them. You probably just need a break, you’ve been working too hard.”
Daniel looked at her, it wasn’t fair to burden her with his problems, she had enough worries of her own at the moment. Besides, it was impossible to explain that he’d lost all interest in racing and his medals lay at home stuffed into a drawer. Sighing, he closed his eyes, soon he’d be joining Carly in finding alternative employment; he already had one written warning from his coach about his lack of effort.
“What’s the matter Daniel?” Ali said. “You look so depressed.”
He glanced down at her bump. “I’m fine, tired, it’s been a long season. Now, what names are you thinking about for that little one?”
As she talked, he stared up at the Christmas tree lights, remembering the anger in Carly’s eyes when he spoke to her. It seemed two years hadn’t been long enough for her to forgive him, after all.
• • •
Carly tapped a pen on the table, wishing she’d borrowed a loud hailer from the lifeboat station. Did all committee meetings end up in arguments? They’d agreed months ago to hold a Winter Gala, why was it all such a problem now? The noise from the sailing club bar didn’t help, it was nice of them to offer her the free use of the function room for fundraising meetings, but she might have to start looking for somewhere else.
A loud crash echoed through the door, followed by cheering — the second tray of glasses smashed tonight, she suspected. Sighing, she checked her watch, it had been a long day in the shop with people buying last-minute Christmas gifts. Would she get any presents this year? It would be depressing not to have a single thing to open, too much like her childhood.
Perhaps she should try again to meet someone, but since Daniel, there’d been no one she wanted. And what about him? Back for Christmas, but without his fiancée by the look of it. Were they having a last celebration with their own families before they set up home together? She shook her head slightly, it wasn’t an image she wanted to picture. Rapping her knuckles hard on the table, she cleared her throat.
“Are we all sorted then?” she said.
“There’s too much to arrange, we haven’t enough time,” Jessie said, holding her hands palm upwards.
“We hold a Summer Gala every year, it’s not that difficult to change the ice-cream kiosks into hot chestnut sellers and lemonade stalls to hot chocolate. And there isn’t much left to organise, the sailing boats have all got sponsorship from local businesses, the correct authorities have been informed, we’ve got a website set up and posters printed. It’s too late to back out now, we’d be laughed at.”
“People are going to laugh anyway,” Duncan said. “We’ll be lucky to cover our costs.”