High Tide (23 page)

28

The thing with October, which people always forgot when it was being bright and sunny and vivacious, was that it could be moody. There could be a sudden swing, and there you were, with pendulous clouds and choppy seas and a nasty swell and a wind that could not be misconstrued as an autumn breeze, but a force in itself, ruthless and relentless.

Which was exactly what happened that afternoon, at about three o’clock.

‘We need to get that boat in,’ said Nathan’s grandad, eyeing the sky and the water with concern. ‘I don’t like the look of that sky. We’ll be in trouble at high tide if the rain starts.’

Nathan looked up at the sky. He was used to judging the conditions, but his grandfather knew the weather better than anyone; better than any barometer or forecaster. If he said the boat needed to come in, then it did. After all, they hadn’t spent all that time restoring her only to let her be damaged in a storm. And it did look ominous. Tinged with green, which was never good.

‘Let’s take the trailer down the harbour then,’ he agreed. ‘It’s about time I took her out the water.’ The
Moonbeam
would go into one of their sheds for safekeeping over the winter, until the picnics started up again in springtime. She wasn’t really built for winter expeditions.

The two of them went out into the yard and hooked up the trailer to Daniel’s ancient Land Rover Defender just as the rain began. They rattled down the track from the cottage to the main road and along the high street to the slipway.

‘Ah, it’s going to be wet rain, this is,’ said Daniel, and by the time they got to the slipway they couldn’t see out of the window.

Nathan jumped out and ran along the pontoon to their mooring. By now the rain had started in earnest. It wasn’t taking any prisoners – and with it was a gale and a half that was whipping up the waves.

By the time he started up the engine of the
Moonbeam
, he could barely see across the water. The sky seemed to meet the sea in one big watery blur the colour of slurry. The town disappeared behind the deluge. He steered his way between the other boats that were swaying up and down, the waves slapping their sides. The
Moonbeam
wasn’t made for choppy waters, and it was all he could do to keep her on course as the wind suddenly changed and came from the south.

With it came a flash of lightning, and a tremendous crash of thunder. The storm was right overhead. He could see the waves throwing themselves right over the pontoon, and over the walls of the decks that backed the buildings along the harbour. Anyone having a crafty cigarette outside would find themselves with wet shoes, he thought.

He could see his grandad waiting at the foot of the slipway. He steered towards him, and as he did, he looked to the left, to Pennfleet House. He could see Vanessa outside on the terrace that overlooked the water. She was looking for something – he thought he could hear her cry out through the wind and the rain, but he couldn’t be sure.

He made it to the slipway, and jumped into the shallows where his grandad was waiting with ropes to pull the boat out of the water and onto the trailer. It was tough work for two people, made worse by poor visibility and the fact they could barely hear each other. But eventually the
Moonbeam
was made safe.

‘Let’s get her back, then,’ said Daniel.

Nathan looked back to Pennfleet House. He could still see Vanessa. She must be soaked to the skin. What was the matter? What was she looking for?

Daniel saw him looking.

‘Go on then,’ he said. ‘Go and see what’s going off. But don’t come crying to me when it all goes pear-shaped.’

Nathan touched his grandad on the shoulder in appreciation. Behind him he heard the throaty grumble of the Land Rover start up as he ran down alongside Pennfleet House and jumped up over the wall onto the terrace.

Vanessa was standing looking out over the water, her hands protecting her face from the rain, shouting. Her blonde hair was plastered to her head, and her clothes were drenched.

He came up behind and touched her arm. She whipped round and he could see the distress on her face. He couldn’t tell if she was crying because she was so wet.

‘What is it?’

‘My cat. Frank Cooper. He was on the wall. There was a big wave.’ She couldn’t tell him any more. She was too upset.

‘Did he go in?’

She nodded. He took her hand and they stood looking together into the mighty swell of the waves, a churning soup of grey-green that was hurling itself indiscriminately around the harbour.

Vanessa put her face in her hands. Poor Frank Cooper. She couldn’t bear it.

Nathan held her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so so sorry.’

‘It’s OK.’ She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. ‘It’s my fault. I should have got him in ages ago, before the rain started. But I didn’t realise.’

‘How could you have? Don’t blame yourself.’

The rain was lashing down on them. Another wave came over the wall, and he pulled her out of the way.

‘You should go inside,’ he said.

They stood staring at each other as the rain poured down on them, buckets and buckets of it. There was another huge flash of lightning, and it lit up their faces. Then the thunder.

‘You’re going to catch your death,’ Nathan said eventually.

‘Come in and get dry,’ she said.

They hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. Nathan tried to wipe the water from his eyes.

‘You know what’ll happen if I come in?’ he said.

‘Yes.’ She bit her lip.

‘What about your mother?’

‘She’s gone back up to London.’

‘So she’s not here?’

Vanessa smiled. ‘No.’

Nathan nodded. ‘That’s good, then.’

She gave him the guest bathroom, and a pile of fluffy white towels.

She had the hottest shower she could stand in her own room, then pulled on a big jumper and leggings and went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. She stood at the back door to see if Frank Cooper had by some miracle appeared, but he hadn’t. She couldn’t think about him, his dear little ginger body being tossed about on the waves.

The milk came to the boil. She was pouring it carefully into two mugs when Nathan came into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. She put the pan down with a bang.

‘Hot chocolate?’ she asked, but her voice came out as a whisper. She handed him a mug.

They sipped slowly, standing by the island.

‘Doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop,’ she said.

‘No,’ he said, and he was staring at her, and he put his cup down, still holding his towel in place, then put his spare hand behind her head and pulled her to him, and she tasted chocolate and promise and moments later his towel fell to the floor.

Alexa was tempted to cancel her drink with Daisy’s dad when she saw the rain. It was what her mum would have called stair-rods, and she would be wet through in seconds. But she told herself not to be such a wuss. This would be the first time she’d been out on her own since they got to Pennfleet. And Oscar insisted.

‘It would be really rude to cancel, Mum.’

He was looking after the little ones for her. He was a good boy, Oscar. So Alexa dug out the giant cagoule she had bought when they moved here, and put it on over the black dress with the white collar she had chosen to wear. She had been going to wear ballet flats but they wouldn’t last two minutes, so she put on her trusty biker boots. Then she found an umbrella.

The wind nearly blew her all the way to the Townhouse by the Sea, where they were supposed to meet. She dried herself off as best she could in the ladies’, and reapplied her eyeliner. She wanted to look as respectable as she could. Oscar was smitten with Daisy, and she didn’t want any trouble. She’d had enough of that in her life.

She settled herself into a window seat, and watched the rain lash the window. There was something very comforting about being tucked up inside while the elements did their thing outside. And when the waitress came to take her order, she asked for a glass of Prosecco. She hadn’t had time to celebrate her commission yet. It was the first chance she’d had to really think about it.

She was just toasting herself with the bubbles when the man she assumed was Daisy’s dad walked in and looked around. She raised a tentative hand to identify herself, and as he took off his hat, she recognised him straight away.

And he her.

‘Skinny soy latte, chocolate brownie,’ he grinned, pointing at her.

She laughed, and stood up.

‘This is mad. Daisy said you had a café,’ she told him, ‘but I didn’t realise it was yours. I’m Alexa.’

‘Sam.’

For some reason, it felt right to kiss him on the cheek, even though they had only just met.

‘I got myself a glass of Prosecco,’ said Alexa.

‘Sounds like a great idea,’ replied Sam, who liked the fact she’d just gone ahead and got what she wanted. He ordered one for himself from the waitress, and sat down in the window seat next to her.

‘So Oscar said you wanted to meet me? I know you’re probably worried, because you’ve heard things. About my ex. But the thing is …’ she was gabbling, because it was always embarrassing talking about it, ‘yes, he’s in prison, but it was a sort of fraud thing to do with out-of-date drugs he was selling on. Not that that excuses it, of course, but I didn’t want you to think that he was some sort of crack baron and that Oscar came from a dodgy family—’

‘Hey hey hey hey shush a minute,’ said Sam. ‘What did you say?’

‘Um – which bit?’

‘About Oscar saying you wanted to meet me?’

‘Yes. That’s what he said. And he told me to meet you here.’

‘But that’s what Daisy said.’

‘Sorry?’ Alexa looked puzzled.

‘Daisy said you wanted to meet me.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I mean, not that it isn’t lovely to meet you, of course. But—’

Sam started to laugh. ‘Little buggers.’

‘What?’ She still hadn’t cottoned on.

‘I think we’ve been set up. By our kids.’

She thought about it for a moment, and then smiled. ‘Oh my God.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘This is so embarrassing.’

‘What the hell,’ said Sam. ‘We might as well enjoy ourselves.’

The waitress brought him his Prosecco. He raised his glass to hers.

‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

‘It’s very nice to meet you, too.’

And she smiled again, and he noticed the gap between her front teeth, which was kind of cute. And he thought about Louise, and he thought she would probably be laughing her head off too, at the scenario, and might very well be cheering him on. He hoped so.

‘So, skinny soy latte,’ he said to her, ‘what is it you actually do?’

Two hours later, they hadn’t stopped talking. They discovered so many things they had in common – music, favourite recipes, artists, books. Places they wanted to go.

The rain was still lashing down.

‘Listen,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll get soaked again if we go home now. Shall I see if they’ve got a table? Shall we have supper?’

Alexa panicked for a moment, because a meal here wasn’t going to be cheap, but then she remembered her commission and decided that she deserved dinner out with a lovely man.

‘That,’ she said, ‘is a totally brilliant idea.’

Nathan was still there when Vanessa woke in the morning.

The first thing she saw was his lean, toned back with the mermaid tattoo on the right shoulder. She put out a finger and traced the ink. His skin was warm and like velvet. She swallowed. She couldn’t even begin to think about the night before.

‘That tickles,’ he told her, and she could hear laughter in his voice.

‘I’ll stop then,’ she said.

‘No, don’t.’

Then she thought, shit, I need to make myself look presentable before he turns round and sees the horrible truth. ‘I’m going to make us tea,’ she whispered in his ear, and scampered into the bathroom.

In the mirror, she held up her hands and gave a silent scream of joy, then did a little dance, then set to making herself look as if she had just woken up looking utterly ravishing. Teeth, moisturiser, comb through hair then ruffle, a smidge of mascara, a slick of lip-gloss. A squirt of perfume.

She looked in the mirror. And was surprised to realise she looked about ten years younger.

In the kitchen, she looked outside to see if Frank Cooper had reappeared, but he hadn’t. The harbour was as calm as anything, the day bright with just a light breeze. It was as if the storm had never happened.

She took up a tray with two mugs of tea into the bedroom. Nathan was lying on his back, his arms hooked around his head, smiling at her.

‘We should talk,’ she said, sitting on the bed next to him.

‘Oh, really?’ he said. ‘Must we?’

She handed him a mug of tea, and he sat up.

‘Look, I think you’re totally amazing. But I’ve just lost my husband. I’m kind of all over the place. And I’m old enough to be your mother. Almost. You belong with someone your own age. If we got together, one of us would get hurt. Probably both of us. It would be … awkward. It’s a lovely idea. In theory. But on balance …’

She trailed off. Nathan was staring at her. ‘On balance what?’ he asked, putting his tea down on the bedside table. Then he gave her the laziest, sexiest smile, put out a finger and touched the hollow at the base of her neck, by her collarbone. She shivered. Swallowed.

‘On balance?’ he repeated, drawing a tiny circle with the tip of his finger.

She couldn’t speak.

‘On balance?’

‘Oh fuck it,’ she said, reaching out an arm. She hooked it round his neck and pulled him towards her. ‘If it all ends in tears, don’t come crying to me.’

That’s just what his grandad had said. But he didn’t think there would be any.

‘We’re going to have a lot of fun before the tears start.’

He was kissing her neck. Vanessa was squirming with the thrill of it.

He put his other hand up and held her head in his hands. Stared into her eyes. ‘You’re beautiful.’

She could feel herself blushing. ‘I bet you say that to all the cougars.’