Sunday's Child (13 page)

“Allow me.” Cal bent and retrieved the flour. “Here you go.” He grinned. “Though I don't know where you'd like it, and I'm too much of a gentleman to tell you where to put it.”

She smirked, trying to hide the reaction seeing him caused to surge through her. “Thank you. You must be my hero and knight in shining armor. Always there when I need you.”

He pretended to tip his hat, color touching his cheeks, making him look vulnerable. “That's me. But I really don't like being called a hero.”

She tucked the flour back into her sling. “Did they tease you a lot over the newspaper article?”

“Yeah, and it'll be worse when the new one comes out.”

“New one?”

“Tom had a press photographer take photos yesterday in between shouts whilst a journalist did a new in-depth interview on what it's like to be part of the lifeboat crew. Tom wants me to be the new face of the lifeboat station here.”

“Mr. RNLI?” She chuckled. “Sounds fun.”

“Oh, please, I had enough of that yesterday. He wants the pictures put all over the base internet sites as well. Where are you headed?”

She nodded. “Not far, just going to the shop. I figured I'd help Aunt Laurie for a bit. I can only sit at home for so long. I picked up a few bits that I know she needed on the way.”

“Then let me carry your bag for you. I'm headed that way myself.”

“Thank you. And speaking of yesterday?”

Cal picked up her shopping bag and started walking with her. “You're not reconsidering dinner, are you?”

Hattie shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to double check that you meant it and it wasn't a heat of the moment or a let's irritate Markus thing.”

Cal grinned. “There was nothing hot about that storm at all.” He winked. “And as far as irritating Markus goes? I honestly don't think that's possible.”

“Have you tried?”

“Not personally, but Carter, my brother has. He made it his mission in life to send flowers to every single girl that Markus ever paid any attention to. It cost him a small fortune.”

“Bet it did. What happened?”

“He ended up falling in love with and marrying the florist. They have two kids now.”

She chuckled as she walked with him, his nearness almost overwhelming. “So you meant the offer of dinner then?”

“Sure did. We can either go out or I can cook.”

“You cook?”

“You know I do. How about beans on toast?” He winked at her. “We'll go out. Do you like fish?”

“Love it.”

“Great. We'll go to the best fish place on the island. I'll pick you up at six. And while we're on the base, I'll give you a tour of it.”

“I'd like that. Thank you.”

Cal smiled and pushed the door to the store open for her. “Hi, Laurie,” he called. “Found Hattie, walked over with her.”

Aunt Laurie smiled. “That was kind of you.”

“Actually he's being modest,” Hattie put in. “He rescued me again.”

Cal shook his head and put the bag behind the counter. “Here's your shopping. Hattie, are you ready for the tour?”

“Sure.” She put the flour on the counter. “Where first?”

He grinned. “This is the shop and this is our shop manager, Laurie Dillon.”

She shot him a withering look. “No, really? I thought this was a bus stop.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Come on.”

She waved to her aunt and followed Cal the short distance from the shop into the lifeboat station.

“This is the Atlantic class boat,
Ray of Hope.
But you got up close and personal with her yesterday. And over here in the other cage we have
Katherine
named in memory of Daniel Froe's wife. He wanted a more lasting tribute to her than a park bench.”

“It's a good idea. Bet they cost a lot of money though.”

“A fair bit yeah. You're talking between upwards of fifty thousand quid for a class D RHIB, like the
Katherine
, to several million for the biggest all–weather ones.”

“Wow.”

He nodded. “It's not just the boat, you see. It's all the onboard equipment and so on as well. And then our uniforms and other gear as well. It's not a cheap thing to keep running by any means.”

“And you rely solely on donations? Do you get paid for saving people?”

“We're purely funded by donations, yes.” Cal nodded, running his hand along the side of the boat. “And, the answer to your other question is no. We don't get paid as such. We get a monetary reward for loss of earnings, but we don't keep it. By a mutual decision, it goes into a crew fund for the kids. Dinner at Christmas, a party, pantomime, Santa, and so on. We're just one huge family here.”

Hattie smiled. “That's a lovely thing to do.”

“Last Christmas we ordered a fish and chip supper for everyone on the twenty eighth of December—crew, partners, and kids. One hundred and fifty portions in total. Originally, the chip shop wasn't going to be open, but they did for us. Let's face it, they'd have been mad to turn down one hundred and fifty orders. I went to collect it, with Tom and Sam. Another chap came in while we were there. He asked what all the food was for and when Tom said it was for here, the guy paid for the lot.”

“That's amazing. Show's how highly people think of you.”

“Most of them. Although contrary to popular belief, the fourth emergency service is
not
the car rescue people.”

Hattie grinned. “It's the coastguard. Even a land lubber like me knows that one.”

“Anyway, the RHIB has a crew of two or three, depending who's around. The other one, my one, has a crew of three or four.”

“Do you have any female crew?” she asked as she followed him down a short passage.

“Three shore crew and a female helm on white watch. Our youngest crew member is seventeen, the oldest is forty-three. We have to retire from the boats at fifty, but usually then become shore crew or do what Tom did and become the LOM or DLA. This is the crew changing area. We all have our own suits, helmets and so on. The boots are integral which saves time when changing. Except when Sam decides he's going to fill them with talc before a training exercise. Normally that's reserved for the newbies, but Sam just likes doing it anyway.”

She laughed. “What happens if the suits get torn?”

“Your kit, you mend it.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “They get looked after a lot better that way. The boats are launched via this rig called a DODO.” He pointed to the tractors and cages. “That stands for drive on, drive off. We always reverse into the cage so we can just go straight out.”

“Cal, can't you keep away?”

Hattie turned at the new voice. A tall, blue-eyed man with salt and pepper hair stood in the doorway.

Cal grinned. “Nope. Just giving a friend the guided tour. She's on holiday here. This is Hattie Steele.”

The man held out a hand. “Tom Milligan, lifeboat operations manager. How are you finding Penry Island?”

“It hasn't changed since I was a kid. We used to come and stay with my aunt all the time. She runs the shop next to the base.”

Tom clicked his fingers. “I knew I recognized the name. You're Steve's sister. He used to play with my Derek. How is he?”

“Fine.” She smiled. At least she assumed he was fine. He wasn't sick, she knew that much. “He's married and runs a guest house on the mainland.”

“Say hi to him next time you see him.”

“I will.”

“Cal, when you get a moment, can you look over those press photos please? You need to pick one for the RNLI mag and for the website.”

“Tom, I told you a dozen times already, Sam is the face of Penry Island station, not me.” Cal's tone changed and tinged with irritation.

“You are now. So choose a picture or two—or I will. They need it by one at the latest. The newspaper article gets printed today, should be in tonight's paper.”

“And that one can go on the dartboard, too.”

“It will not. I shall frame it right alongside the other one.”

Cal sighed. “Fine. When I get the chance, I'll look at the photos. Right now I'm a little busy.” He looked at Hattie. “Let me show you the rest of the station.”

“Sure.” She followed him to the stairs.

“All these pictures on the walls are of rescues we've done. One of the local artists does them for us, based on the reports we write and interviews afterwards. This is my grandfather—Sidney Trant.”

Hattie read the text below. “Wow. That's some rescue.”

Cal nodded. “That picture depicts the rescue. He got the MBE for his part in it.”

“I can see why.” The painting depicted a huge tanker, dwarfing the small lifeboat beside it. Lines ran between the two ships with a figure in lifeboat uniform in the water. “And they got everyone off?”

“Yes. And they secured the ship so it could be towed to safe harbor after the storm.” He sighed as his pager went off. “Here we go again.”

Tom appeared on the landing above them. “Cal!”

“I'm right here. What have we got?”

“Child gone missing—Dylan Wills age four. Reports say he either fell from or was swept off the pier. I need both boats to respond to this one.”

“I'm there. Excuse me.” Cal hurtled down the stairs.

Hattie turned back to the picture on the wall. She didn't have to imagine what being out there in a storm was like. She knew only too well. “Are this number of launches in a week normal?”

“No. We normally get one or two a week. This is pretty exceptional. Probably won't get any next week at all. Or we don't get out to sea at all except training.”

“When's that?”

“Every Wednesday evening and Sunday morning. That way each crew trains twice during their duty week. Would you like to come and watch the launch?”

“Yes, I would.” Hattie smiled and followed him down the stairs and out onto the beach.

The DODO was already outside the station, warming the engines and the shore team rushed around prepping the boats. Cal appeared already kitted up as the rest of the two crews ran in from the car park.

Sam rolled his eyes. “How'd you manage that one, Cal?”

“Already here,” Cal grinned. “Hurry up. Four year old boy in the water off the pier somewhere.” He climbed up into the boat and set about checking the equipment.

Tom smiled at Hattie. “As helm officer, Cal's in charge of the boat. Phil is training to be a helmsman, so during training, Cal becomes the instructor.”

“They're good at what they do.”

Tom checked his clipboard, marking off the names. “They're a team. It makes a difference to just being four men in a boat.”

“The way Cal described it is a family.”

Tom nodded. “Very much so. It's like being a father to twenty-one teenage boys at times.”

The other members of the team ran past them and climbed into their respective lifeboats. The tractors instantly made their way down the shingle beach.

“It's so different to yesterday.” She rubbed her arm, trying to equate the sea now with the huge life threatening waves from the previous day.

“It should make the rescue easier, but not necessarily. There are a lot of eddies by the pier. And the tide's about to go out. Which means the child could be pulled out to sea.”

“How much fuel have they got?” She watched Cal guide the boat from the cage and speed off into the water.

“Two and a half hours' worth. But that should be plenty. The RHIB can last three hours.”

“What if they don't find the child?”

“They'll come back and refuel. I'll have a relief crew standing by after the refuel if a third launch is needed.”

“Isn't five hours a long time to be out there?”

“Three hours is the maximum in the winter, but today it's not too bad.”

Hattie watched as the boats vanished out of sight.
Keep them safe and let their mission be a success.

 

 

 

 

 

12

 

At exactly six o'clock. Cal rang the doorbell. He wiped his hands on his slacks, surprised at how nervous he felt. He'd taken out loads of women over the years, but this? This was different. He knew he carried a lot of baggage from the past on how to treat, or rather how
not
to treat women and at some point he needed to sit down and talk it through with Carter and or pray about it. Maybe on reflection he'd just pray about it.

The door opened and Laurie stood there. “Evening, Cal. My, you scrub up well.”

He smiled, hating the way his cheeks betrayed him. “Thanks.” His voice came out a lot gruffer than he wanted and he coughed to clear his throat. “Is Hattie in?”

“She sure is. Come on in.” Laurie opened the door wide and as he stepped over the threshold, she turned to the stairs. “Hattie, Cal's here.”

“One moment,” came the reply. “I'm having a crisis.”

“Need some help?”

“No. I just need a couple more minutes.”

Cal smiled. “Mind if I take a quick peek in the den?” he asked. “Have a look before starting work on Monday?”

“Course not. You know where it is.”

He nodded and headed through to the side of the house that the fire had destroyed. The main repairs to the structure had been completed and the breeze block walls were in place along with the wiring. Floors were also in, but nothing else. He needed to plaster the walls, add coving, skirting, door frames and doors.

The original door and frame still stood in place, blistered and blackened. He wasn't sure why it was still there, but his first job would be to rip it out and put in a new one. The room felt chilly and he wondered if plastering then plasterboard would be a better idea. It would better insulate it and help the new heating. The radiators sat unconnected in the middle of the room. Dad could fit those once he'd finished and then Brian, the decorator could put the paper up. Unless he did it. Not exactly part of his job, but it wouldn't take long and he knew Laurie had it all ready and waiting.