Turning the Tide (34 page)

Maeve sighed. ‘I don’t know. I was too scared, I guess. I thought you were better off not knowing, so it was easier to stay in France and pretend that the rift between us might miraculously heal itself than tell you the truth.’

Harry rubbed her temples. If she had known the truth about her father, she might have made a different choice. Perhaps she would have been free of the boat yard, free to be young, free to be frivolous. As it was she’d worked night and day, all these years, for what?

‘Your father loved you so much. He was thrilled to have a daughter. And when he died, when he decided to take his own life … well, I’d already lost him. I didn’t want to lose you too.’

Maeve shook her head. ‘You’ve got so much strength, Harry. You were brave to come here tonight and looking so beautiful too.’ Taking her hand, Maeve smiled at her. ‘You’ve been alone for so long, holding the fort, that I was worried you’d never give in, never admit that you needed company,’ she said, stroking Harry’s fingers. ‘You’re so like your father in that respect; once he’d made up his mind, he wouldn’t budge either. I worshipped him, but it wasn’t an equal partnership. I know it’s tough for you to hear this, Harry, but I’m a far happier woman now, with Don.’

Harry reached for her and wondered how they’d got in such a mess. Was it her father’s fault for storming his way through life, daring anyone to challenge him? Had she and Maeve loved him so much that without him they were totally bereft and completely rudderless? No, that wasn’t right; you couldn’t love someone too much, not a living breathing person anyway, but you could let the past get in the way of the present. Harry sighed. Maeve had moved on, George had tried to move on, but Harry had only wanted to stop the clock.

‘Where is Don, Mum?’

Maeve looked anxious. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not here. He stayed at the hotel. We thought it would be best.’

‘Oh, Mum.’ Harry shook her head. Goodness, she’d made everyone miserable. ‘I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I was wrong. I thought I was saving the boat yard for Dad. I thought I was the one keeping him alive in some way and that you had turned your back on him. In the end it wasn’t about Dad, though, was it? I put Watling’s before all the truly important things in life, like looking after you and George.’

She took a deep breath. ‘There’s some putting right I have to do, if it’s not too late. Maybe I could start by finding out about your life in France? I’ve decided to make a few changes here and I’m planning to take some time out. I’d love to come and visit you both, if you’ll have me.’

‘You’re my daughter, Harry,’ Maeve said, clasping her hand tightly. ‘You don’t need to ask. Come when you like. Stay as long as you like. But come as soon as you can.’

‘So common,’ sniffed Fabian as Roy Moult, wearing a black shirt, white tie and trilby, elbowed his way past. ‘Just like a provincial wedding reception.’ After the success of the
Dirty Dancing
screening, a space had been cleared for anyone who wanted to show off on the dance floor, also to Fabian’s disgust.

Harry, returning with more drinks, squeezed past Roy and perched on the chair next to Carmen.

‘Nice to see you and your mama happy again,’ Carmen clucked approvingly. ‘Just like me and my Lola.’

‘Thanks, Carmen,’ Harry said, hugging her. ‘I couldn’t have faced any of this without you.’

‘Like a fairy godmother, eh?’ Carmen’s face fell. ‘Aye yi yi! I suppose you are back to the ugly dungarees tomorrow?’

Harry got up. There was someone else to see. ‘Maybe,’ she said, winking. ‘Tomorrow’s another day.’

George was sitting quietly to one side of the room, nursing a glass of water, his shoulders slightly drooping; but his face brightened as Harry positioned herself in front of him.

‘Hallo, Miss Harriet,’ he smiled. ‘You don’t ’alf look a picture.’

‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ she said, pointing at his suit. ‘George,’ she added quietly, ‘would you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

‘Don’t know why I should,’ George grumbled affection
ately, ‘seeing as you can’t dance.’

‘No, but you can, George, and no one will know I’ve got two left feet if you don’t let me show myself up.’

‘Come on, then. But for once in yer life just trust me to know what I’m doing, will you? Or I’ll tip you right on yer arse.’

Harry, being very careful not to do anything that could be misconstrued as a refusal to take orders, let George lead her confidently in a waltz. He was such a good dancer that soon she felt as if she could glide across any ballroom. Once she was able to stop concentrating so hard on what her feet were doing, Harry had a chance to look at George; he was still thinner in the face and sadder looking, but he had shed his grey pallor and his eyes were bright.

‘Oh, George, I’m so glad you’re all right,’ she began. ‘I was so worried when you were ill. I wanted to come and visit you, but I was afraid. I’m never going to make that mistake again.’

‘Hush,’ said George. ‘Ain’t no harm been done. Leastways, not by you. That’s what I told Matthew. I said you was a scared little girl who misses ’er dad. I know how much you loved him.’

‘A tad more than he loved me, apparently,’ she said, airily.

‘You know how much he loved you, Miss Harriet. You could see it all over his face from the minute he clapped eyes on you, so don’t start any of that old nonsense.’

She felt a lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t have preferred George to tell Matthew that she was every bit as scary as her reputation. Anyway, it hardly mattered now.

‘And what about yer mum?’ George asked. ‘Are you sorted out with her?’

‘Yes. Yes I am, funnily enough. It’s easier, in a way, knowing why she kept her distance from me.’

‘Don’t be too hard on her, will you?’ George pleaded. ‘She was so young, so innocent. Sometimes I felt that your father took advantage of her complete trust in him, just to try to forget his own demons. And he managed it too, for several years. You mustn’t lose sight of that.’

‘I know,’ said Harry. ‘Look, George, I’ve been doing some thinking and …’ She faltered, feeling quite choked about the boat yard.

George’s firm hand on her back reminded her to keep moving.

‘There’s plenty of time to talk about tomorrow, tomorrow.’ He told her. ‘But, if you keep pulling on my arm like that, you’ll ’ave us both over. There, that’s better.’ He grinned. ‘If only you would do as you’re told more often. You wouldn’t ’alf save me a body of work.’

Harry rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut. She’d been fighting everyone for far too long. As the music stopped, Harry became aware of a ripple of applause which grew louder and louder. Blushing, she looked around to see that everyone was on their feet. Frankie put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly, Carmen was clapping her hands at nineteen to the dozen and Matthew nodded, his dimple creasing his cheek as he smiled at them both. Harry leaned over and planted a kiss on George’s cheek.

‘Getting soft in yer old age, you are,’ he grumbled.

‘You know, George,’ she said quickly, ‘you’ve always been there for me. A bit like a dad, in fact.’

‘Good lord!’ George replied, sandy eyebrows nearly touching the ceiling. ‘Do me a favour, Miss Harriet, ’aven’t I been punished enough in this life?’ Shuffling back to a seat, he nevertheless looked up and gave her a wink, and Harry felt so relieved that she’d had the chance to put things right between them. Tomorrow she’d start making it up to George for everything he’d done for her, but tonight she had one thing left to do.

A couple of heads turned as she walked into the kitchen, but mainly they were concentrating on clearing away as fast as possible so they could all get home. Jimi was standing by the open back door. His shoulders drooped and his smile, as he turned and saw her, was sad and weary. In an unspoken agreement, they slipped outside for some privacy.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘it’s good to see you.’

Suddenly she felt shy, nervous. ‘The food was wonderful, Jimi, you’re obviously really talented.’

‘Matthew gave me a free hand to put my team together. They’re a good bunch, which helps. But, yeah,’ he grinned, ‘I’m too talented to risk my hands running round your boat yard.’

He turned to her, his smile gentle. ‘It’s your boat yard, Harry. I know that now, I can’t imagine anyone else running it. And, yes, I was envious of you, before I got to know you. My dad, Scott, or rather the man I thought was my dad, kept me at arm’s length after my mum died. I was so hurt, I just couldn’t understand why, and then I got angry. I even stopped using his name.

‘I thought you had it all, so I was determined to get my fair share. But that was before I realised how much you’d suffered too. So much for our legacies, eh?’ He reached out and touched her lightly on the arm. ‘You’re the one who’s built the boat yard up, the one on the brink of success. It isn’t and never was anything to do with me. I’ve got my own career.’

Harry watched as he talked and was startled by a strange new sensation coursing through her body; a sense of pride, a warm, happy feeling.

‘I don’t need the boat yard, Harry. I’ve found something much more important. My little sister.’

As he pulled her to him in a crushing embrace, Harry realised what the unfamiliar feeling was; at last she could forget about fighting the world – she wasn’t alone any more.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The sky was a clear sapphire blue studded with stars. Harry stopped walking to catch her breath and gaze up above her; had a night ever looked this lovely? Strange alchemy was at work; the keen awareness of everything she’d lost, and the stirrings of hope for what she might find, made her feel dizzy as she searched for an anchor point, something that would steady her.

Once she had imagined on such a night that somewhere her father was still watching her, that if she listened very carefully she might even hear his voice. Now she knew that she would hear only the murmur of the wind and the creeping tide. Harry scanned the heavens and ached for a sign, anything she could take for his presence. She waited and watched and hoped and wished, until she knew that the night was empty.

As her bare shoulders drooped and she became suddenly aware of the cold, a footstep sounded on the gravel behind her and her heart lurched.

‘Jimi told me I’d find you out here,’ said a familiar husky voice. ‘I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk to you all evening, but I didn’t mind the wait when I saw you and George dancing together.’

She felt the warmth of his body as he moved closer to her. ‘That dress is quite an improvement on the dungarees, you know.’

‘The dungarees are practical,’ she said, feeling shivery. ‘And warmer.’

‘Take this,’ said Matthew, taking off his jacket and draping it around her. ‘Unless you’d rather go back inside?’

Harry shook her head; she didn’t have very much left to lose, but she still wanted to save face. In the dark it was much easier to pretend that she was someone Matthew might mistake as an attractive woman.

‘It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?’ he said, still standing right behind her.

‘It’s exquisite,’ said Harry, quickly closing her eyes in case another look at the view she loved tempted her to change her mind about what she had to say next. ‘Just try to make sure it stays that way, will you?’

‘Harry?’

‘You won, Matthew,’ she said, hoarsely. ‘You promised to build the restaurant that would put Little Spitmarsh on the map and you’ve done it. You told me that would be the catalyst for a new prosperity for the town and that’s started to happen too. You said the bucket and spade holidays had gone for good and maybe you’re right. Soon you’ll be developing apartments for a new breed of holidaymakers; people who wouldn’t dream of burning up the atmosphere with jet fuel, but are quite happy to come here. People who’ll overlook the transformations that a plain little town has undergone to provide them with the right ambience for their quaintly chic shops, their good eating places and a range of politically correct entertainment.’

Harry sniffed. One of the downsides of wearing a dress like the one she had on was that there was nowhere to stuff a tissue.

‘I’ve poured everything I had into trying to hang on to the past; a little town desperately in need of rejuvenation, a boat yard crying out for a modern approach, a father who wasn’t the man I’d built him up to be. I was so determined to see the world my way that I was blind to what was happening around me.’

She swallowed, trying to ease her dry throat. ‘I need some time out. I’m thinking about staying with Mum and Don for a while, or maybe I’ll go off on the boat. And yes, I do still feel the same way about
Calypso
and no, I’m not going to disappear over the side like Dad. Just look after Little Spitmarsh whilst I’m gone, will you? Try to make sure there’s enough of the old place left for me to recognise when I return. The future’s yours, Matthew. We’re in your hands now.’

‘So you are,’ he said, turning her round, taking her hand and examining it in the starlight. Harry gave silent thanks to Carmen for turning it into something less like one a builder would be proud of.

‘And very nice it feels too. You’ve got such sweet little hands,’
he murmured, before raising it to his mouth and kissing it.

‘There’s no need for that,’ Harry said, snatching it away before she believed he meant it. ‘You’ve got what you wanted; the charm offensive’s completely unnecessary.’