A Good Catch Part 39

'Try the handle. It won't be locked.'

'I don't like to.'

'Oh, for G.o.d's sake.' Jesse pushed his arm in front of her and opened the door. 'h.e.l.lo!' he called cheerily.

The house released the steam of vegetables boiling on the stove and the smell of a chicken roasting in the oven. They could hear music coming from a radio.

'Mickey boy?' shouted Jesse as he walked into the comfortably loved lounge. 'Where are you, you b.u.g.g.e.r?'

Greer, standing on the threshold, looked at the surroundings with her usual judgmental eye. If it were stripped back of all the tasteless clutter, it could be so stylish. Thick and wonky stone walls. Flagstoned floor. Original fireplace and stunning views out to the harbour. But Loveday had smothered all that with her Dralon chintz four-piece suite, grim Austrian blinds and, to Greer's mind, pointless gewgaws on every available surface. The room was separated into two areas. The hideous sitting area to the left and a dining area to the right. The table was laid for six and festooned with streamers and birthday cards.

The kitchen was accessed via the worst a.s.sault on the concept of design that Greer could remember. A brick arch, a plastic vine nailed to it and raffia-covered bottles of chianti placed at odd angles. Loveday was inordinately proud of it. She had once told Greer, who had never forgotten, that it reminded her of the Greek taverna in Shirley Valentine. Greer hadn't the energy to tell Loveday that Greeks drank retsina and not chianti.

The kitchen itself was functional but dull, the walls the same terracotta colour that had once been so desirable in the nineties.

Greer shocked herself with this b.i.t.c.hy inner dialogue. Loveday had been nothing but generous to her after Hal lost his arm. Loveday could should hate her, but she didn't.

Greer took the cake box into the kitchen and found Loveday standing outside the back door having a cup of coffee.

'Oh,' said Loveday, clutching her chest. 'I didn't hear you, darlin'. I was just thinking about what you and I were doing twenty-one years ago.'

They embraced each other and Greer handed over the cake. 'What a day that was. But we've survived, more or less intact.' Realising what she'd said, she quickly apologised, feeling the heat of horror in her face. 'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-'

Loveday was quick with her rea.s.surance. 'No, no, it's fine. Figure of speech. Now then.' She opened the cake box. 'What have you made for us?'

'It's not much. Chocolate sponge, as usual.'

'Tradition, that's what it is,' said Loveday, smiling. 'Imagine if one year you didn't make it? The boys would go mad.'

Greer slipped her coat off and hung it over a kitchen chair. 'How can I help?'

Jesse wandered in. 'Where's that husband of your'n?'

'Upstairs, having a shower.' Loveday handed Greer an ap.r.o.n. 'Can you make some gravy?'

'Yes, of course,' said Greer. 'Did the boys have a good night last night?'

'I didn't hear them come in so it must've been late. I took them coffee this morning and they don't look too good.'

Greer felt her stomach flip with relief that Freddie was safe. She hated it when she didn't hear from him. She always asked him to text, just to let her know he was OK, but he would forget.

Jesse went to the fridge and found himself a tin of beer. 'Don't mind, do you?'

'Help yourself,' said Loveday, taking the pan of boiled potatoes off the Aga and carrying them to the sink to drain them.

Greer was looking in the larder. 'Do you have any cornflour?'

'What for?' asked Loveday, the steam from the potatoes billowing in her face.

'The gravy.'

Loveday smiled indulgently at her old friend. 'Bless you, Greer. If you look to the right there's a red tub of Bisto granules. They'll do.'

Greer found the tub and felt somehow foolish for asking for the cornflour. She read the instructions with care. 'So all I have to do is boil a kettle?'

'That's all you have to do.'

'Morning, all.' Mickey's lanky frame stood in the archway. His hair was still damp from the shower but combed smooth, and he smelt of Lynx. He spotted Jesse's beer. 'Pa.s.s me one of those, Jess.'

'Coming up.' Jesse tossed a tin to Mickey. 'You girls want a drink?'

'Gin and tonic, please,' said Loveday, pouring batter mix into a red-hot roasting tin for Yorkshire pudding.

'Same for me, Jesse, thank you,' said Greer. 'Are the boys up yet, Mickey?'

'Aye, they're showering. Can't believe they're twenty-one. Where's the time gone? Cheers.' He lifted his tin and the girls took their drinks from Jesse. 'Cheers.' They c.h.i.n.ked and drank.

Greer was mixing the carefully measured gravy granules with the hot water when Freddie appeared and slid an arm round her waist and kissed her. 'All right, Mum?'

He loomed tall above her and she looked up to drink him in. Her one and only precious son. He was in yesterday's jeans and T-shirt and his breath smelt of last night's alcohol, but he looked all right. Her heart beat a little quicker knowing he was safe.

'You should have texted me.'

'Sorry, Mum. Battery went dead.'

'I should have bought you an extra big battery for your birthday.'

'Oh, yes.' He stretched himself tall, grazing his knuckles on the low ceiling. 'It's my birthday. Happy birthday to me!'

'All right, son?' Jesse pa.s.sed him a tin of beer. 'Need a hair of the dog?'

'Get on then.' He took the can and opened it with a hiss. 'What you got me for my birthday then?'

'You'll have to wait.'

'What about me?' Hal came into the crowded kitchen. His stump was clearly visible under his short-sleeved shirt. He gave his mum and Greer a one-armed hug.

'Happy Birthday, Hal. I hope you had a good night last night?'

'Awesome, weren't it, Fred?'

'Legend,' Freddie agreed. 'Beer, mate?'

'Yes, please.'

'Would you boys please get out of the kitchen and let Greer and I get on?' Loveday shooed them out.

'So what's the plan of action today?' Jesse asked, settling himself on the sofa with half an eye on the football that Hal and Freddie had found on the television.

'The Lifeboat Parade starts at two thirty, so if we get down to the harbour around two fifteen we'll have a bit of time to form up with everyone,' said Mickey.

Loveday shouted from the kitchen. 'I've got to get the raffle tickets and collection buckets from the harbour master's office just after two.'

'Well, you can go ahead of us if you want to,' Mickey shouted back.

'I can give you a lift,' said Greer, adding a small k.n.o.b of b.u.t.ter to the new potatoes in their dish. 'I've got to get the cream teas set up in the hall by three. I was up till one o'clock this morning making the flipping scones. Hundreds of them.' She picked up the bowl of peas and the jug of gravy and walked through to put them on the dining-room table. Loveday surrept.i.tiously added a larger slab of b.u.t.ter to the potatoes. 'Greer,' she called, 'I've got a wine box in the fridge. Specially for you. Chardonnay. I know you like good wine.'

Greer inwardly winced at the notion that any wine in a box could be good, but she thanked Loveday and gamely retrieved the box from the fridge and put it on the table.

'Right,' said Loveday grandly, 'luncheon is served.'

As soon as they sat down, the phone rang. With dramatic huffs and puffs, Loveday pulled herself back out of her chair and answered it. ''Ello?... Becca? h.e.l.lo, darlin'! Is Bea with you? How's uni?... yeah ... yeah ... sounds brilliant, yeah. Your dad's fine. We're all here having birthday lunch with the boys ... OK, I'll put you on ... speak later. Love you. Here's your brother. '

Lunch was relaxed and easy. Pudding was Loveday's signature dish: apple crumble and clotted cream. Her crumble topping was always deep and delicious. 'One- third fruit to two-thirds crumble' was her mantra.

'Oh my, look at the time. 'Tis a quarter to two,' Loveday yelped, jumping up. 'We'd better get down to the quay.'

Greer stood too and began to clear the table.

'What are you doing girl?' asked Loveday. 'Get your coat on or we'll be late.'

'I'll just clear these things,' said Greer, who couldn't bear coming home to unwashed dishes.

'No you won't, they'll keep till tomorrow. Come on.'

The last Lifeboat Day of the year was always a huge event in the Trevay calendar. There were still quite a few tourists about; they were always keen to watch the parade and throw their spare change into the jingling buckets.

The parade itself was always headed by the Trevay Pipe Band, followed by Trevay's serving lifeboatmen. Behind them came a succession of floats bearing a series of tableaux. This year's theme was 'The Majesty of the Sea' and entrants included the Trevay Infant School, the WI, the Pavilions Theatre Players, the St Peter's Church Sunday School and, incongruously, a man dressed as a gorilla riding a motorbike.

Trevay quay was awash with revellers, most a little drunk and all enjoying the spectacle, the autumn sun and a day off work.

Loveday walked among them shaking her bucket and doling out sweeties to the children. Greer, having laid out her cream teas and organised the helpers into getting the tea urns on, looked down from the large windows of the Old Hall above the harbour, and watched.

Freddie and Hal were sitting outside the Golden Hind, drinking with a group of mates.

As the lifeboat crew marched past the pub, it was Freddie who saw Jesse touch his trouser pocket and pull out his pager.

Freddie nudged Hal's stump. 'They've got a shout.'

37.

David, the divisional launch authority who'd taken the initial message from the coastguards in Falmouth, was waiting in the boat-house crew room.

'What we got?' Jesse asked, as he pulled on his yellow oilskin trousers, boots, jacket and life vest.

'Yacht about seventeen miles out. Broken mast. Falmouth are getting an accurate position for her. Two on board. Father and son. No casualties reported. But weather doesn't look good.'

Jesse looked over the a.s.sembled faces of the crew who'd rushed here, ready to put their lives on the line for strangers. He only needed seven of them.

'Mickey, Malcom, Si, Jeff, Kate, Brian and Don. Get your kit on. Everybody else, thanks and stand by launch.'

The chosen ones got into their kit, quietly s.h.i.tting themselves.

Jesse walked from the crew room to The Spirit of Trevay standing shiny on her rails. The doors of the boat-house were opening and the crew boarded the boat and took their positions.

Jesse gave the command. The pin was pulled and she slid with speed down the slip, out of the boat-house and into the open air. The crowd roared its cheer of support as she hit the water and the engines powered her out of the harbour and out to sea.

The radio came to life.

'Spirit of Trevay, Spirit of Trevay, Spirit of Trevay, this is Falmouth Coastguard, Falmouth Coastguard. Over.'

Jesse took up the radio handset. 'Falmouth Coastguard, this is Spirit of Trevay. We've launched. Do you have coordinates? Over.'

Jesse made a note as the coastguard reeled them off and made some calculations. 'We should be there in about three and a half hours at our current speed of five knots. Out.'

Malcolm, the helmsman, locked the boat onto autopilot. Everything was going by the book. At this rate they'd be home before last orders.

Greer was tired as she drove through the electric gates of Tide House. The cream teas had been a huge success and the added excitement of an actual emergency launch had given the visitors a good appet.i.te.

There wasn't a crumb left of the scones or a spoon left of the clotted cream and jam. She hadn't watched the The Spirit go out. She'd seen it enough times, as c.o.xswain's wife, to know what it looked like, but she had heard about it via a text from Loveday. She'd sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Freddie was no longer on the crew.

Now, sitting in her huge car parked in front of her beautiful home, she felt drained. She took a few moments and looked up at the house she loved. It was an unusual building for this part of the coast. Not built of granite or brick, but of honey-coloured stone that now glowed in the late sunshine. The gla.s.s of the big sash windows was fiery with the first rays of sunset.

Greer opened the heavy car door and felt a breeze coming off the sea below her. It lifted the corners of her grey cashmere cardigan and made her shiver.

She couldn't see the ocean from here. That view was from the house, but she could hear it on the wind. The hiss and suck of the waves as they dragged through the sand and shingle. It was louder than this morning. A sign that the wind was changing. She turned her face to the sky. Clouds were forming on the horizon. She went round to the boot and spent some minutes trundling backwards and forwards with empty cake boxes and bags of bits, until at last she locked the car with the remote key, climbed the steps to her front door and closed it on the early evening chill.

Sanctuary. Her home was welcoming and stylish. Nothing out of place. Peaceful and harmonious. If someone gave her an ornament she disliked she ruthlessly discarded it. The charity shop in Truro, far enough away for the giver of the gift not to find it, always looked forward to her donations. Sentiment had no part to play in her decor.

One of the few rows she'd won with Jesse was that not one of Freddie's school-crafted Christmas decorations or Easter cards were to make their way onto her tree or mantelpiece. That was why Jesse's boat-house on Tide Cove was a shrine to Freddie's schoolboy art. She adored her son, but not to the extent that she was prepared to compromise the look of her home. Thank G.o.d there would be no more of it. Now he was twenty-one, he was more interested in boozing and birds than papier-mche and macrame.