A Safe Harbour (32 page)
Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
Richard assumed that she meant he knew the rest of the story. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘And Kate hasn’t come home.’ Betsy frowned; she looked as if she was thinking hard about something, trying to puzzle it out. Then her frown cleared and her eyes widened hopefully. ‘Do you think she might have gone to Mr Munro’s?’ she asked.
‘Why would she go there?’
‘Well, he’s painting her picture, isn’t he – and they’re friends, aren’t they? I mean, they always laugh and smile a lot when he isn’t telling her to keep still. Perhaps she’s gone there to talk to him.’
Richard examined her suggestion and, although he found it an unlikely explanation, he was surprised at how disturbing the idea was. More than disturbing – the thought of Kate Lawson and his cousin laughing and talking and being friends was almost unbearable. Richard shied away from speculating why that was so, but it was.
‘Mr Adamson – will you answer me?’
‘Sorry. What did you say?’
‘I knew you weren’t listening. I asked you if I should go and see if Kate is at Mr Munro’s house. I could tell her to come home because it’s late.’
Before Richard could form an answer there was a knock at the door.
‘Kate!’ Betsy cried out and flew to open it. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it’s you, Grandma.’
Martha Smith was obviously surprised to see Richard there. She looked round the room quickly and then asked, ‘Where’s Kate?’
‘I don’t know,’ Betsy said. ‘The door was open.’
Richard added, ‘And I found your granddaughter here. I think she’s worried about Kate – Miss Lawson.’
Martha turned to her granddaughter. ‘I wouldn’t worry, pet. Kate has probably gone to visit her friend.’
‘What friend is that?’ Richard tried hard to sound as if he was expressing a casual interest.
‘Jane – Jane Harrison.’
‘The cobbler’s daughter? But she works in town, doesn’t she?’
‘Aye, in a grand house in Jesmond. But she’s home visiting her mother, and staying overnight. I saw her arrive with her little carpet bag.’
‘Nothing much is missed in this village, is it?’ Richard said wryly.
Martha laughed. ‘What do you expect? Everyone knows everyone and we like to know what’s going on.’
‘Are you sure Kate is at Jane’s house?’ Betsy said.
‘Well, I admit it’s a guess but I think it’s a good one. After all, the two lasses have been friends since their schooldays, haven’t they? They always visit each other when Jane comes home. And talking about home, I think it’s high time you came home with me.’
‘All right. But if Kate has gone to Jane’s house why would she leave the door open?’
That stumped Martha. ‘I didn’t think of that. But maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was in such a hurry to visit her friend that she was careless when she pulled the door shut after her. Maybe the sneck didn’t catch properly so the door blew open again.’ She paused. ‘What do you think, Mr Adamson? After all, there’s a high old wind blowing tonight.’
The old woman looked at him keenly and Richard realized she was appealing to him for help. ‘I think that’s possible,’ he said.
‘Do you?’ Betsy asked him and he nodded. ‘And do you think she’s all right?’
‘Why shouldn’t she be?’ her grandmother said. ‘Right now, your friend Kate will be sitting having a good old chinwag with her friend Jane Harrison, take my word for it. Now come along home. And you, too, Mr Adamson. Come out and shut the door. That poor miserable dog of yours is getting wetter by the minute out there.’
‘What about the cats?’ Betsy said suddenly and Richard could see that her grandmother was getting impatient.
‘Don’t worry about the cats,’ he said. ‘I think we should leave them here. I’m sure Miss Lawson won’t mind. She wouldn’t like to think of them being put out in the rain, would she?’
‘But they might want to go home. Back to Mr Munro’s house.’
‘Why don’t we open a window?’ Richard said quickly, before Martha became more irritated. ‘Look, that one above the bench. Just the top half. I’m sure the cats are clever enough to jump up and small enough to squeeze through.’
Betsy grinned. ‘They come in that way sometimes.’
‘Right, then. I’ll open it now.’
Betsy seemed satisfied with that. The window opened, Richard followed Martha to the door. He paused to look round the clean and well-ordered room and wondered what it might be like to sit here with Kate by the fire.
‘Come along, Mr Adamson, sir,’ Martha said. ‘Me and the bairn is getting soaked standing here.’ It was obvious that she wanted to close the door herself and make sure it was secure.
After doing so, she said goodnight to him and she and the child hurried away along the rain-drenched street. Richard watched them go, then turned to look for Prince. The dog was huddled as close as possible to the wall of the cottage.
‘If I could have trusted you to behave yourself, I would have allowed you to come in,’ Richard said and Prince turned his head on one side as he listened. Then he got up and walked towards his master, wagging his tail experimentally. He pushed his nose into Richard’s hand.
‘All right, you’re forgiven,’ Richard said. ‘But no more running off and no more chasing cats, right?’
Prince, no doubt eager to redeem himself, stayed close to heel as they set off for the beach.
Was
Kate with her friend Jane? Richard wondered. Had she been so eager to get there that she had been careless about shutting her door properly? Or had she been equally eager to visit someone else? He stopped outside Howard’s two-storey cottage and looked at it. The windows were dark and there was no light showing under the door. His cousin must be in bed. Kate wasn’t here unless . . . No, he refused to let his thoughts take that path.
Kate with her friend Jane? Richard wondered. Had she been so eager to get there that she had been careless about shutting her door properly? Or had she been equally eager to visit someone else? He stopped outside Howard’s two-storey cottage and looked at it. The windows were dark and there was no light showing under the door. His cousin must be in bed. Kate wasn’t here unless . . . No, he refused to let his thoughts take that path.
‘All right – off you go!’
At the top of the slope Richard gave Prince permission to run ahead and the dog raced off as though the wind was behind him. The beach was deserted. Any fisherman who had decided to risk the weather had already set sail, but the row of cobles beached high above the waterline told Richard that many, wisely, had decided to stay at home tonight.
The tide was coming in and it seemed unusually high. It had reached the outcrop of cliff that cut the bay into two at high water. There wasn’t much beach left for Prince to romp on but he was making the most of it, racing round ecstatically as the wind ruffled his coat and barking at the loose pebbles that scuttled by.
And then he started barking at the sea, running after the retreating waves and dodging backwards when they advanced again. Inevitably he got caught by a wave that surged further than he was expecting and Richard called him to heel.
‘I don’t want to spend the rest of the night rubbing you down, old fellow,’ he said. ‘It’s too cold for a dip tonight.’ Prince rewarded him by shaking himself vigorously. Richard laughed and jumped out of the way of the flying droplets. ‘I think we’ll go home now,’ he said.
He set off for the slope that led up to Bank Top and was halfway there when he realized that Prince was not following him. He turned in exasperation and saw that the dog was nosing his way along the curving cliff face towards one of the caves. The water was already surging into the cave mouth and – Richard had to strain to see it – it looked as though something was floating in the water, going in and out with the waves.
Prince stopped sniffing and stared at the object. Then, without warning, he made a dash into the water and grabbed it with his teeth. It was obviously unwieldy but the dog would not let go. He turned, was buffeted by an incoming wave, struggled to keep his feet, and, half swimming by now, tried to make his way back to his master.
Now Richard saw what it was: his umbrella, turned inside out, the torn fabric trailing in the water. And there was something else, something that looked like a large piece of seaweed caught up in the spokes, making it difficult for Prince to manage his unwieldy trophy.
‘Here, Prince!’ he called. ‘Leave it!’ But his words were snatched away by the strengthening wind.
This is partly my own fault, he thought. I told the poor beast that we would go and look for the umbrella. Another wave, stronger than those that had gone before, knocked Prince sideways again and Richard had just decided that he must go into the water and drag the dog to safety when the wave receded and Prince scrambled up and lurched forward to drop the umbrella at Richard’s feet.
‘Good dog,’ Richard said weakly.
He bent to fondle Prince’s ears and realized that he would have to take the umbrella home, no matter what state it was in. After all, his faithful companion had risked his life to fetch it for him.
Richard picked it up and started to disentangle what he had thought was a clump of seaweed. It was a woman’s shawl. Left near the mouth of the cave, no doubt, by one of the village women and then forgotten about. Richard shook it and decided to leave it on some nearby rocks well away from the waterline. Whoever had lost it would find it in the morning.
But as he spread it out and secured it with a heavy stone, a memory surfaced in his mind. What was it that Howard had told him? Something about making a fool of himself by going into a cave to rescue a young woman who told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t need rescuing.
And that young woman had been Kate. Kate Lawson, who had also told Howard that she and Jos, the lad who was to become her sweetheart, often played in that cave when they were children. And according to Betsy Smith Kate was missing. Had left her cottage without securing the door properly. Or had been in such a state of mind that she had left it wide open . . . suddenly he knew for certain – Kate was in trouble. For some reason, she’d gone to the cave.
He didn’t stop to think any further. Telling Prince to stay and guard the shawl and the umbrella, he plunged through the rising tide, feeling his way along the cliff face until he found the cave’s mouth.
Wherever you were in the village you could hear the sound of the sea; it even became part of your dreams. Kate stirred in her sleep, came half awake, but was too tired to open her eyes. She couldn’t remember ever being so tired. The mattress seemed hard and lumpy. She would have to drag it into the yard and hang it over the washing line and give it a good beating.
The room seemed cold. Had she built up the fire before coming to bed? She couldn’t remember. And it was draughty, too. She must have left the window open; the window above the bench. Drat. One or more of Howard’s cats would be bound to sneak in. They were always waiting, lurking, ready to trip her up if she opened the door, or jump down on to the bench from the window and seek out any tasty titbits she might have left uncovered.
It was strange, though. She was usually particular about all those little tasks, especially since Aunt Meg had died and she had been living here alone. Memory stirred and brought with it a sense of anguish. She was going to have to leave the cottage. Where would she go? What would become of her baby if she couldn’t find somewhere for them to live? Would they take the baby away from her?
Sleep receded as her anguish grew and she turned violently, flinging her arm sideways. Her hand landed on the floor. But how could it have done? The bed was too high for that to happen. Kate tried to rouse herself but her head was hot and she felt groggy. Still struggling to swim up from the depths she realized that the floor where her hand lay was cold . . . not just cold, but wet. And the water was lapping, backwards and forwards like the tide.
As the horror of her situation finally penetrated her feverish slumbers she forced her eyes open and sat up and banged her head on the ceiling. But, of course, it wasn’t the ceiling of the cottage; it was the roof of the cave. She had fallen asleep on the ledge in the cave and the tide was coming in.
The water dragged at his clothes. He should have taken his coat off, he realized, but it was too late now. He had to go on.
Soon he had to stoop as the cave narrowed and the roof became lower. The moonlight barely lit the way now but his eyes adjusted to the dim light and he peered ahead. He could see the ledge and something lying on it. Someone. It couldn’t be anyone but Kate and his heart almost stopped when he saw how still she was.
But then the figure stirred and one arm flopped over into the water with a faint splash. Richard hurried forward, forgetting to stoop, and banged his head on the rocky roof just as the figure sat up and opened her eyes wide.
‘Kate!’ he said, and her expression of terror turned to one of bewilderment as she stared up at him. He knelt down, heedless of the water now rising almost to his waist, and gathered her into his arms. ‘For God’s sake, Kate,’ he said. ‘Are you trying to break my heart?’
Chapter Fourteen
A shaft of watery sunlight fell across Kate’s closed eyelids; she turned her head away. She wanted to sleep for just a little while longer. But, now, irritatingly, her tired brain stirred and presented her with a puzzle. Had she really fallen asleep in the cave and only awakened when the tide came in? No, it couldn’t be. It must have been a dream – a nightmare – for now she was warm and comfortable in her own bed. The trouble was, she did remember going to the cave but had no recollection of returning to the cottage.
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