A Home for Her Baby Read online

  Bobby couldn’t drown, he mustn’t drown... It wasn’t right. And if he did...if he had, then it would all be down to her.

  Hours passed, or what felt like hours to Ali. If only one of them would come and tell her something...unless there was nothing to tell. She nursed her arm to try and ease the pain, thinking about Bobby and feeling guilty for being warm and dry. Bobby was always so much fun, laughing, joking and singing karaoke in the pub. Someone so vibrant and bubbling with life had to be fine...didn’t they? He was kind and caring, too, and so young. He had far too much left to give for his life to be taken; she just needed to stay positive.

  Nursing her throbbing arm she cast her mind back to the first time they met. She’d gone with her husband, Jake, to a charity event at the college in Manchester where he lectured and Bobby was a student in his tourism and hospitality course. Jake introduced them and they’d chatted, just general stuff, but after that she’d seemed to keep bumping into him when she least expected it. They’d fallen into an unlikely and totally innocent friendship, and when her dad died and then her marriage went wrong and she’d had no one to talk to, he’d been there. In fact, she realized, she’d have been lost back then without his good advice and common sense.

  You need to take some time out, he’d told her. A trial separation to decide what you really want. Maybe you could even do something for your dad. You’re a journalist and he was a fisherman, perhaps you should write an article on fishing and the sea, in his memory.

  His suggestion had taken root and grown. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, her coming to stay at his family’s pub, The Fisherman’s Inn in Jenny Brown’s Bay, a little village between Arnside and Morecambe. She’d so enjoyed talking to the fishermen who frequented the pub in the evenings, especially Bobby’s older brother Tom and learning what her father’s life must have been like. In the end she’d taken a six month lease on a cottage right down by the sea and begun writing her article. She closed her eyes and shook her head... How had it ended like this. If she hadn’t taken Bobby up on his suggestion to come here—or if she’d followed Tom’s advice and stayed on shore—tonight would never have happened. Oh why did she always have to be so pigheaded?

  Mike appeared again, peering cautiously round the door. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Have you found him?”

  “Search and Rescue are out looking.” His mouth was a grim line. “His brother Ned works for them and he’s on duty tonight so he’ll find Bobby, I’m sure of it.”

  Ali saw the lights first, blazing through the blackness. She pressed her face against the glass. They must have found him...

  The Search and Rescue boat came right up against The Sea Hawk, grating hull to hull. A man secured the ropes and a familiar figure jumped effortlessly across the gap between the boats... Ned, it was Ned.

  He spoke to Jed first, placing an arm around his father’s shoulders. When Jed dropped his face into his hands Ali’s heart sank and an unshed well of tears stopped her breathing. No...no...no...this couldn’t be happening.

  She was gasping for breath when Ned burst through the cabin door. “It’s you...” he yelled. “My brother’s dead because of you.”

  Ali sank to her knees, not noticing that the storm had died and the pale light of dawn was sneaking over the horizon, bringing the promise of a new day; a day that didn’t have Bobby in it...because of her. “I am so, so sorry,” she groaned, rocking from side to side, her pain forgotten.

  “It’s all your fault!” Ned said, turning away.

  Eventually Tom came back to the cabin, his face ashen and his eyes dark and empty. Ignoring Ali he took the controls, piloting the boat on automatic. Half an hour went by before he spoke. “I told you to stay down below,” he said without looking round. It was an accusation, Ali knew that, but she didn’t know how to respond.

  “Oh no. I’m sorry,” she eventually managed, her voice little more than a whisper. Tom just stared ahead, and she could see his eyes were bright with tears he wouldn’t allow himself to shed.

  They traveled like that for over an hour, across the restless rippling sea, unaware of the glorious dawn that brought a hint of pale winter sunshine that made the water sparkle. It felt to Ali as if the sea was laughing at their plight, but still she couldn’t hate it. She was the one who deserved to be hated. Mike came and went again, in silence, for there was nothing to be said.

  Back at the harbor, Tom and Mike worked in silence, securing the boat. Ali sat motionless, still wrapped in a blanket, not knowing what to say or do. There was nothing she could do, no words she could say that might help. Her heart was a lump of lead inside her chest, her mind an empty space that was still trying to process what had happened. She looked at Tom... Bobby was his brother.

  Tom just looked broken and lost.

  A heavy flood of tears pressed against her eyelids. What she felt must be nothing to what he was going through. Bobby’s death had been her fault, but she knew Tom would blame himself and he now had the task of going home with his dad to break the awful news to his mother, Grace, and his seventeen-year-old sister, Lily. They’d be waiting impatiently at The Fisherman’s Inn right now, waiting for their family to come home...still unaware one of them was gone forever and the fishing trip that had started out as an adventure had become a nightmare that could never end.

  Mike looked into the cabin as he was about to leave. “You okay?” he asked.

  Afraid to see sympathy in his eyes when she didn’t deserve it, she just nodded, unable to bring herself to look at him. “You need to go home now,” he told her. “And try to get some sleep. I can give you a lift if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. “No need, thanks,” she said, standing up and dropping her blanket onto the bench. “It’s not very far. I’ll be fine.”

  Tom was still on board when she left the boat and she watched and waited in the shadows until he locked the cabin, left the boat and walked woodenly across to his truck, looking neither left nor right. Only then did she start slowly walking et off toward her cottage on Cove Road, remembering how the adventure had begun, just yesterday. She’d walked so eagerly down to the boatyard, alight with excitement. And then she’d overheard them, Tom, Ned, Bobby and Jed, arguing about whether or not she should come along. Bobby had invited her and she’d been so looking forward to the chance to return her father’s ashes to the sea. When she overheard Tom calling her a rookie and a city girl who’d cause only problems for them, she’d felt a rush of disappointment. It was Bobby who was her friend, but she thought she and Tom were building a friendship, too. He’d been so patient with her many questions and had given her a lot of information on fishing as a way of life. She’d been annoyed and maybe a little hurt to find out just how angry he was about Bobby inviting her along, especially when it was so important to her. Now she knew better. She dropped her face into her hands... Now she knew just how right Tom had been and just how foolish she was.

  Opening the cottage door, she went through into the sitting room that overlooked the sea and collapsed on the sofa, feeling as if the whole world was closing in on her. Bobby Roberts was dead and it was all because of her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALI GROANED, clutching at her shoulder, her heart beating erratically as the memories kicked in... The boat...the sea...and Bobby; it was just a bad dream...had to be a bad dream. The agony in her arm said otherwise and she dragged herself up from her awkward position on the couch, crying out with the pain. She must have slept, but how could she, after everything?

  Outside, bizarrely, the sun was shining, bringing a sparkle to the tranquil ocean, just as if it was an ordinary day. But it could never be ordinary again could it...not ever. Bobby was dead because of her and she had no right to be alive. Wracked by sobs she walked to the window, looking out at the scene that only yesterday she’d loved with a passion. Now it felt as if the sea was laughing at her, mocking her with i
ts feigned serenity. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she shuddered. She needed to go to the hospital, she knew that, but it just felt so wrong. Why should she be free of pain when nothing could be done for Bobby?

  Her car was parked outside. All she had to do was climb inside, put the key into the ignition, start the engine and drive herself to the hospital: a simple task that seemed almost impossible without the use of her right arm. Almost, she told herself determinedly, picking up her car keys with her left hand...

  By the time Ali had managed to get into the driver’s seat she felt totally exhausted. Not only were her arm and shoulder screaming with objection, her whole body seemed to be rebelling. She felt sick and dizzy and her skin was rimed with cold sweat. Gritting her teeth she tried to put the key into the ignition with her left hand, wishing she’d done it before she got into her seat. When the keys dropped to the floor with a heavy jangling sound it all became too much. She slumped forward, giving way to a huge wave of dizziness, and rested her forehead heavily on the steering wheel.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been like that when she sensed a presence outside the car window. It might have been minutes or it might have been hours for she was in an empty place where time was lost in the weight of the past.

  “Move over.” She heard the voice somewhere in her subconscious, a man’s voice, deep and familiar. A tingle of warmth crept through her veins as she turned awkwardly to see Tom standing by the door. “Move over,” he repeated gruffly.

  Soundlessly, she did as she was asked, gratefully making the transition from driver to passenger in a series of painful shunts. He opened the door and climbed in, sitting down heavily. His face was gaunt and set, staring soundlessly ahead. She wanted to say something, for him to say something, but a heavy cloud of silence settled over them. “Keys?” he eventually managed and when she gestured toward the floor he reached down and picked them up, putting them into the ignition and starting the engine.

  The world outside the car was a fuzzy blur to Ali as they headed through the village and out onto the main road. Sea and sand and sky, buildings, cars and passers-by, all became one intermingled image as the miles sped by. The hospital sign was the first thing she really saw. Bright and bold it sprang out at her, offering comfort from the pain she so deserved... She glanced across to where Tom sat still, his expression unfathomable. Why had he helped her, she wondered, after...? And how had he known?

  “Accident & Emergency is just there,” he said, staring ahead as if unable to look at her.

  She dragged herself from the car and headed for the double doors, leaning on the wall for support. And then he was beside her, taking her good arm and guiding her into the dazzling brightness. The woman at the desk looked up at them with a toothy smile. “Yes?” she said. “Can I have your name please?”

  It was Tom who answered, his tone abrupt. “Her name is Ali Nicholas. She’s hurt her arm.”

  “And you are...?”

  “I just gave her a lift... I’ll leave her with you now.”

  When he walked away without a backward glance Ali wanted to cry.

  * * *

  TOM DROVE ON AUTOMATIC, unable to process the events of the last twelve hours. His mother and younger sister, Lily, had taken the news badly and looked at him with accusation in their eyes. He was the one who was supposed to keep everyone safe and he’d failed. His instincts had warned him not to let Ali go out with them; he’d had enough warnings over the years. Why, just a year or so ago Ricky Biggins, an experienced fisherman and childhood friend of his, perished in a storm—fell from The Peacock and was never found. He should never have ignored his gut feeling and now it was too late...so if anyone was to blame it was he. Ali’s failing was simply ignorance.

  When his dad came home he’d placed a hand firmly on his eldest son’s shoulder. “It’s fishing, son,” he’d said. “And sometimes there’s a price we have to pay for what we do... It’s the sea that’s at fault, not you.”

  Although kindly spoken, for Tom those words had made things even worse. He didn’t deserve pity or understanding, he’d failed his family, but most of all he’d failed Bobby. “No, Dad,” he’d said sadly. “I was in charge and it should never have happened.”

  He’d walked away then from the oppressive silence that hung thick and heavy in the large homely kitchen of The Fisherman’s Inn, through the locked and empty bar and out into the impossible brightness of a late autumn afternoon. There’d been nowhere to go then but home, even though he already knew that his cozy cottage on Cove Road couldn’t provide any comfort this time.

  He saw her sitting in her car as he walked toward his cottage, just two doors down from hers. Ali! She was the last person he needed to see. He’d tried to just walk past the car where she sat so forlornly, looking determinedly the other way...but when he heard a low moan he reluctantly peered inside. She was slumped forward over the wheel, her skin the color of alabaster.

  A vague recollection slid into his foggy brain. They were searching for Bobby, scouring the surface of the raging sea with increasing desperation, when Mike said that he thought Ali might have dislocated her shoulder. It had hardly registered...until that moment. He’d looked again and knew he had to help her.

  Unable to face the hospital where they’d brought Bobby a few short hours ago, he’d intended to just drop her off. But she’d walked so slowly toward the entrance, holding on to the wall for support, that he hadn’t been able to simply leave her until she’d gone inside and seen someone. As soon as the nurse came in he took his leave and fled.

  He’d done what he could, he told himself as he’d driven away. She was in good hands, and if they released her she could easily ring a taxi. He needed to go home, to be on his own for a while to try and come to terms with what had happened. At the moment he felt as if he was living in a fog, a fog that held a nightmare he couldn’t quite face up to.

  He knew that he had to go back before he was hardly a mile away from town; it felt almost as if Bobby was there beside him telling him that he had to help her. She’d looked so shocked and gray and scared that despite what had happened, be it her fault or not, he couldn’t just abandon her. With a lead weight in his heart he swung the car round in the road and headed back toward the hospital.

  Mary, the A&E receptionist, told him to sit down while she went to find out what was happening. She came back after just a few minutes. “She’s dislocated her shoulder and the doctor is with her now,” she told him.

  Tom couldn’t muster a response. He showed no sign of interest or concern. He simply felt detached. The receptionist must have noticed because she peered at him closely and asked, “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Yes...fine.”

  Mary smiled encouragingly, but Tom could see in her eyes that she was alarmed by the lack of expression on his face. “Don’t worry, she won’t be long now,” she said.

  * * *

  THE DOCTORS HAD relocated and strapped her shoulder under anesthetic, and physically, Ali felt much better, but her head was in turmoil. She made her way back into reception with a packet holding prescription painkillers. When the nurse asked if she had someone to take her home and look after her she’d nodded. Bobby’s death was still too raw for her to feel sorry for herself. She could manage on her own.

  Now, though, she wasn’t so sure; how was she going to get home? Feeling weepy and guilty and lost she stepped into the quiet waiting room where rows of people sat patiently...and there he was: Tom Roberts, waiting for her. With an almost imperceptible nod of his head he stood and she followed slowly in his wake, out into the red glow of the evening sun.

  He drove slowly toward Jenny Brown’s Bay, staring straight ahead. Ali knew he couldn’t bring himself to look at her and she understood that. He pulled up on Cove Road, cut the car engine and climbed out. For a moment she thought he was just going to walk away but then, as if he’d thought better of it, he came
round to her door to help her out. His hand on her arm felt cold and tight. “Thank you,” she said but he didn’t acknowledge her gratitude.

  At the door he held out his hand. “Your key?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not locked.”

  The door opened with one push and she followed Tom into the kitchen, where he motioned to her to sit before walking across to fill the kettle at the sink. Neither of them spoke.

  Ali nursed her arm, fighting off another wave of dizziness as the sound of the bubbling water gurgled inside her head. Tom just watched, grim-faced, as the steam rose in clouds, filling the room.

  She wanted to reach out to him, wanted him to know how she felt. “I’m so sorry, Tom...so very, very sorry.”

  He brewed the tea and poured her a cup. When he handed it to her she saw that his eyes were dark with pain. “Sympathy won’t bring Bobby back,” he said. “Nothing will.”

  He left then, abruptly, and she just sat for a while with her mind in turmoil. What now? She so wanted to help, to speak to Bobby’s parents, to talk to Lily...and Ned. But what to say...what right had she to encroach on their grief?

  * * *

  FOR THE NEXT few days Ali hardly set foot outside. She watched Tom walk by the window every day from his cottage two doors down, staring straight ahead, his shoulders rounded. He never stopped though, never even gave her a glance or paused to ask her if she was okay. One day faded into another. She thought about Bobby, dwelled on if-onlys and remembered those pleasant evenings in the pub. She and Tom had chatted about fishing and life. She’d told him all about finding her dad just a few months earlier—that he’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer and how they’d finally gotten to know each other. She’d felt they were almost friends then, she and Tom. She’d even told him about her husband, Jake, not the details of course, just that they were having a trial separation. It had meant a lot to her, their friendship—he realized that now more than ever. But she knew that it could never be the same. Because of her, his brother, her good friend Bobby, was dead. How could either of them ever get past that? And yet he’d taken her to the hospital; she clung onto that thought like a lifeline.