Sea state, p.2
Sea State, page 2
A small blonde woman, dressed in black and crying softly, stepped forward.
‘Doug,’ she said quietly.
Doug looked up at her. His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head. He struggled to form a sentence. ‘Anna … I … I’m … I’m sorry …’
She smiled at him and reached up a hand to touch his face. ‘Doug, it wasn’t your fault, everyone knows it wasn’t your fault. No one thinks it was. You mustn’t blame yourself. He wouldn’t have wanted that. He loved you, you were his best friend. He would have walked through fire for you.’
Tears streamed down Doug’s face, but he made no effort to wipe them away. He kept shaking his head, looking down at his feet.
‘Doug. Gavin will always be with us. He’ll always be part of you.’
She placed a gentle hand on his face, wiping away a tear and walked away, following the coffins.
Doug stood there, huge sobs silently wracking his body. Behind him, Claire was walking away from the crowd in the opposite direction, laughing into her phone.
Doug arrived at the harbour as the coffins were being lowered into the back of the hearses. He was out of breath, and black spots were dancing in his eyes and clouding his vision. He was still fighting back huge waves of nausea.
The crew were still with heads bowed. They fell into line behind him. Doug looked up the high street that stretched up towards the church and wondered whether he would make it up the hill.
The hearses moved slowly as they climbed the high street. Doug promised himself he could die later if he could just get through the day.
People lined the streets and standing respectfully to the side as the funeral procession passed by the shops and restaurants in the town. Some muttered condolences and prayers, some sobbed for lost friends, and some threw flowers onto the slow-moving cars.
To Doug, the road seemed endless.
Doug wanted a drink and then he wanted to either sleep or die. He didn’t care which came first. He was vaguely aware of being in his RNLI truck.
‘Skip … Wakey, wakey.’ Mike shook Doug’s arm gently as he swung the truck into Doug’s driveway.
‘Thanks, mate.’
‘I’ll bring the kids in,’ Mike said. ‘Come on you two. Your palace awaits.’
The two kids yawned and climbed out of the truck. Doug struggled towards the front door, digging in his pocket for his key, while juggling his crutches. He opened the front door and turned to wait for the kids. Jude was bleary eyed. At eleven, he was tall for his age with light brown curly hair and his father’s very light blue eyes. Christy was small and petite for eight, with bright blonde hair and the bright cornflower blue eyes of her mother.
Mike stood for a moment on the doorstep, handing the truck keys to Doug. The kids waved at Mike and disappeared into the dark house. Doug turned to the kids. ‘Straight up and into bed, OK?’
The kids shuffled upstairs.
Mike gestured to the dark house. ‘Mate, where’s Claire? You shouldn’t be on your own with the kids in your state. Do you want me to stick around?’
Doug smiled gratefully, thinking what a great bunch of lads he had on his crew. ‘She’s at work. I’ll be fine. I can always call Nessie next door. Thanks for everything today. I was proud of you all.’
Mike started to head out of the drive ‘Call me if you need anything? It’s no trouble.’
‘Don’t you want to take the truck?’ Doug called.
‘Nah, I’m good, I’ll call in tomorrow, see how you are.’
‘Night, mate,’ Doug called.
Doug entered the kitchen and leant his crutches against the worktop. He opened the fridge, the light brightening the dark kitchen. Doug tutted as he saw the contents. Milk, a small packet of cheese and a sliced loaf. Taking out his phone he called a number while staring into the fridge. The phone went straight to voicemail.
‘Claire, it’s me. So, it’s nearly nine. Hope you’re OK. Let me know when you might be home. I’m hoping you’ll have eaten.’
Doug slammed the fridge door shut. He picked up a bottle of whisky from the worktop, grabbed a glass and sat painfully down at the kitchen table in the dark. Silence pervaded the kitchen apart from the gentle hum of the fridge.
He stared at the bottle for a long time, lost in his thoughts. Slowly he unscrewed the cap and poured out a measure, his hand shaking, liquid splashing over the side of the glass. He drank deeply. Then he leant forward, his head in his hands, and huge silent sobs wracked his shoulders.
He was drowning. Again. The darkness. The panic. The black water closing in. Can’t see a way out. Lungs bursting. Screaming underwater, no one to hear. Thumping and pushing at an immovable object, there’s no way out. Panic. Can’t see them, can’t get to them. Can’t save them. No time, no time! The white light. Game Over. Time’s up.
Doug awoke in a panic, the norm since the accident. He lay in bed, breathing hard, gulping in air like a man trying to stop himself from drowning. He lay with his eyes closed trying to regulate his terror by listening to sounds outside the bedroom.
He gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed. His limbs felt like lead.
The bedroom door opened, and Claire appeared, in a navy blue and white dress, her short blonde hair immaculate as ever.
‘You look absolutely dreadful.’
Doug acknowledged her words with a nod. ‘Didn’t think you were here.’
Claire inspected her watch and tutted. ‘I’m not. I’m just going. The kids are sorted, so I’m off. I assume it all went well yesterday? I couldn’t bear it anymore, so I left before the church service.’
‘I noticed.’
‘So, it went off well then?’
‘It wasn’t a fucking wedding, Claire. What time did you get in last night?’
Claire inspected her face in the mirror, touching her perfect hair. ‘It was this morning. I grabbed a few hours on the sofa as you were thrashing about here, and I can’t abide that. You looked like you were having dreams. I think you should speak to someone. Douglas? Are you listening?’
‘Someone?’
‘Not me obviously,’ Claire said.
‘Obviously not,’ muttered Doug.
‘You know, someone that knows what they’re doing, poking around in people’s minds – ughh can’t stand the idea myself, I much prefer surgery – cut out the problem and be done with it. So, you’ll do it … today?’
‘Do what today?’
‘You know, speak to someone, sort yourself out.’
‘Sort myself out?’
‘Don’t look at me like that, Douglas. You need to get your head back in the game. Stop moping around.’
Doug stared at her, not really believing what she was saying. ‘Moping around?’
‘Don’t be obtuse, Douglas.’
Doug heaved in a breath and struggled to stand. He faced her, his face like thunder, his wolfish blue eyes cold with anger.
‘Claire, I’ve been home from hospital for two days. Yesterday, I buried two of my closest friends. My best friends, whose deaths were …’ His words caught in his throat. ‘Their deaths were my fault and I have to live with that … knowing that. They died because of me. Does that even register with you?’
Claire tried to answer, but Doug held a hand up to silence her.
‘So, Claire, apologies if you think that the funeral yesterday was “moping around”. I’m letting you know it might just take me a few more days to get my head back in the game. If this doesn’t fit in exactly with Dr Claire Brodie’s prescribed quick-fix recovery plan, then I apologise in advance. As for my mental health, I’ll go at my own pace and not be pushed into anything because it suits you and your busy schedule. Am I being clear enough?’
Claire opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. She turned and strode towards the bedroom door where she stopped and faced Doug.
‘You should be a little more gracious in accepting help and support, Douglas, when it’s offered. I’m going to work, I’ll be late. Don’t wait up. I’ll drop the children off. You can sort them out later; it’ll give you something to do. Stop you moping.’
Her heels clattered as she stomped angrily down the wooden stairs. Doug heard the front door slam and sat back down on the bed wondering what the hell had just happened and what he had done for her to be so angry with him all the time.
Eighteen Months Later
Chapter 3
Jesse crunched the gears of the Luton van, chuckling at how everybody seemed to let large white vans out at junctions. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, a rare thing these days. She tickled the ears of the border collie next to her.
‘Nearly there, boy,’ she said lovingly, as he licked her hand.
‘Here we go. Number 12.’ She pulled the van over. ‘Come on.’ She opened the door and he jumped down and followed at her heels. She fished a key out of her pocket and opened the bright blue front door of her new home.
Jesse stood in the kitchen and surveyed her work. She was pleasantly exhausted. Hopefully, it meant she’d sleep and not dream. Most days she tried to wear herself out so she would fall into a dreamless sleep, but every now and again the dreams returned. They crept in like an unwanted prowler and shook her to the core.
The kitchen and the dining room were unpacked; her bed was made upstairs; everything else could wait. She picked up a small box from a kitchen chair and saw the corner of a photo frame. She pulled it from the bubble wrap. Jesse and a blonde-haired woman were laughing together and the writing on the frame said. Best friends forever’. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘Miss you,’ she whispered.
The microwave dinged. She gently placed the photo on a shelf. She dumped her meal out onto a plate and sat down opposite two large glass doors which opened out onto the garden. She ate watching the birds dart in and out of the trees.
She put her plate in the sink and enjoyed the feeling she could wash it up later – it didn’t have to be done now, this minute, dried and put away to avoid an argument. She looked at the dog who sensed a question. He turned his head on its side and pricked up his ears.
‘Walkies?’ she asked softly.
The dog rushed off down the hall and returned with a lead hanging from his mouth.
‘Come on, then,’ she said, grinning.
Dusk was settling in, leaving a chilly nip in the spring air. She stood by the castle that overlooked the town. The harbour was bustling with activity; lights were on in the pretty coloured houses that stretched up the hill and along the cliff tops. A group of teenage boys in canoes were being bossed about by a woman with red hair. She was in a canoe, calling instructions to them as they arrived back in the harbour, with a few of them capsizing their small boats while trying to get out.
Jesse moved around to look down at the lifeboat station and sat down on a bench. The dog jumped up next to her. She placed an arm around him and pulled him close.
‘Fresh start here, boy, this is home now … for a while anyway.’
She watched two men leave the RNLI station. One was older, she guessed early sixties, with close cropped grey hair, a tan-weathered face and a slight limp. The younger man was in his late thirties or early forties, with dark blond hair and an attractive tanned face. He was tall and fairly lean. He was talking. The older man threw his head back and laughed, clapping the younger man on the back. Jesse watched them as they walked around the harbour. She assumed them to be part of her new crew. Suddenly she was nervous about meeting them all and being the new girl. She felt the panic rising in her chest; the dog, sensing her change in mood, nudged against her. Her hand went to him automatically and she stroked his soft ears, feeling the process relax her. She had to begin again. A new life. She couldn’t go back. Didn’t want to go back. Too many memories. Too much darkness.
Night had fallen while she had been lost in her thoughts. Jesse rose from the bench and walked through the streets, now almost deserted. The dog trotted quietly beside her. She cut down a small alley, stopping abruptly at the sound of a door slamming and a bottle smashing. Jesse’s heart thumped, terrified instantly by the noise. She moved from the shadows and began walking again, faster this time. She unlocked the door to her cottage and quickly bolted the door and double-locked the latch. She felt ridiculous to be frightened like this. She was angry with herself. The dog pawed her leg as if to remind her he was there, and she slid down, back to the door to pet him, burying her face in his soft fur.
‘It’s OK, boy, we’re safe here.’
I see her in the distance. I see her carrying boxes into the small white house with the bright blue door. She’s healed well. The scar looks good. I like it … WE like it. The dog is at her heels all the time, he’s new. She must have got him when we lost her. Now we’ve found her again. We are very happy we’ve found her. We thought she was lost. She looks well. Healthy. This is clearly home now. She struggled with the big stuff on her own, but she persevered, we like that too … they used to call it gumption. We watch her slam the blue front door and climb into the van with the dog sat beside her. We see her pull away slowly, and we pull out to follow. Not too close … not too close.
Chapter 4
Doug had decided he was going to say something. Enough was enough; he couldn’t be walking on eggshells every day. He knew they’d drifted apart since the accident. She seemed so distant, so angry, so … he searched for the word as he drove … so absent, that was it. Time for action, he thought, as he pulled into the driveway. Time to mend and build bridges.
He pushed open the bedroom door and watched Claire with amusement as she angrily dried her hair and muttered. She threw the hairdryer down and selected a pair of earrings, not noticing Doug in the doorway. She started to apply make-up, swearing as she watched the clock.
Doug strolled into the room smiling. He wore a navy RNLI polo shirt and jeans. His forehead sported a large scar, but he looked healthy and well.
‘Hello, how was your day?’ he asked amiably.
Claire glared at him in the mirror. ‘You’re late!’
Doug looked surprised. ‘Hello to you too. Is there a problem?’
‘Did you get my message?’
Doug looked blank. ‘Message?’
‘Jesus bloody Christ. WHAT is the point of you having a bloody mobile phone if you never use the bloody thing?’
Doug looked confused ‘Sorry, it’s been a bit of a busy day, I haven’t had a chance to check …’
Claire said with contempt. ‘Oh please, Douglas. You don’t know the meaning of the word busy …’
This wasn’t what he had hoped would happen this evening. He took a deep breath.
‘What was it? The message?’
Claire rolled her eyes. ‘I said I had a function tonight in Carmarthen and an early surgery tomorrow morning, so I see no point in coming home later.’
Doug opened his mouth to say something, and then changed his mind.
‘Nope, no point at all.’
Claire glanced at him suspiciously. ‘What? What is it? What were you going to say?’
‘I just …’
‘Good God, just what? Just what?’ Claire said impatiently, rolling her eyes.
Doug sighed. ‘I just thought it would be good to talk … you know, sort of re-connect.’
‘Talk? Re-connect? She laughed mockingly. ‘Who on earth have you been talking to?’
Doug shrugged. ‘We never … you know … talk, spend time together. I just get a sense we need to. We don’t see each other that much, the kids are noticing … I … want to try—’
Claire interrupted him. ‘I see, so it’s my fault for working too much, is it?’
Doug ignored her comment. He persisted calmly. ‘So, I wondered whether perhaps we should go out, you know, have dinner or something. Talk about things.’
‘What things exactly?’ Claire asked in a dangerous tone.
‘Things. Us. The kids.’
‘Go out to talk about you and me?’
‘And other stuff …’
Claire placed her hairbrush down very precisely on the dressing table. ‘Oh, there’s other stuff is there? Such as?’
‘I just think we could do with a bit of time out together. It might be nice. Make the effort, you know, like those days when it was us against the world?’
‘Are you suggesting I don’t make the effort?’
Doug frowned. ‘No … Claire.’
Claire sighed. ‘OK. If you insist, I’ll look at my schedule and see what I can do.’
She picked up a wrap and small handbag from the dressing table. Doug caught her wrist as she drew level with him.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said softly. ‘Look, I just want to spend some time together, that’s all.’
‘OK, I’ll look at my schedule. Of course, all of this “effort” and “re-connecting” will be completely redundant if you get a shout, won’t it? That’s the thing that takes priority over everything, isn’t it? Almost not worth bothering in a way, is it? Cut out the disappointment. The children need feeding by the way, I haven’t had the time.’
She left Doug standing in the bedroom looking annoyed, half wishing he hadn’t bothered.
Doug’s pager buzzed insistently on the bedside table. He dragged himself awake and sprang into action. He frowned at the empty bed, then remembered that Claire was away. He threw on jeans and a polo shirt, shoved his feet into a pair of Dude deck shoes and quietly slipped down the stairs. A gentle knocking on the front door made him smile. He opened it to see a white-haired lady standing on the step, clutching a knitting bag.
‘I heard the pager,’ she said. ‘Figured missy wouldn’t be here so I’ll sit with the kids and get them up and out if you’re not back.’
Doug dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Nessie, they broke the mould when they made you. You sure?’
‘Away with you. People to save.’
‘I’d be lost without you.’
