A Home For Her Baby

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 its 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.

It was late afternoon on the fourth day when a knock came at Ali’s door, a knock so intense that it made the door frame rattle. Her heart leaped with hope but anticipation quickly gave way to dismay. Was it Tom? What would she say to him...?

She turned the handle just as the door burst open, almost knocking her over. Stepping quickly back she braced herself against the wall as Ned Roberts appeared in front of her. His face was drawn, his eyes so black with an icy anger that she felt her whole body recoil.

“Happy are you?” he asked, his tone harsh, “Happy that you managed to survive when my brother died. We’ve been making the arrangements for Bobby’s funeral today, you see, and all I could think of was you...living your life. He was just twenty years old with his whole life ahead of him and he’s gone, snuffed out because of you.”

Ali started to shake. “No... I didn’t...I didn’t mean it to happen. It was an accident, just an accident.”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if you’d stayed away from him. Bobby was almost ten years younger than you, little more than a boy, and yet you used his feelings for you to get what you wanted. You should never have gone out on the boat that night. You had no right.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice rising uncontrollably. “I’d do anything to make things different.”

“Well, then, why don’t you start by getting out of Jenny Brown’s Bay and staying away from my family? No one wants you here.”

With that parting shot Ned pushed past her and disappeared out the door. Ali sank to her knees, watching him run off along the shore. Ned was right, Bobby had been little more than boy and that was how she’d thought of him. To suggest that he’d had feelings for her and that she’d used him in any way was so far away from the truth. Closing her eyes tightly against the pain that flooded over her she rocked to and fro. She had to come to terms with this, had to try and understand what Ned was going through. He was just twenty five years old, six years younger than Tom, and he’d lost his baby brother because of her... He had every right to hate her. She’d so wanted to go to the funeral, to talk to Bobby’s parents—and Tom—to help somehow, but maybe Ned was right and she should just leave.

After he’d gone she just sat there, going over and over that awful night, again and again. Ned’s words circled round inside her head. His life snuffed out, because of you...you lived and he died...no one wants you here.

He was right, she realized, trying to pull herself together, everything he said was right. It had all been her fault, and she had no right to hang around sharing the family’s grief. She’d come here, to Jenny Brown’s Bay, with so many hopes and dreams, to finish with her old life and start afresh with new friends around her. Tom had been a friend but, like Ned, he probably hated her now. Not that she could blame him either. Everything had changed, so suddenly and drastically, that it was difficult to know what to think or what to do.

Time ticked by and still Ali sat, her mind a million miles away from the things that had seemed so important just days ago, like the article she was going to write. Her notepad lay unopened on the table and right now she didn’t think that she would ever open it again.

When she heard the knocking at her door, her whole body froze. She couldn’t face Ned’s anger again however much she deserved it; there was nothing she could say to him that might help. When the knock sounded again, more urgent this time, she stumbled to her feet; what if it was someone else. Her hand shook as she reached for the door handle.

CHAPTER FOUR

TOM WALKED SLOWLY homeward along the clifftop, looking down at the stretch of silver sea that sparkled in the distance. Awaiting the returning tide, the wide sweep of sand shimmered, smooth and serene. In fact the whole scene looked so starkly beautiful and totally harmless right now that it seemed impossible to think that within just a couple of hours the sea would come rushing back in, tearing away the tranquility. That’s what he’d always loved about the sea, its changeability. Now he was not so sure. It was in his blood though, an untamable beast that he couldn’t resist, and he could never have a normal life because of it. What woman would want to share her life with constant fear and danger?

Someone moved way below him, across the sand, a tiny, sticklike figure in the distance. Ned, it was Ned. What was he doing... Had he been to see Ali as he’d threatened to so many times? No, surely not, for no matter what his brother thought, there was no peace to be had from displays of anger or laying blame; he’d made Ned see that...hadn’t he?

Increasing his pace he hurried along the clifftop path wondering if he should call in on her, just to make sure she was okay. He’d felt bad for ignoring her these last few days but everything had been too raw for him to be able to face up to the memories that seeing her might invoke. There was something about her that called out to him, a familiarity way deeper than their surface friendship; it had been forged when she was first at The Fisherman’s Inn, when she’d picked his brains about being a fisherman... After Bobby’s death, he found himself questioning his way of life. Fishing was in his blood, his soul, but was it worth the heartache it so often caused? Why, there were ten men he could name who had drowned over the last few years while following their life’s passion, a passion that sometimes seemed cursed. The Sea Hawk’s fateful trip had been cursed, too, that night, cursed by love. For Bobby had been in love with Ali and he’d died trying to save her; how could any of them get past that? There could never be anything between Tom and Ali now that wasn’t steeped in guilt, even friendship, because Bobby was no longer here. Tom needed time away from her, he knew that, time to grieve and time to sort out the confusion in his head.

Despite his determined thoughts as he approached her cottage, Number Three, his footsteps slowed again and doubt set in. She’d been so brave when he took her to the hospital. Her arm must have been in agony but she never even mentioned it. What if Ned really had called in on her; how must she be feeling? For a moment more he stood, indecisive, and then he slowly raised his hand to knock. When the door remained firmly closed, a flood of emotion overcame him, relief and disappointment vying for first place. He knocked again more firmly before suddenly reconsidering his actions. He couldn’t do this. Turning sharply, he headed off into the night.

* * *

ALI PUSHED THE door open gently, peering through the crack into the falling darkness with a surge of relief; no one was there. She’d been so afraid that it was Ned again.

Her phone started ringing with the bright jubilant tone that now sounded so wrong. She looked outside for a moment longer, just to reassure herself, before hurrying to answer it. The screen flashed with the caller’s name—Jake—he was the last person she’d expected to hear from. For a moment she considered just ignoring it. She’d had her say before she left, about fidelity and promises...and yet, the urge to talk to someone outside of this nightmare was strong, someone who knew nothing of the tragedy.

“Hello,” she said cautiously.

“Ali...where are you?”

She actually felt pleased to hear his voice and that was crazy after what they’d been through. “It doesn’t matter where I am... Why are you ringing me?”

“To say sorry...again,” he said. “Look, I know you don’t trust me and I don’t blame you, but I am still your husband... I know I hurt you and I don’t deserve any forgiveness but I love you, Ali. I want us to try again and I really mean it this time... Please, Ali, come home...to talk, that’s all, just talk.”

Her first instinct was to cut him off, but something stopped her. After all, if she was honest with herself she knew that she craved forgiveness herself for what she’d caused, and here he was asking her for forgiveness for the damage he’d done to their relationship. She’d be a hypocrite if she didn’t even listen to what he had to say. “I’ll think about it,” she promised.

“But where are you... You can tell me that at least?”

He sounded so genuine, so caring when she needed to feel cared for. “Jenny Brown’s Bay,” she told him, flicking off the phone.

Hearing Jake’s voice brought back so many memories. They’d been in love once...until she found out that he’d cheated on her, and then love had slowly trickled out of the window. She’d tried to make a go of it, really tried...until the next time. But he was right, he was still her husband, the man she’d promised to love for better or worse. A week ago she wouldn’t have given him the time of day but now her priorities were all over the place. Take her dad for instance. She’d wanted to find him for almost all of her life but when she’d finally gotten her wish it was too late. Perhaps if her mother had been more forgiving, Ali would have had him in her life for a whole lot longer. She wanted, needed, forgiveness herself so perhaps the first thing she should do was to learn to forgive...or at least to listen.

By the time the pale winter sunshine crept through her window on the morning of the fifth day after Bobby’s death, she’d made her decision. She wasn’t wanted in Jenny Brown’s Bay and she needed to get away, at least for a while. Going to see Jake and talk things through might help her focus on what she needed to do now. With trepidation she picked up her phone.