The Holiday Home (33 page)

Greg and Belinda could hear nothing above the waves and the wind and the engine, but they knew Abi hadn’t landed in the boat. They would have felt the weight of her landing.

It took a moment for their vision to adjust. When they looked up to the rock ledge, now on their left, they saw that it was empty. Greg immediately reached over and turned the engine off. If Abi was in the water, she would be in danger from the twin propellers.

Belinda looked at him, horror etched on her face. ‘Dear God, where is she?’

‘Shut up and listen,’ Greg barked.

There was a faint splutter to their right. Two pairs of eyes scanned the water and spotted Abi’s slight frame, her arm reaching out towards them.

‘Abi!’ cried Greg.

She tried to speak, but a large wave crashed over her, sending her down.

‘Abi!’ Kicking off his shoes, Greg dived into the freezing water.

Belinda could only watch helplessly as Greg swam towards the place they’d last seen Abi.

The waves were getting stronger all the time. With only one good arm, Greg was struggling, unable to keep himself above the surface, spluttering and choking as the sea flooded his mouth and eyes. Desperately Belinda looked around for something that would help. Grabbing one of the boat’s ropes, she hurled it towards Abi.

It fell just short of Abi’s reach and she disappeared under another wave. Belinda scanned the raging foam, willing her to reappear. As soon as she did, she threw the rope again, shouting, ‘Catch, Abi!’

This time it landed within her reach and she caught the rope. Belinda hauled on the rope as hard as she could, dragging the girl towards the boat. As soon as Abi was alongside, she leaned over and grabbed her. Abi was too weak to haul herself up, so Belinda had to hang on for dear life with the waves lifting the boat high and then plummeting down. Just as she thought her strength would give out, the RIB suddenly tilted at an angle that allowed Abi to pull herself into the safety of the boat.

‘Daddy, Daddy,’ she sobbed. ‘Where’s my daddy?’

Belinda looked frantically out into the waves, but in the foaming and crashing water, she could see no sign of Greg.

For what seemed like an age they desperately scanned the water for signs of Abi’s father. The tide was ripping in with a vengeance now, forcing
Abi’s Gale
against the jagged walls of the cave.

Belinda was the first to realise it was hopeless. ‘We need to get out of here, Abi. There’s nothing more we can do. We must save ourselves.’ She had to roar above the storm surge to be heard.

‘No, no. We must find him. We must.’ Abi was still desperately scanning the water. ‘I’m not leaving without my daddy.’

‘But look, the water’s going into the cave. I bet if we go back to the jetty we’ll find him there. Come on, Abi, help me get the boat back.’

Belinda hoped she was right and that Greg had swum to safety. If not, they would have to trust to the coastguards to find him.

*

As the boat pulled into its mooring, an anxious Connie and Pru fell on Abi and held her tightly. Pru had grabbed a warm blanket from the
Dorothy
and she wrapped it around her niece.

‘Where’s Greg?’ said Connie.

Belinda shook her head. When Connie saw the look on her face, she started to wail.

31

A
s the women staggered up the stone steps to safety they were met by a police officer on his way down.

Belinda grabbed him. ‘He’s still down there.’

‘Who?’ answered the police officer.

‘Abi’s father. He tried to save her life.’

‘Is there anyone else unaccounted for?’ Belinda shook her head. ‘OK, I’ll radio for back-up.’

Belinda turned to go back to the cave but the policeman grabbed her.

‘Let me go – he’s still down there. We have to find him.’

‘We will,’ he said, turning her and walking her back out to the garden. ‘You’ve done your bit, love. Now go indoors and get warm. There’s nothing more you can do here.’

*

The moment she saw Abi, Dorothy ran to her and hugged her tight. ‘Oh, thank God you’re safe!’ she cried, leading her towards the Aga. ‘You poor thing, you’re soaked to the skin. We have to get you into some warm things.’

Henry moved towards them but was intercepted by Nick the policeman. ‘There’s an ambulance on the way,’ he said. ‘They’ll take the young lady to hospital, check her over for injuries, hypothermia and water inhalation.’ Noticing that Belinda was soaked as well, he said, ‘You’d better go in for a check-up too.’

‘Oh, Daddy,’ sobbed Connie, ‘Greg is missing. He jumped in to try and save Abi and now they can’t find him – I think he is dead.’

Belinda opened her arms and Connie, her whole body shuddering, collapsed into her embrace. Pru went to them, wrapping her arms around them both.

*

Connie and Pru sat huddled together in the waiting room of A&E while the doctors examined Abi and Belinda.

Pru had got them hot tea from the vending machine and they wrapped their hands around the warm cups, grateful for the heat.

‘I could do with something stronger,’ said Connie.

‘Shame Dad isn’t here, he’s normally got a hip flask, hasn’t he?’ Pru replied.

‘Oh, I think Mum might have put a stop to all that when they discovered his high blood pressure.’

‘Shame.’

‘Quite.’

The two sisters looked at each other and shared a smile of mutual understanding.

‘Con, listen. There’s something I want to say—’

Connie interrupted: ‘No, let me speak first. There’s something I need to get off my chest, something I should have said a long time ago.’ She looked into Pru’s eyes. ‘I really, really regret hurting you. You were right, I knew what I was doing when I slept with Merlin. I was selfish and jealous and I just wanted to get back at you.’

‘Oh, Con.’ Pru held her sister’s hand tightly. ‘We’ve both been so stupid. All these years, at war with each other – and over that moron. Yes, it was an awful thing to do, but I know I was an awful sister to you.’ She swiped away her tears. ‘I should have been grateful to you – I might never have found Francis otherwise. And look at what a treasure I found in him! I’ve been lucky.’

‘Unlike me and Greg.’ Connie shook her head sadly. ‘Deep down, I’ve always suspected something was amiss, all those furtive phone calls at odd hours, the weekends away, the suspect purchases on his credit card. I had my suspicions all along, but I kept telling myself what a good husband he was. And a good father … there’s no denying he worships Abi. Oh God, Pru – do you think he’s dead? It will destroy Abi if—’

‘I don’t know, Con. I just don’t know. I promise you though, whatever happens, we’ll get through this. I’m going to start acting like the big sister I should have been all along.’

‘Actually, you’re not the big sister any more,’ said Connie, smiling through her tears.

Pru looked blank for a moment, then gasped, ‘Crikey, I’d almost forgotten about Belinda.’

‘Mrs Wilson?’

At the sound of the doctor’s voice, the two women jumped up. ‘My daughter – is she going to be all right?’ asked Connie.

‘Well, she’s had a nasty shock and she’s obviously very distressed about her father. Physically, we need to monitor her lungs for any side-effects of salt-water aspiration – sometimes victims of near-drowning can suffer a delayed reaction, so we’ll keep her under observation for a couple of days just to be on the safe side. Other than that, she has a scrape on her face and a broken ankle, but she should make a full recovery.’

‘Will it be OK if I stay here too, Doctor?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He looked over his shoulder as Belinda emerged from A&E. ‘Fortunately your friend didn’t inhale any water, so she’s free to go.’

‘Actually,’ said Pru, ‘she’s not our friend. She’s our sister.’

*

It was 5.32 a.m. when the lifeboat crew recovered Greg’s lifeless body from the sea. The police liaison officer who’d been sent to Atlantic House to keep vigil with the family broke the news. Henry insisted it would be he that would drive to the hospital to tell Constance and Abi the dreadful news on the following morning.

*

The next few days passed in a blur. While Connie stayed at the hospital with Abi, Henry did his best to deal with the funeral arrangements and the police inquiry. Francis and Dorothy held the fort at Atlantic House, cooking family meals and seeing everyone was looked after.

They were just sitting down to dinner one evening, with Francis busying himself handing out bowls and plates, when Dorothy paused, serving spoon in hand, and announced: ‘You know, Francis, I never quite understood your appeal – till now.’

Francis stood, nonplussed, deciding to say nothing until he was sure what turn the conversation was going to take.

‘Mummy …’ said Pru, a warning in her voice.

‘It’s all right, dear, I just want Francis to know that I am delighted and proud to have him as my son-in-law. Now, pass me those wine glasses, would you?’

‘Hear, hear!’ Francis felt the pressure of Pru’s hand on his leg. He looked at her and smiled. ‘Mum’s right, you know. I don’t know what any of us would do without you.’

He blinked and looked at his wife’s smiling face. ‘It’s what husbands do, isn’t it?’

*

After the dinner, while Jem took Emily to watch television in the rumpus room, Henry, Dorothy, Francis, Pru and Belinda remained around the kitchen table, and the topic of conversation returned to the subject of Susan.

‘There’s one thing I still don’t understand,’ said Henry. ‘When your mother told you about me, when you found out who I was, why didn’t you just call me?’

‘It was all too much to take in. I’d been through a lot already – Brett ending our marriage, Mum’s stroke – all within the space of a couple of months. When I found the marriage certificate and wedding photos amongst her things, I was devastated. I’d always thought I was Howard’s daughter.’

‘Howard?’

‘He was Mum’s boyfriend when I was little. They were together for quite a while. It was Howard who set her up with the flat in Pevensey Bay, but he was married so he never actually lived with us. He used to bring me presents and I’d call him “Daddy”. I suppose I wanted a daddy like all the other kids had, and he never corrected me or anything so I sort of assumed it was true.

‘After Mum told me the truth, I looked you up on Google. It was so strange to see your face. I sat looking at my face in the mirror, trying to see if there was a resemblance. I thought about writing to you, or phoning you up. But … well, you’d abandoned Mum, walked out on us. I’d just been abandoned by Brett, I couldn’t face dealing with more rejection. All the same, I couldn’t let it rest, I had to know what you were like … what your other family was like, the one you’d walked out on us for. So I left Eastbourne and rented a house near the Carew factory. Then I met Francis at the school and discovered he was your son-in-law.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘School-gate gossip. Anyway, once I’d found you, Francis, it felt as if destiny was taking a hand.’

Pru shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Belinda turned to her. ‘I’m sorry, Pru. I may have looked as if I was making a play for Frankie. It’s just that he is such a kind person and I was at a bit of a low ebb. Lonely. Can you understand?’

Pru reached out and touched Francis on the arm. ‘Turns out I needed a wake-up call. I’d lost sight of what a good man I had.’

‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Belinda,’ said Dorothy, ‘but how can you be sure that Henry’s your father and not this James fellow?’

‘I’d be happy to take a DNA test.’

Dorothy snorted indignantly: ‘We are
not
the Jeremy Kyle show.’

Ignoring his wife, Henry announced, ‘That will not be necessary. As far as I am concerned I am your father, Belinda. And Emily.’ She looked at him. ‘Would you do me the honour of becoming my second granddaughter?’

*

Second tragic drowning at cursed beach house
, said the headline in the local paper.

It has been confirmed that a man in his forties has tragically drowned in the old smugglers’ cave beneath historic Atlantic House on Treviscum Bay. The victim lost his life trying to rescue his teenage daughter, who had been trapped on a narrow ledge of the cave by the rising tide. By horrible coincidence, the tragedy happened on the anniversary of a previous drowning at the same location: fourteen-year-old Claire Clovelly perished in August 1978 after hiding in the cave following a family argument. Her heartbroken family never returned to the house, which remained abandoned for ten years until it was sold to the current owners.

A horrible trick of fate – or is there something more at work? Local legend has it that a dying smuggler placed a curse on Atlantic House after he was stabbed and left to drown in the cave by the owner, Sir Rupert Trelawney. Sir Rupert was subsequently arrested but released without charge following the intervention of his wealthy friends, who created an alibi for him. He went on to become Member of Parliament for the county, but had served only a month when he was found dead, apparently of a broken neck, at the foot of the stone steps leading down to the smugglers’ cave.

*

Greg’s funeral service was held in Trevay Church.

It was a simple service, touchingly conducted by the Vicar of Trevay, Louise.

Henry paid tribute to Greg’s selfless heroism in trying to save his beloved daughter. Abi, still on crutches, insisted on paying her own tribute. Supported by her grandfather and mother, she said simply, ‘He was the best dad in the world,’ before placing a small but beautifully crafted model sailing boat on his coffin.

32

S
now was falling gently on the churchyard, muffling the footsteps of the small wedding party.

Henry was looking very handsome in a handmade tweed suit woven in the softest of heathery green wool. His black suede waistcoat, snow-white shirt and paisley cravat were Dorothy’s choice.

The bride, wearing an Alice Temperley lace wedding dress in a subtle cream that brought out the colour of her skin and eyes, was carrying a bouquet of mistletoe.