A Season for Second Chances(107)

Annie could hear someone crying quietly, and it took her a moment to realize it was her. She began to shiver then, the full force of the cold coming home to her. Her sodden clothes hung heavily; her feet, swimming in cold seawater inside her boots, didn’t feel like they belonged to her at all. Tears stung her windburned cheeks and her nose was running. She fumbled in her pocket and found a damp tissue, blowing her nose with fingers so stiff with cold they could barely obey her commands.

Across the way, Gemma was sobbing uncontrollably into Maeve’s shoulder; Maeve held her tightly and though she made soothing noises, her face was grim, staring out to sea. Annie shook herself mentally. She wouldn’t believe they had drowned. She wouldn’t. Until the lifeboat found a body, there was hope.

The sound of a car engine behind her dragged her from her thoughts. She turned to see Sally leading an ambulance slowly along the shingle toward Saltwater Nook. As Annie made to climb back up the beach to tell her the news, something bumped against her shin. Annie looked down to see that Alfred’s rucksack had washed up beside her. For a moment, she almost lost her composure. The pressure of not letting herself give in to the grief hammered inside her head.

She looked out across the water and let the freezing wind whip at her face. She took in a lungful of the frigid air and pushed down the panic. She picked up the wet, heavy bag, telling herself she would dry it out for him to give back to him later, and then made her way to where John’s clothes lay in a sodden heap. She picked them up, repressing the urge to hold the coat to her face and breathe in the smell of him. With arms full of her missing friends’ belongings, she tramped back up the beach to where Sally sat on the promenade above, the wind buffeting her while she watched the lifeboat as it bounced above and dipped below the waves, methodically scouring the seemingly empty ocean.

Annie threw the clothes, boots, and rucksack up onto the promenade, but her own clothes were so water-laden she didn’t have the strength to heave herself up. She motioned to Sally that she was going to head to the steps along the way, when one of the paramedics thrust out a hand to her. The other, a woman wrapped in a dark green waterproof coat, offered her hand too, and between them they hauled first Annie, then Maeve, and finally a still-tearful Gemma up onto the promenade.

“Any news?” asked Sally.

Annie shook her head. Sally looked up the beach.

“Where’s John?” she asked, and then her gaze fell upon the clothes strewn at her feet. “Oh,” she said. “Oh no. Oh God no, he didn’t?”

“He did,” said Annie.

The four friends held hands and watched the lights from the lifeboat sweep jaggedly over the waves and up the steep cliff peninsula.

“Who lives there?” asked the male paramedic.

“I do,” Annie replied absently.

“We could have a wait yet, and it’s not good for any of you to remain out here in wet clothes. Can I suggest we go in? I’ll make us all tea, if you point me in the right direction.”

“He makes an excellent brew,” added his partner.

“I need to stay here and wait,” said Annie.

“The outcome won’t change whether you’re out here catching pneumonia or inside warming,” said the female paramedic with gentle but firm frankness.

“You’re right,” said Annie, gathering herself mentally. “Maeve, help me open the shutters. If we keep the lights low, we can watch from inside. I’ll get scissors.”

Annie opened the café door and hurried off to find scissors. Gemma scooped up John’s and Alfred’s belongings, and they headed into the café, Sally and the paramedics filing in after them.

Gemma sat herself down at the long window bench, and Sally pulled up beside her, taking her hand in both of hers and rubbing it. The paramedics—Georgina and Mark, as they introduced themselves—made small talk as they made tea and kept up a positive but idle commentary on the café and location. Annie guessed they must be expert at filling empty air with friendly noise to soothe people, and she was grateful for their presence. Maeve stood waiting at the door.

“Here.” Annie slapped a large pair of scissors into Maeve’s outstretched palm. “I had to secure the locks with cable ties. You’ll have to snip them. I’ve got more ties in my pocket if you think the cabin hooks will need extra securing.”

“Got it,” said Maeve, and the two women went back out into the storm and began to undo all the work Annie had done earlier. The lifeboat had broadened its search; Annie got outside in time to see it heading around the other side of the peninsula. Without the lifeboat’s powerful beams to cut holes in the darkness, the night swallowed the cliff and the meager light from the car headlamps only dimly lit the beach and the ever-encroaching tide.

The wind was so strong that Annie and Maeve had to work together on each window, taking a shutter each and securing it back with the cabin hooks and cable ties to be safe. As they opened the last set—Alfred’s window—they were greeted by the forlorn faces of Gemma and Sally staring past them.

“Better turn the headlamps off,” said Maeve grimly. “They’ll be draining the batteries.”

Maeve went to her car and Annie to John’s. As she pulled open the door, the smell of John’s aftershave washed over her and for a second she was winded by her fear for him, but she swallowed it down and leaned in to switch the headlamps off, thrusting the beach into a darkness that felt oppressive and hopeless.