‘Anyway, I’m babysitting for Sonny tonight so I’ve got that to look forward to.’
‘He’s no bother, lovely lad.’
‘He is, Nan. I guess I’m just a bit out of sorts.’ She was about to explain how Petra had come in to order take-out and how it had made her feel, when the sound of the front door being flung open and hitting the wall caused them both to turn. Tawrie’s heart thudded as Uncle Sten ran in, flustered and breathless, his cheeks flushed. ‘Oh God, them bloody steps!’ He fought to catch his breath, bent double as he addressed the floor, his hand over his heart. ‘Glad you’re both here. It’s Annalee ...’
The panic to his tone was enough to make her stomach drop to her boots. That and his manner of entry lit the touch paper of long-forgotten memories. It happened this way sometimes – snippets of the very worst day came back to her quite vividly.Things she had overheard as she sat on the sofa wrapped in a crochet blanket, trying not to eavesdrop on the adults while her heart beat fast and her tears refused to come. Feeling like she should be crying but not knowing how.
RNLI crew are still out looking but they’re losing light...
They’ve found his boat. . .
Oh good Lord, they’ve found his boat...
Nothing. No sign of him...
The spar was flapping about, untethered and it were proper windy...
They reckon he’s gone overboard...
The light’s fading, they’ll resume the search at daybreak.
Shaking her head from these memories, Tawrie turned to face her uncle.
‘What’s happened, is she ... is she okay?’
He stood upright and she saw that his face carried a look of pity.
‘I’m not sure, love. She’s fallen down the stairs that go down to the Harbour Beach. Her head’s proper gashed and her teeth are in a state. Her face is a mess. I said I’d run her up to the A&E but there’s an ambulance on the way, which is probably best. Reckon you should come too. She’s not on her own, she’s with the gang from the pub. They brought her up to the top of the steps.’ He panted as his breathing settled and he made for the front door, as if time was of the essence.
‘They shouldn’t have moved her.’ She tried to digest the information that came thick and fast and knew this much to be true. Her world moved in slow motion as it occurred to her that she might have lost her mum.
Sten raised his arms and let them fall as if it were literally out of his hands.
‘I’m coming.’ Freda reached for her soft suede bag that carried her essentials like phone, purse and mints.
‘No, Mum.’ Sten spoke softly. ‘We don’t know how long we’re going to be at the hospital and it’s better you’re here. Don’t want to take over the place, do we?’
‘I guess not.’ Freda looked less than happy with his suggestion. ‘But if you think I’m not coming down there to offer comfort or help in any way then you’d be wrong, son.’
‘Fine.’ He nodded as he turned to Tawrie. ‘You ready, love?’
‘Yes,’ she managed, her voice sounding strangely disconnected. ‘Can you let Con know?’
Her nan nodded.
‘Mum, we’ll run ahead, take your time, don’t want two falls on our hands.’
‘I’ll be fine!’ Freda snapped as Tawrie followed her uncle down the steps at speed and quickly passed the entrance to Ropery car park, where to her mortification she spied Ed climbing into his silver dream machine. Petra was ensconced in the passenger seat. Not that Tawrie had time to think about it. At least he was taking her advice and sodding off back to London. It was one less thing to worry about, knowing she wasn’t going to bump into him any time soon.
‘We’ve brought her up to the top, Sten!’ Calvin, one of her mother’s drinking buddies, called out, as they rounded the back of the closed café and made their way across the cobbles to the harbour wall where the stairs were steep and the drop long. Tawrie sped up as she spied her mum lying on the ground. There was a small crowd gathered around her and someone had placed a rolled-up anorak under her head as a makeshift pillow. Elbowing her way through, she dropped to her knees and smiled into her mother’s face. Her mother who was bashed and bleeding, but very much alive. The relief was palpable.
‘Hey, Mum. You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.’
It was shocking to see her face up close: her lips and eye were badly swollen, and her hair was stuck to her forehead with blood, which also ran from her nose. It was distressing and horrifying in equal measure and Tawrie felt the iron jaws of disgust and duty clamp around her throat, even as her heart flexed with sadness at the pitiful sight.
Her mother was shaking and Tawrie whipped off her hoodie, leaving her in a t-shirt, as she wrapped the thick top, still warm from contact with her skin, around her mother’s body.
‘Let me through!’ Her nan bustled through and sat on the floor on the other side of her daughter-in-law. ‘You listen to me, Annalee Gunn’ – Freda spoke through a mouth contorted with tears – ‘you get yourself better, my girl, cos there’s only four weeks till the Gunn Fire and we need you in top form, do you hear me?’ Her voice was reed thin over vocal cords pulled taut with distress.
