He wipes a strand of hair off his forehead and grins. ‘Soyou’reClemmie?’
The whole harbourside has been yelling my name. I could swim out to sea or maybe, just maybe, it’s time to own up. ‘Yep, I am.’ I need to make my position clear here so I stick out my chin. ‘If you’re here for the flat I’m not giving it up without a fight.’
Joe squints at the sun. ‘I’m not here for fights or flats, all I want is to hand you something.’
The surprise takes my force away. ‘That’s why you jumped in to save Diesel?’ If it were anyone else, I’d want to hug them. For that alone I’ll speak to him.
He shrugs. ‘That bit had nothing to do with you. Diesel could have been in trouble, I had to check he was okay.’
We’re in the middle of the harbour, we’re soaking. Any guy who has just jumped in without a thought to help my favourite dog can’t be so bad. Maybe it’s time to come clean.
I sniff. ‘Actually, I think I’m your sister.’ I’m kind of pleased we’re already dripping, because for some weird reason there are tears sluicing down my face.
He laughs and pats me on the shoulder. ‘And, finally, hi, Clemmie, I’m Joe. I can’t tell you how good it is to meet you at last.’
I’m laughing and crying at the same time, because it’s so huge and at the same time it could be any other meeting. ‘Back at you, Joe.’ The surprise is I mean it. After fighting against this for what feels like my whole life, now it’s happened it’s less awful than I anticipated. Two sentences in, Joe’s like any other normal laid-back guy who’s jumped into the harbour. It sounds like a cliché, but it’s almost like I already know him. I’m also looking around at the crowd of people on the shore and on the boats, all of whom are still dry. ‘You do realise we’re the only two who were mad enough to jump in after Diesel?’
He lets out a laugh. ‘It must run in the family. I’m used to fishing dogs out of harbours, we’ve got Portuguese Water Dogs at home. One sniff of salt water, they’re in.’
I’m biting back my smile. ‘I’ve already heard about your dogs.’
There’s a note of disappointment in his voice. ‘I hope Plum left something for me to tell you.’ Then he’s beaming back at me and grimacing, like he’s got the same ‘can’t stop smiling’ thing I have. ‘Hey, you’re shivering. When we get back to land you will be okay if I make my delivery?’ His eyes narrow slightly, and there’s a hesitant note in his voice.
My teeth are chattering. ‘Try me, and I’ll let you know.’ However euphoric I am because we saved Diesel, I’m not totally unguarded.
He pulls a face. ‘I’ve got it in my pocket now. Which means it’s much wetter than it’s meant to be.’
I can’t help laughing. ‘That sounds like my kind of stuff up.’ Obviously, the ginger genes and the frowning genes aren’t the only traits the Marlows have donated to me.
The corners of his eyes are crinkling. ‘Come on, you’re cold, shall we swim back together, then we can dry off?’
If someone had told me six months ago I’d be swimming across St Aidan harbour with my half-brother, balling my eyes out, I wouldn’t have believed them. But there again, if they’d told me I’d be making espresso roulade I wouldn’t have believed that either. Life takes you to places you never plan to be. And sometimes you have to forget the enormity and go with it.
31
On Plum’s deck
Making waves
Sunday afternoon
‘As icebreakers go, they don’t get much better than jumping in St Aidan harbour.’
This is Charlie summing up that I’m finally talking to Joe. He’s here with us on Plum’s decking rather than onGone with the Windbecause somewhere along the line he also hurled himself into the water. He was too late to save Diesel but was ruled ‘too wet to make the voyage’ and didn’t want to delay the departure while he nipped home for dry shorts. Which was an excuse he borrowed from me. There will always be another outing. And even though I’m not telling him, I’m pleased he’s here for backup because he’s a natural at handling tricky situations
It was Charlie who suggested we come straight to Plum’s for cake, coffee and drying out, whispering something about neutral territory at me under his breath. Plum’s hardly neutral when it comes to Joe, but I get what Charlie means. Seaspray Cottage is where all our dry clothes are but he’s right when he says we need to check what Joe’s here for before we invite him round.
After bumping into Joe in the harbour there’s a feeling that this whole long-lost family meeting couldn’t get any more surreal. But then Charlie, Joe and I end up plundering Plum’s rag bag for dry clothes so it does. Due to the heat of the afternoon the guys reject an assortment of ripped boiler suits and end up in paint-splashed shorts and ragged shirts while I’m in a spotty pyjama play suit Plum’s – much bigger – younger sister accidentally left behind on her last visit. Things to like about that are the Topshop label, and that it’s wide enough to cover a multitude. The other good news is I’m re-united with my strappy platforms. So, thanks to some passing sea scouts who came to the rescue and fished them out of the harbour at least my legs are back to normal length again.
While Plum and I make coffee, Charlie and Joe go two doors up the hill to raid the glass cabinet at the bakery and buy the entire stock of strawberry tarts. We sit out on the decking, looking out at the sun glittering off the turquoise dapples of the bay, brushing the cream and pastry crumbs off our chins. And in my case shaking my head to test I’m actually here and it’s real. It’s the strangest sensation of being hugely momentous and completely normal all at the same time.
I have to comment. ‘Diesel must be feeling embarrassed about earlier; he hasn’t dived straight on the tart plate.’
Charlie laughs. ‘You noticed he didn’t give a damn when I rowed off across the harbour, but the second you pushed off he went ape?’
There’s an obvious explanation for that. ‘That’s because I’m the woman with the cake.’
Charlie shrugs. ‘It’s more about total devotion than sponge; he knows if he flashes those dark brown eyes at you now, he’ll crack you in two seconds max. Although I suspect he thinksherescuedyou, not the other way around.’
