Page 64 of Take Me Away

But I can’t.

My phone rings. Richard again. I actually reach for it this time, desperate for distraction, but something stops me. How can I discuss lighting choices for a Vogue cover shoot while Kit might be drowning?

The thought propels me from the window. Before I can reconsider, I’m pulling on Maggie’s ancient yellow raincoat hanging on a hook in the utility room. It smells faintly of her lavender sachets and sea salt. In the boot room, I wiggle my foot into the wellies, wincing as my foot pulsates beneath the rubber. ‘Fuck. Shit.’ My words echo back at me from the rough walls, only to be swallowed up by a scream of wind that rattles the windows.

The gale nearly rips the door from my hands as I step outside. Rain instantly slaps my face, needle-sharp and freezing. I pull the hood tighter and hobble down the path, my ankle protesting with each step.

God, this is stupid. What exactly is my plan? To stand on the harbour wall watching for the lifeboat? To get blown into the sea myself? But I can’t stay in that cottage a minute longer, pacing and imagining the worst.

The village is eerily deserted, windows glowing warmly behind drawn curtains. Only a madwoman would be out in this. And yet, as I round the corner towards the harbour, I see a flash of light from the Lavender Café.

Nina is there, locking up, a small figure in a familiar yellow rain hat beside her. Maisie.

I hesitate, suddenly unsure. I’m intruding on their family crisis. What right do I have to be concerned? I’m nobody to Kit now. Nobody to his daughter.

But as I’m about to turn back, Nina spots me. ‘Isla!’ She waves through the rain. ‘What on earth are you doing out in this?’

‘I – couldn’t settle,’ I yell back over the wind. ‘How’s Maisie doing?’

Nina gestures for me to come closer, offering shelter under the café’s awning. ‘She’s used to it,’ she says, more quietly now that I’m near. ‘Aren’t you, love?’

Maisie nods, her face pale but composed beneath her rain hat. ‘Dad’s the best on the boat,’ she says with the fierce certainty of a child’s faith. ‘He always comes back.’

Always. Such a dangerous word.

‘We’re heading to the pub,’ Nina explains. ‘Everyone waits there. They’ll radio when they’re on their way back.’

‘Oh.’ I step back. ‘Well, I won’t intrude. I just needed some air.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Nina links her arm through mine so I can lean on her a little. ‘Come with us. No sense in you worrying alone in that cottage.’

‘I’m not worrying,’ I lie. ‘I just⁠—’

‘Yes, you are.’ It’s Maisie who interrupts, looking up at me with eyes too perceptive for her age. ‘Your face is doing the same thing mine does when Dad’s on a call-out.’

I blink rainwater from my lashes. Or maybe it’s something else. ‘That obvious, huh?’

She shrugs. ‘Dad says I notice things.’

‘She gets that from her mother,’ Nina adds gently. ‘Now come on, before we all drown out here.’

I let them lead me towards The Ship Inn, Nina’s arm still linked through mine. The warmth hits like a physical wave when we push through the door – heat and light and the low murmur of anxious conversation.

The pub is packed, though not with the usual Friday night revelry. This is something else. A community holding its collective breath. Faces turn towards the door as we enter, hope flickering briefly before falling again when they see it’s just us.

‘Any word?’ Nina asks Ayo, who’s polishing a glass that doesn’t look in need of polishing.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing yet. Should be soon, though.’

Tilly appears from somewhere, ushering us to a table near the fire. ‘You look half drowned,’ she tells me, her eyes kind despite the worry etched across her face. ‘Tea? Or something stronger?’

‘Tea would be great,’ I manage, conscious of Maisie beside me.

‘Hot chocolate for the little miss,’ Tilly says, squeezing Maisie’s shoulder. ‘With extra marshmallows. Emergency rules.’

Maisie’s face brightens slightly. ‘And sprinkles?’

‘Sprinkles too,’ Tilly promises. ‘Your dad would want you to have sprinkles.’