Bring Me Sunshine Read online

  ‘A graveyard?’

  ‘Yes. I keeled over right next to a grand marble mausoleum. My poor husband thought I’d died. It was so unlike me to faint in such a fascinating place.’

  ‘You husband is …’ Lian wasn’t quite sure how to frame the question.

  ‘Gone? Sadly, yes.’ Vera anticipated her. ‘Five years ago now. Heart attack.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  For a few seconds Vera’s eyes clouded over and the ever-present smile dimmed just a fraction. The she took a deep breath. ‘I do still miss him you know. We were married for more than forty years.’

  ‘Wow.’ Lian was impressed. ‘That’s wonderful.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it was,’ Vera said. ‘And it will be for you too, my dear. Don’t you worry.’

  Lian nodded, surprised to find her fear had faded. They sat in silence for a few minutes as the boat continued its brave struggle into the storm. Every few seconds, the deck heaved and tossed beneath their chairs, which were securely bolted to the floor.

  ‘I am beginning to understand the way they’ve decorated this place,’ Vera finally said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, these chairs, with the high sides. Without them, we’d be tossed on the floor every few seconds.’

  At that moment, a sudden burst of brilliant white light exploded in the sky directly in front of the ship.

  ‘What was that?’ Lian asked, blinking.

  ‘A flare,’ a voice said as Jenny staggered up and sat down next to them. ‘One of ours.’

  ‘Have they spotted him?’ Vera asked.

  ‘Not yet. But we’re close to where he should be. That’s why they’re sending up flares. Hopefully he’ll respond.’

  ‘What happens then?’ Vera asked.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure.’ Jenny stood up. Her injured wrist was still strapped, but with the other she took a firm hold on the back of her seat for balance and raised her voice to address all the assembled passengers.

  ‘As you have probably worked out, we’re getting close to the yacht’s expected location,’ she told the silent room. ‘Can I ask you all please to stay here in the observation lounge. Don’t go out on deck. Apart from the fact that it’s dangerous out there in these heavy seas, our crew need to focus all their efforts on that yacht. We don’t want to have to go fishing for passengers as well.’

  The last line brought a small laugh.

  ‘How are they going to save him?’ someone asked.

  ‘They’re experienced seamen,’ Jenny said. ‘They’ll know what to do.’ She dropped back into her chair.

  ‘I hope so,’ Lian said softly as she stared out through the glass at the angry ocean.

  Chapter Eleven

  Was death out there – among the waves?

  Kit gripped the railing with both hands, struggling to remain upright as the ship heaved beneath him like some dying leviathan. Freezing windswept water stung his face, but it was impossible to know if it was the driving rain or the spray from the waves that crashed across the bow of the ship every few seconds. He shouldn’t be out in the open. Even in this most sheltered spot on the top deck, surrounded on three sides by a high glass wall, he wasn’t safe. One freak wave; one unexpected movement of the deck and he could be lost – as lost as the tiny yacht that was out there somewhere in the raging ocean. Only a fool would stand here. A fool or a man with nothing left to lose.

  He should join the other passengers in the warm safety of the viewing lounge. They were so caught up in the drama of the rescue attempt, they wouldn’t recognise him. They probably wouldn’t even notice him. But he just couldn’t do it.

  Had it come to this? That he would rather stand alone, freezing and in danger than face other people. If so, he was already lost.

  The Cape Adare was struggling in the mountainous seas. It was early afternoon, but the threatening dark clouds were so thick and low, they obscured the sun, leaving the ship in grey twilight. An hour ago, in one of his regular updates, the captain had informed his passengers that the storm was abating. If that was true, it was doing it very slowly. The captain had also said they were still receiving the distress signal from the yacht. That meant it was still afloat. Was the crew still alive?

  At that moment, the sky above the ship exploded with a white light so bright, it almost hurt to look at it. The Cape Adare had sent up a flare. If there was anyone alive out there in that cruel ocean, they would see it. Kit held his breath.

  The ship lurched suddenly, and Kit slipped on the wet deck. Only his knuckle-white grip on the railing kept him from sliding towards the edge of the deck, and the turbulent ocean beyond. He hauled himself back to his feet, and as he did, the sky burst into light again. But this time, the light was red – and distant.

  Someone on the crippled yacht had set off a distress flare.

  The Cape Adare was heaving so greatly in the sea, it was impossible to see if there was anything out there as the flare slowly fell back towards the hungry waves. It vanished, and Kit wondered if the chance of a rescue had vanished with it. He stared out into the raging water.

  There was something out there!

  Wiping water from his eyes, Kit looked again. It was gone … no. A rising wave lifted the Adare and not too far away, Kit saw a pale shape slide down the face of the next wave. It was the yacht – but barely recognizable. The mast was gone. A shattered timber stump was all that remained. The deck of the little sailing boat was littered with the remains of the rigging and railings, torn and twisted by the sea. But, clinging desperately to the shattered remains and totally at the mercy of the wild water, was a man. He was dressed in a bright orange survival suit, his safety harness the only thing stopping the waves from claiming him. But that safety line posed a danger too. If the boat sank, the man would be dragged down with it.

  A huge wave crashed over the yacht and it vanished. Kit gave an involuntary yell as the man was swallowed by the dark grey water. He strained forward then saw the little yacht bravely claw its way out of the wave, the man still clinging to the remains of the mast. The boat was very low in the water. It didn’t have much time left.

  Something moved on the deck of the Adare. Kit glanced down. Four seamen were on deck, struggling towards the bow of the ship, their lifelines trailing behind them. They gathered around what looked like some sort of harpoon.

  There was no sound – but Kit saw the rope snake out towards the crippled yacht. Kit strained to see where it fell. The man on the yacht held up one arm … signalling failure. The seamen on the Adare swung into action, preparing a second line.

  Such a struggle for survival. Such determination.

  Kit’s throat caught. Had Dana struggled to survive? Or had she welcomed the darkness as an end to her pain? Could he have saved her if only he’d found her in time? He would never know …

  The second lifeline shot towards the crippled yacht, and Kit saw the man in the survival suit lunge for it. As he did, the little yacht ceased its slow climb up the rising wave. It shuddered and began to slip backwards. The battle was over. The time left to the man on the yacht could be measured in seconds. He fumbled with the rope.

  Kit held his breath, willing the man to keep fighting. Don’t give in, he wanted to shout. Don’t let the darkness take you. Keep fighting.

  As the little yacht began to slip stern first towards the ocean floor, her captain flung himself into the wild water.

  An audible gasp filed the observation lounge.

  ‘He’s gone overboard!’ someone said in a voice that quivered with something approaching panic.

  ‘Did he get the lifeline?’ someone else asked.

  Jenny didn’t know the answer. Like the passengers, she was glued to the life and death struggle that was all too clearly visible from the observation lounge. Most of the passengers had been grumbling about the storm, and complaining about their own discomfort – until they had caught that first glimpse of the tiny yacht. In silence they had watched it battle for life. When the fig
ure in the bright orange safety suit had staggered on deck – it suddenly became all too real. A man was dying out there. They were his only hope.

  On the deck below, Jenny could see the crewmen, themselves wearing safety lines, hauling on the lifeline that vanished over the side of the ship into the heaving water. She looked out at the raging sea. How could anyone survive in that?

  ‘Is that him?’ someone cried, pointing out into the water. ‘I saw something orange. It must be him.’

  If it seemed like an eternity to those watching, how must it feel to the man in the water? Jenny felt a hand grip hers. Safe in the high-sided seat beside her, Lian was trembling with anxiety. Vera was beside her, staring out into the ocean. For once, her pen and notebook were nowhere in evidence. A tense silence settled in the room, as everyone held their breath …

  ‘Look!’

  On the deck, the seamen were hauling an orange clad figure through a gap in the railing. A couple of people started to cheer, but fell immediately silent as the seamen lowered the motionless figure to the deck. The seamen stepped back.

  ‘William.’ Vera said quietly as the doctor bent over the stricken man. For a few seconds nothing happened and a terrible dread settled on Jenny. They had come too late.

  Then there was a flurry of movement on the deck.

  ‘He’s alive. I saw him move!’

  This time the cheer was deafening.

  Two of the seamen below lifted the man from the deck. The small group vanished from sight into the ship.

  Chapter Twelve

  The mood in the lounge was exuberant. The Cape Adare was rapidly drawing away from the storm. The ocean outside was far from smooth, but compared to the previous twenty-four hours, it was a millpond. No one had fallen over or dropped a glass for at least half an hour. But better than all that was the news that the rescued sailor was doing well. A short time ago, the captain had announced that their new guest was recovering from his ordeal. He’d be in the sick bay for a day or two under the doctor’s care, but would soon be up and about. The captain had thanked everyone for their understanding and patience.

  Jenny glanced around the room, noting the animated faces and lively conversation. It wasn’t just that the pre-dinner cocktails were flowing. It was as if everyone felt a little pride at what their ship had done. As if they had played some small part in the rescue. And why not, she thought. That was a totally understandable and human reaction. There was, of course, one person who wasn’t joining in. The mysterious passenger from cabin 642 was nowhere to be seen, as usual. Jenny wondered if he even knew about the rescue. He must. The whole ship knew. Not even someone who sought solitude could have ignored the event.

  Perhaps tonight, now that the seas had dropped, she would go to the upper deck. While most of the passengers were celebrating after dinner, he might just …

  ‘Hello, dear,’ Vera’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘It’s good news about that poor man.’

  ‘It certainly is Vera,’ Jenny replied.

  ‘I wonder when he’d feel up to talking to me,’ Vera said thoughtfully. ‘There are so many questions I want to ask him. About what happened. What it was like out there.’

  Jenny felt a flash of something approaching annoyance. While she found Vera refreshingly quirky, she doubted the rescued yachtsman would feel the same. ‘I imagine he probably doesn’t want to talk about it …’ she started to say.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Vera said firmly. ‘People who set out on adventures like that always want to talk about it.’

  Jenny wasn’t so sure, but she was prevented from commenting by the dinner bell.

  ‘Are you coming to dinner?’ Vera asked.

  ‘Soon.’ Jenny said.

  ‘If William is there, he may have some news about that poor man’s condition,’ Vera remarked as she set off in the direction of the restaurant.

  Jenny watched her go, shaking her head. She wished she could remember what it was that made Vera seem somehow familiar. Whatever it was, thinking about it wasn’t going to bring it back. Nodding hello to a few other passengers who were also heading towards the restaurant, Jenny made her way to the internet café. Now would be a good time to send that e-mail to her family. To admit she wasn’t coming to Christmas dinner. She also had to confess about her job. But she’d do that in person when she got back.

  She took a seat and logged in. She opened a new e-mail and stared at it for a few seconds before putting her fingers on the keyboard to begin typing.

  It took her several attempts, but at last she hit the send key. That done, she decided she needed a bit of fresh air and headed upstairs to the open deck.

  As she stepped through the door, the chilly wind grabbed her jacket and tore at it, threatening to pull it from her body. It was cold, and the storm wasn’t giving up easily. Jenny considered going back to her cabin for some warmer clothing, then decided against it. After what that poor sailor had been through, the least she could do was handle a bit of a cold wind. A freezing wind, she corrected herself a few seconds later as she pulled her light jacket closer around her. She looked towards the stern. There should be some shelter behind the ship’s funnel.

  There was, and Jenny found herself enjoying both the solitude and the fresh air. The white tipped waves swirled in the ship’s wake. Above her, the storm clouds were beginning to scatter, creating a kaleidoscope of black and blue and violet and green as they raced before the wind. Every few seconds, a shaft of sunlight would break through, only to be swallowed up again as the clouds swept on. Jenny took several deep breaths of air, colder and cleaner than any she had ever tasted before. Perhaps the spectre of death that had hovered so close just a short time ago had heightened her perceptions – but she could feel and taste and touch the beauty all around her.

  The clouds directly above her suddenly parted, allowing a broad band of golden light to stream in from the sun above. In the midst of that beam of light, two shining silver shapes soared above the restless surface of the water.

  ‘Wandering albatross,’ Jenny whispered.

  The birds rode the wind with ease and grace, their great wings stretched wide to guide their flight. Jenny held her breath, waiting, but the albatross had no need to flap their wings as lesser birds do. In perfect synchronisation, they rose and fell with the wind, perfectly at home riding the invisible waves of air.

  Jenny felt tears prick her eyes as she watched them.

  ‘At length did cross an Albatross, through the fog it came; as if it had been a Christian soul, we hailed it in God’s name.’ The deep voice quoted Coleridge softly beside her.

  Jenny didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. She was as aware of his presence as the birds soaring above her were aware of each other. She didn’t speak, nor did her companion.

  The birds drew closer to the ship. Jenny could almost imagine her own reflection in the dark soft circles of their eyes. And behind her, another shape. A tall dark figure complementing her, as the two great birds did each other. Wingtips almost touching, hearts beating together, the two albatross lifted effortlessly back into the sky.

  ‘The wandering albatross can fly for years without returning to land,’ Jenny said. ‘They mate for life. Imagine that, just the two of them, alone on the ocean. Needing and wanting nothing else.’

  ‘How lonely it must be when one is left behind.’

  He spoke so softly that she barely heard the words, but the pain, the immense sadness and loss in the sound of his voice made her breath catch in her throat. Jenny dragged her eyes away from the birds to look at him. He was staring out over the ocean, his face a mask of pain. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Her hand had barely begun to move, when he spoke again.

  ‘I wonder if any of them ever get a second chance.’

  ‘I’m sure they do,’ Jenny replied softly.

  ‘It would seem to be a betrayal of the first …’ She knew he wasn’t talking about the birds any more.

  ‘No one who truly loved would want to see their loved o
ne alone.’

  The passenger from cabin 642 turned away from the birds, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked down at Jenny. She felt his grief wash over her. She took his unresisting hand in hers.

  He started at her touch. Jenny didn’t let go. She held his hand until he nodded slowly. In the sky above them, the two albatross wheeled and turned away from the ship and the two people holding hands as they watched them go.

  The clouds closed out the shaft of sunlight, and Jenny shivered.

  ‘You should go back inside,’ she was told. ‘You’re not dressed for this.’

  ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘No. I’ll stay a few more minutes.’ He was better protected against the cold in a heavy woollen jumper.

  Jenny nodded and reluctantly turned away. She had taken only a single step, when a voice halted her.

  ‘By the way, my name is Christopher Walker. People call me Kit.’

  Jenny glanced back. He was smiling, but it was the saddest smile she had ever seen.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Kit.’ She turned away and left him standing in the shelter of the tall grey funnel.

  Kit felt the silence and solitude close in around him once again. Was she right? Could there be a second chance for him? And if so …

  He allowed himself to feel a small flare of hope. Soon they’d be through the worst of the weather. As they approached the great southern continent, the sea would turn glassy, and he’d be able to unpack the rest of the boxes in his cabin. For the first time, he felt a twinge of impatience. His fingers itched to feel the smooth wood again. Each time he closed his eyes, colours and shapes swirled in the darkness.

  It was time. He could feel that it was time. The sea was still too rough for him to work properly. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a start. He turned away from the ocean and began to almost run across the deck towards the stairs that led to his cabin, and those packages that held the best of him.

  Chapter Thirteen