Bring Me Sunshine Read online

  He wouldn’t mind, Vera thought as she rode the lift down to deck two. She was sure he wouldn’t mind. Especially now that he’d had a good night’s rest. A quick chat was all she wanted. A few notes, while the memory was fresh in his mind and he could tell her what had happened out there. Describe his battle for survival. She also wanted to look in his face and try to understand his feelings. The man had almost died. And in such a way! No one would be left untouched by that. She didn’t want to upset him, but his story was remarkable. This was a rare and precious opportunity that she did not want to waste.

  As the lift settled onto the deck, Vera found herself hoping that William was on duty this morning. That nurse – Anna – had answered when she’d knocked on the door last night. A bit of a bossy one, that one. She had been perfectly polite, but she wasn’t letting anyone through the door unless they had good reason. Perhaps if Vera had been bleeding from a gaping wound she might have made it past the she-wolf on guard and into the sick bay, but she wasn’t even one hundred per cent sure about that.

  If she was going to be totally fair, Vera could admit the woman was only doing her job. Protecting her patient. But surely no one needed protection from a grey-haired little old lady like her. She was totally harmless.

  Vera heard the noise as she stepped from the lift. It sounded like someone sobbing. She looked around but the deck was empty. There were no passenger cabins here. Behind the lifts, secured doors led forward to the staff quarters. To her left was the tender lobby, and the gangway they had used to enter the Zodiac boat for their island excursion. It was tightly closed now, protection against the storm. In front of her was the door to the sick bay, and the stairs leading up to deck three – and the cheapest of the passenger cabins.

  On the stairs …

  ‘Lian! What’s the matter, dear? Are you all right?’

  The girl was seated at the bend in the stairs. Half way between two floors. Her head was buried in her hands, and she was sobbing. Vera reached her in just a few seconds, and placed her hand gently on the girl’s sleek dark head.

  ‘Lian?’

  ‘I’m scared,’ the girl’s voice was muffled. ‘I woke up this morning … and … on the sheets. And I’m having cramps. I’m scared for my baby.’

  ‘You need to get to the doctor.’

  ‘I know. I was … but …’ Lian raised her head and looked up, tears falling unchecked down her cheeks. ‘I almost slipped on the stairs.’

  Vera’s heart went out to the terrified girl. ‘All right. Well I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to you. The sea is really smooth this morning. Look – the deck isn’t moving at all. If you hang on to the rail, and hold my hand, you’ll be just fine.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts,’ Vera insisted. ‘Don’t let this grey hair fool you. I’m a pretty tough old bird. Come on now, we can go as slowly as you like.’

  Lian wiped a hand across her face and got to her feet. With one hand she clutched the stair rail and the other gripped Vera’s hand so tightly, that the older woman wondered for a moment if her frail bones might break.

  ‘There you go. Easy. Now just one step at a time.’ Vera was certain Lian would be fine. Her problem wasn’t physical weakness. The poor girl was just terrified. Vera mentally shook her head in wonder. What sort of parents must she have – if she was willing to face this journey alone, rather than tell them about her baby?

  They reached the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Good girl. I knew you’d be fine,’ Vera said cheerfully.

  Lian nodded. Her sobs had subsided and she was already looking better.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Vera kept hold of the girl’s hand as they walked the few steps to the sick bay door. Vera knocked briskly. She was very pleased to see William’s handsome face as the door opened.

  ‘Hello Vera,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling you might drop by this morning.’ His smile faltered when he looked at Lian’s tear stained face. ‘I think you’d better come in.’

  As they entered the sick bay, Vera glanced quickly towards the patient ‘rooms’ on her right. Sure enough, one of the curtains was pulled half way across the alcove, shielding the person who lay in the bed. She caught some movement out of the corner of her eye as she helped Lian towards the treatment area at the other end of the sick bay.

  ‘Don’t go,’ Lian said tremulously as Vera went to step aside.

  ‘I won’t be far.’ She said. ‘I’ll just wait outside.’

  She looked at William, but her friend had dropped into his professional mode and with a brief nod, he indicated she should give him and his patient some privacy. Vera obliged, and the curtain slid closed behind her.

  Vera moved away from the curtain to give Lian the privacy she needed. And if that brought her a little closer to the bed where the rescued sailor lay …

  ‘Hello.’

  Vera turned towards the voice, which had the rasping timbre of Bob Dylan at his best.

  ‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘Are you all right? Do you need anything?’

  ‘No. I just heard you come in.’

  It was natural for her to move to the centre of the room, from where she could see the man in the small alcove. He was sitting up in bed, and with a gesture, signalled her over.

  ‘I don’t mean to disturb you,’ Vera said, meaning it.

  ‘You’re not. In fact, right now, I could use some company.’

  Vera let the last of her guilt drop away.

  ‘I’m Vera Horsley,’ she said as she approached the bed. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘I’m getting there.’ The man in the bed pulled himself upright and sat back against the pillow. ‘I’m Glen Stewart.’

  In her youth, Vera had nursed a secret passion for Robert Redford, with his shock of sandy blond hair and cheeky grin. She loved his strong jaw, and the way his face creased when he smiled. Glen Stewart’s face was burnt by the sun and wind. In places, the skin was peeling, but he had much the same look. He hadn’t shaved for many days, and there were dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes. But those eyes were a brilliant blue, and despite the tiredness she could see in them, they still smiled at her. In her mental list of heroes, Robert Redford moved down a notch to make way for his lookalike.

  Vera held out her hand, then stopped as she looked at Glen’s hands. They were strong hands, weathered by sun and sea. They were also hands that had fought to live. One was bandaged, with slight stains where something, blood probably, had soaked into the dressing. The skin on his bare arms was burned by the sun and marred by dark bruises and dozens of small cuts and scrapes. Vera began to realise the magnitude of the ordeal he had faced.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you,’ Vera said. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything?’

  ‘No. But if you have a moment, I’d like some company.’

  ‘Of course.’ Vera pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, but she found she could think of nothing to say. She, who had set out this morning determined to talk to this very man, was lost for words. It was something that had happened only rarely in her life.

  ‘So – the doctor tells me you were heading for Antarctica,’ Glen said at last.

  ‘Yes. We detoured when we picked up your distress signal.’

  ‘I’m very glad you did.’ A dark shadow seemed to cloud Glen’s eyes. ‘If you hadn’t …’

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it, you know,’ Vera said hastily, despite the fact that she really wanted to know everything.

  ‘It’s all right. I imagine at some point someone will tell me it is a good thing to talk about it. And I guess they’ll be right.’

  ‘Were you in a race or something?’ Vera asked.

  ‘No. I set out from Perth to sail the Southern Ocean. I just wanted to see it. It was a challenge you see. Me and Peregrine … that was my yacht … against everything the Southern Ocean could throw at us. I guess I lost.’ Glen’s mouth twisted in a wry half-smile.

  ‘I don’t know
about that,’ Vera said. ‘You’re still alive. That has to count for something.’

  When he didn’t reply, Vera asked, ‘How long were you out there?’

  ‘I’d been at sea about three weeks when I got caught in the storm. How many days after that – I really don’t know. Too many.’

  ‘It must have been terrible.’

  ‘It was …’ Glen’s voice trailed off.

  Vera wasn’t sure what she could say or do. The man was obviously deeply affected by his close brush with death. She was still searching for the right words, when Glen spoke again.

  ‘Wait a minute. You said Horsley? Vera Horsley?’

  Vera recognised the tone of his voice. ‘Shh,’ she said. ‘No one knows.’

  ‘No one knows?’ Glen looked amazed. ‘How can that be? If I’d had my wits about me, I would have recognised you straight away. I have all … I had all your books. They are all in Davey Jones’ Locker now.’

  ‘I’ll send you some new ones when we get back,’ Vera said.

  ‘So, tell me, is this a holiday or are you researching you next book? Murder at the Mizzenmast or some such?’

  ‘Actually, I was thinking Buried at Sea,’ Vera said.

  ‘So you’re researching here on this ship,’ Glen said. ‘That’s great.’

  ‘Yes, but no one can know, or they’ll start being strange when I am around,’ Vera said. ‘For some reason, the fact that I’m a crime writer bothers people. They think I am probably a bit strange myself if I can think up all those serial killers and such.’

  ‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Glen gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  ‘And when … if …. you want to talk about your ordeal,’ Vera said, ‘you’ll find me a good listener. I will even promise not to use it in a book … well, not directly.’

  He smiled again.

  Oh, my, Vera thought. He is most definitely hero material.

  ‘Vera?’

  Speaking of hero material, Vera turned back to the handsome doctor who had just emerged from the examination area.

  ‘I wasn’t bothering him, honestly,’ she said quickly.

  ‘I know you weren’t,’ William said, drawing her to one side. ‘It’s about Lian.’

  ‘How is she? The baby …?’

  The baby’s fine,’ said the doctor. ‘But she tells me she and you have become friends of sorts.’

  ‘Yes. She’s a lovely girl.’

  ‘Would you be able to keep a bit of an eye of her for me,’ the doctor spoke in a low voice. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine, but if I know you are there to help her if she needs it … well, I will feel better about her.’

  ‘Of course,’ Vera said earnestly.

  ‘Thanks. She can go now, but she needs to rest.’

  ‘I’ll see she does.’

  ‘And I’ll make sure I don’t tell your secret to anyone either,’ William winked at her.

  ‘William! You know?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ he replied. ‘When you started asking me all those questions, you had to be planning a murder or writing about one. I assumed the latter.’

  ‘Ah … but are you certain?’ Vera tossed her head and waggled her eyebrows. She raised her voice just a little. ‘Now, Lian, my dear. Let’s go find ourselves a nice cup of tea.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kit felt like an intruder. Like death hovering on the edges of the masked ball – or in this case leaning on the bar at the back of the observation lounge. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he quickly sketched a death’s head on a paper cocktail napkin. He was blacking in the area around the empty eye sockets, when he heard her laugh.

  He looked up, searching the crowded room. Jenny was standing near one of the big glass windows. They were so far south now, that darkness was a stranger, and Jenny was framed in the gentle light of a very low sun. She was talking to the elderly lady with the big purple handbag. And standing next to her was the guest of honour. Glen Stewart. The man who had survived that dramatic rescue.

  He looked like a man who had been to the gates of hell and back. His face was gaunt and even from a distance, Kit could see the bruises. People were crowding around him, and Kit could tell from the set of his body, that the man was starting to tire. He was looking around, as if to escape.

  Kit knew that feeling well. Some people seemed to feed on the pain of others. Even well-wishers were exhausting when they wouldn’t leave you alone. And he was as bad as anyone in the room. He too was only here to look at the man who had come so close to death … and fought his way back.

  Across the room, Glen turned and their eyes met. For a few seconds, their gaze held, then Kit looked away. The habit of hiding had become ingrained. He picked up his pen again, just to give himself something to do. This time the sketch was a small yacht … with a wave towering above it. The wave was shaped like a hand, fingers outstretched like claws trying to grasp the yacht.

  ‘That’s actually pretty much what it felt like.’

  Kit slowly lifted his eyes from the sketch. Glen was standing beside him, his empty glass in his hand.

  ‘You must be glad it’s over,’ he said, taking refuge in platitudes.

  ‘I am,’ Glen signalled the barman for another glass of water. ‘Although I am beginning to think facing this crowd is almost as bad.’ Glen smiled to take the sting out of his words. ‘I may have to punch the next person who asks me what it felt like out there.’

  Kit looked at the man’s tired eyes. That’s not what he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask what had driven Glen to fight so hard to survive. Was there a wife or a child somewhere waiting for him? Was that what drove him on? Love? How much love did you need to fight that sort of pain? And if the love wasn’t strong enough …

  ‘This is really good, you know,’ Glen said, lifting the sketch from the top of the bar for closer inspection.

  ‘Keep it,’ Kit said. He turned away. He had to get out of here before someone came looking for Glen – and found him as well.

  Kit stepped through the door, letting it shut behind him. The ship was in smooth waters now. Despite the delay to their journey, they would reach the ice tomorrow. All the passengers would go ashore. But not Kit. Tomorrow he must do what he had come to do. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘Look at this,’ Glen appeared at Jenny’s side again, holding a white paper napkin out for her inspection.

  She froze as she saw the drawing.

  ‘Oh, look,’ Vera plucked the napkin from Glen’s fingers. ‘It’s another of those drawings. Is your mystery man here?’

  Jenny turned her head towards the bar. ‘I can’t see him …’

  ‘I think he left,’ Glen said, retrieving the napkin. ‘You know … This is rather good. I think I will keep it as a souvenir.’

  ‘Sorry, I have to go,’ Jenny said.

  Vera looked at her and raised a single eyebrow.

  Glen put his hand on her arm.

  ‘Jenny, it was good to talk to you. You know, I am moving into the crew quarters.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Jenny was surprised. ‘Into the crew quarters?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t stay in sick bay. They might need the bed for someone who is really sick. The passenger cabins are all full. But I was told one of the lecturers didn’t come – so their cabin in the crew quarters is free. That’s where they are going to put me. So, we’ll be neighbours.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Jenny said automatically. ‘If there’s anything I can do, let me know. But, sorry, I have to go now.’

  Realising that she was being almost rude, Jenny pushed her way through the lounge and out the doors. At the stairs she hesitated. Down one flight was the luxury cabin where her mysterious friend lived. But she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be there. She headed for the top deck.

  The wind was icy as she stepped outside. But she was right. There was a solitary figure standing by the railing.

  She started toward him, and then stopped. What was she thinking? If he wanted to talk to her, he would have done
it at the party. He was obviously a man who enjoyed solitude and here she was behaving like some stalker. Not only that, he was a passenger; and not just any passenger. He had the biggest, most expensive cabin on the ship. And she was just a first time lecturer. She could lose her job over this. Not that they were likely to throw her off the ship mid-ocean. But it still wasn’t …

  ‘Hello, Jenny.’

  ‘Hello, Kit.’

  ‘This is getting to be a habit.’

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ Jenny said, feeling flustered. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude.’ She started to back away.

  ‘No, please stay.’

  He turned to look at her and she could see an indescribable need … a hunger in his eyes. But not for her.

  ‘Please.’ Kit said again, ever so softly.

  ‘All right.’ She stepped up and took a position beside him, her hands on the rail and together they stared out over the ocean.

  The twilight was soft and although the ocean looked as cold as it no doubt was, it appeared far less threatening than it had just twenty-four hours earlier.

  ‘There’s no sign of our friends, the albatross.’ Jenny said.

  ‘With so much of the world to explore, we really can’t expect them to stay with us.’

  ‘I guess not. But it was lovely to watch them together like that.’

  For a long time Kit remained silent. Jenny was beginning to wonder why, when at last he spoke again.

  ‘Glen seemed to be enjoying the party.’

  ‘I guess after a close call like that, it feels good just to be alive.’

  ‘I imagine it does. I saw the two of you talking. Has he said much about what happened?’

  ‘Not a lot. He got caught up in the storm. He was doing all right until a freak wave smashed his boat.’ Jenny stopped talking for a minute, her mind redrawing the image of Glen’s face as he’d answered questions about his ordeal. ‘He said there were times he thought he was going to die …’

  ‘But he kept fighting.’

  ‘Yes, of course he did,’ Jenny said. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  For a very long moment, there was no reply. Jenny felt a strange fear deep inside her. She looked across at the man standing with her at the railing. ‘Kit? You would have kept fighting … wouldn’t you?’