from when she’d last been here, little more than a child then, watching the launch of the Susan Ashley as part of the Spring Fete, a celebration of winter passing and the promise of calmer waters. But the smell was unchanged: the scent of sea and brass, old rope, the gentle hum of the ocean underfoot. It felt safe, and strong. Elizabeth could remember seeing Tom at that fete, dressed in an oversize yellow wax jacket and a hat too large for his head, which kept slipping over his eyes. He was climbing the ropes, hauling himself on deck, along with a vast number of other kids who were there to celebrate. Tom’s father was a volunteer then, part of Coxswain Nicholas’s crew. Yet she could remember her own father making a comment, something about the Hale boys being as troublesome as their father. Elizabeth had thought it looked as if Tom was enjoying himself, his little brother Daniel too. Everything changed for the Hales after he died. Everything, she supposed, except her father’s opinion.
How much time had passed before she heard the door to the lifeboat station open? His feet on the steps? She was so lost in thought, she had missed his boat coming in. Tom appeared, wearing a blue sweater, worn and pulled at the cuff, a little large on his frame. His hair was wet, like it had been last night, falling in wavy clumps across his forehead. With feet as heavy as lead she stumbled from her chair, feeling awkward and clumsy as he arrived.
“Old Man Cressa said you were looking for me,” he said, seeming confused. “Everything all right?”
Her fingernails pressed into her palms as she clung to her satchel, taking a step forward. “Yes. I just wanted to say thank you for what you did. You risked your life and saved my mother’s.” While she had been talking to Old Man Cressa she had seen the seaweed tarnishing the beach, the driftwood that had washed up in last night’s storm. It must have been a squally sea into which he had chosen to throw himself.
“And I’d do it again if the need arose.” He stepped out of his waders and went to slip his feet into his shoes, only to realize that they belonged to her father. “I’m sorry,” he said, motioning to the brown brogues. “I was intending to return them.”
“It’s okay. He doesn’t wear them.” Her satchel hung heavily between them as she offered it to him. After a moment he stepped forward and took it.
“What’s this?”
“Your clothes. I dried them for you.” In the early hours of the morning when she couldn’t sleep, she’d gotten up and hung them over an airer in front of the dying fire in the drawing room. Now they smelled faintly of soot. He took the bag and peered inside, before pulling them out and tucking them under his arm.
“Thank you,” he said. He set them down and knelt to lace his shoe. “How is your mother today?”
“She’ll be fine,” she said, trying to soften the edge of mistruth. Lying to Tom felt awkward after what he’d done. It was a strange feeling to her, that disconnect in her loyalties; it was impossible to tell Tom the truth without betraying her family, and yet despite that understanding she found herself wanting to tell him everything.
“That’s good then. But you know, it wouldn’t have mattered to wait to return these.” He motioned to his clothes. “It’s chilly out this morning. I reckon summer’s nearly over. You’ll catch a cold.”
“Well, it’s just that I was hoping to get you alone.” He smiled at that, appeared surprised. “Oh,” she said, realizing the implications of what she’d just said, feeling heat flood her face. “I didn’t mean it like that. No, honestly,” she said when he began laughing. “I’m engaged to be married.”
He looked down at her hand, becoming mock serious. “I don’t see a ring. Doesn’t seem like a fair arrangement to me, to agree to marry somebody and not get a ring. Especially if the man is a doctor.”
A sense of disappointment washed over her, the realization that everybody knew she was supposed to marry James. She liked him well enough, but the truth was that while she’d been quite impressed by his stories about London when he’d first arrived in Porthsennen, now that she’d heard all those, sometimes twice, she wasn’t sure what there was left that she liked so much anymore.