you have.’
Adam looked at the tugboat. ‘Do you know how to pilot one of those things? Because I sure as hell don’t. Lads?’
Bushey and Harry shook their heads.
‘Never been on one,’ added Harry. ‘I hate boats.’
‘Can’t be any harder to drive than a supply truck,’ said Walfield. ‘I’ll have a go.’
Leona looked at the men. ‘So, what are we waiting for?’
They made their way across the dockside towards the vessel, crossed over a small footbridge to the far side of the small lock in which the tugboat bobbed gently, and along the narrow walkway at the bottom of the brewery’s red brick wall, finally hopping aboard the vessel.
Walfield let himself into the boat’s cockpit and examined the small bank of toggle switches beside the helm.
Adam tapped Leona’s arm as she looked on. ‘You sure your mother is going to welcome us aboard? I mean . . . otherwise, we really are sort of left out on a limb.’
She studied him for a moment in silence as Walfield clacked switches and the others clambered aboard. Behind his dark beard, behind skin drawn economically tight against bone and muscle, she saw something of an intelligent young man. She saw eyes that didn’t dart hungrily where they weren’t invited, but instead met hers on the level. She thought she detected someone whose thoughts weren’t on what could be taken, but what could be made.
She imagined Mum would see those things in him, too.
‘You helped me. You’ve got me home safely.’ Leona’s bittersweet smile ached as, for a moment, she’d give anything to be able to have Jacob standing here beside her. How she wished Mum was getting both her children back.
‘She’ll be grateful to you, Adam. Trust me. It’ll all be hugs and kisses.’
He laughed. ‘She sounds nice.’
She grimaced. ‘Ugh, don’t ever call her that. She hates that word. Nice is what you call ice cream, or a paper doily, or fluffy bunny rabbit print pattern. Mum’s . . . well, she’s a pretty tough case.’
For a moment, for the first time in ages, she spared a thought for how Mum was. She remembered, through the cloud of grief she’d been floating in, that Tami had assured her Mum would recover. She was healthy, fit. A tough case all right.
But how long ago had that been? She realised she’d completely lost track of the date, of what month they were in in fact. The trees were turning, the leaves falling. Autumn was just a spit away. Three months? Four, since they’d left?
Would she have recovered?
She’ll pull through. Tough as nails. That’s what Tami had said.
Tough as nails now. But not always so. Leona still remembered a different mum; more rounded with fewer angles. Comforting curves rather than sinews and muscle. A decade ago the hardest thing she’d had to do was argue the toss with the taxman once a year over the details of Dad’s accounts. Or nag Jacob to get a wriggle on and do his bloody holiday homework. Since then, since the crash, she’d earned every single day of their lives; fighting for herself and her children. The first five years she was mother to her and Jacob. The last five years she’d been a mum to several hundred people. If that didn’t make a person harder . . .
‘She’s . . . well,’ Leona cocked her head, ‘she’s pretty forthright. But you’ll see that soon enough.’
He laughed softly. ‘If she’s like you she sounds like someone I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of.’
The tug’s starter motor whined unhappily before the diesel engine caught, coughed and nearly choked before it settled into a rhythmic chug. Walfield grinned, pleased with himself as he held the helm tightly in both hands. ‘Piece of piss.’
‘So then, let’s go home,’ said Leona.
Chapter 78
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
Half an hour out from shore they picked out the platforms on the horizon; like a row of five fat ladies with thick shapeless legs, skirts held up and wading through ankle-deep water for cockles. Walfield opened the throttle and the engine rose a note. They carved across the flat sea, leaving a tail of tumbling suds behind them and Leona’s spirits rose as she began to pick out more and more detail on their approach. Best news of all, she couldn’t see any barges anchored nearby or tethered beneath any of the platforms.
We got here first.
‘Jesus. Much larger than I imagined,’ called out Adam.
Twenty-five minutes later the men were