Page 109 of Take Me Away

‘What kind of engine fail?’ My voice is tight, fraying around the edges. My knees go weak. ‘So he’s not part of the rescue? He’s the one in need of rescue?’

Reuben nods. ‘Launched ten minutes ago. Jude’s on her. Peter and Tom too. Cal will steer him back, I know he will.’

Maisie’s voice slices clean through the noise. ‘He promised he’d be back for tea. He said the three of us would have tea together.’

I walk over to her and kneel until we’re eye to eye, rain still dripping from my hair. ‘Your dad doesn’t make promises lightly. And he doesn’t break them.’

‘Except this storm is really, really big.’

I don’t have a good answer for that. She’s not wrong: the windows of the Ship are rattling. It makes me realise that yesterday’s rain and wind was just the warm-up act. I pull her in to me, hold her close. She’s shaking. Or maybe I am.

Nina steps over and slips a blanket around both of us, and I meet her gaze.

‘Come on,’ she mutters. ‘We need to believe in something, don’t we?’

The minutes stretch into an hour. Every new gust of wind draws eyes to the windows. Every crackle of the radio pulls the room taut.

I join the silent rotation that’s formed – people moving back and forth to the bar for refills, to the windows to check the sky, and to the radio for updates that don’t come. The rhythm of collective vigil.

‘Do they have a location?’ I ask Reuben when I find myself beside him again.

He nods. ‘Last known coordinates from the beacon. But in this?’ He gestures to the window. ‘Everything shifts. Currents, visibility, time. The Mary Jane could be half a mile from where the beacon dropped by now.’

‘Could she stay afloat?’ The question feels like swallowing glass.

Reuben’s face goes blank – that deliberate neutral look fishermen wear when they’re calculating odds they don’t like.

‘She’s a good boat,’ he says finally. ‘Kit keeps her sound.’

Not yes. Not no. Just facts.

‘And Kit’s a good swimmer,’ Bill adds from behind us. ‘Saved you enough times, Isla, if memory serves.’

I know he’s only trying to help. But those rescues were in summer – when the waves were just big enough to be exciting, and the worst I’d suffer was salty sinuses and a bruised ego when I realised I could stand up and touch sand. This isn’t the same. This is a fishing boat with engine failure in a Force 9 gale. This is Kit fighting for his life in black water.

This is different.

Another fisherman cuts in. ‘Pulled me out of the drink two summers back when we hit that reef. Boy swims like he’s half seal.’ The man nods like this makes everything okay.

It doesn’t.

It’s nearly an hour before the radio crackles.

We all freeze. Even the fire seems to still.

‘Ayo, turn it up,’ Reuben barks.

The whole room leans towards the radio like it’s holy as Ayo cranks up the volume.

A voice comes through, thin and fractured, but I know it’s Jude’s. ‘Sea Salt Bay – this is RNLI Six-One-Delta. We’ve got two – repeat – two in the water. Peter’s gone in after Kit. Last known position logged.’

A sound breaks out of me – something raw and cracked and not okay.

The pub erupts.

Nina drops her mug. Someone swears. Pretty sure I can hear someone offering up a Hail Mary.

I clutch at Nina’s arm. My mind is screaming, so loud it drowns the sounds of the pub. ‘What does that mean?’