Page 117 of Take Me Away

Kit stirs then and blinks at where we are. For one blissful moment there is only awakening and confusion on his face, and then it clouds, crumples, breaks my damn heart in two. ‘Dad? Have they found him?’ His voice is raw, and it’s obvious it hurts to swallow. Salt water will do that. I remember it from the day of our first kiss, before Kit washed it away with a warmth I’d never known before.

‘No, son, not yet.’

Kit struggles from the armchair. ‘I’m going out to help.’

‘Kit, it’s the coastguards’ job now.’

But he’s pulling on his jacket. His skin is so pale, I think he might collapse on the spot. ‘Kit, please.’ I step closer, closer to the smell of salt water and heartbreak.

His gaze goes right through me. ‘I’ve got to get out there.’

Reuben glances over at me, a small shake of his head. ‘Maisie, love,’ he calls up the stairs, ‘come on, we are going to mine and then seeing Tilly at the Ship.’

She slips down the stairs and gives Kit a hug that’s almost ferocious, arms wrapped tight around his waist. Absently he palms her hair.

‘Come on, girl, let’s go and get Uncle Jude.’ Reuben steers her towards the door, another quick glance flicked in my direction. The glance says, Don’t let Kit out there.

When they’ve gone, Kit’s just staring at the photos hanging on the wall, ones of him, his wife and Maisie. I swallow. It hurts like I’ve been to the bottom of the ocean. ‘My love,’ I whisper, pulling on his arm.

He blinks. Once. Twice. ‘My love?’

I step closer, winding myself into his arms. They hesitate and I push myself closer, desperate to feel him, for him to feel me. ‘Always.’

He drops his head to mine and a wild sob wrenches out of his throat. ‘I shouldn’t be here, Isla. I shouldn’t be here.’

‘But you are. And I’m grateful for that. Grateful for Peter.’

And so we stand, marooned on an island of guilt and grief with me just holding our heads above the water.

Eventually his hold relaxes, and I lean up and kiss the dark beard on his jaw. ‘Let’s get you in the shower and look at these cuts and bruises.’

I think he’s going to argue, but he lets me lead him up to the bathroom and switch the shower on. I hold in my gasp as I find his chest black and blue, an angry purple bruise on his right thigh. I lay my hand over it, gentle, like I can magic it away.

‘I hit the rail as I went over.’

I nod, lifting my hand back up and brushing his tangled brown hair from his forehead. ‘I’ll give you some space.’

‘Don’t leave.’ Firm fingers clutch around my arm.

‘I’ll stay here.’

His gaze meets mine and it’s burning, deep and twisted. Whatever he wants to say, though, stays buried beneath the surface and he gives me a simple nod. I sit on the closed toilet lid while the shower runs. When it finally shuts off, I hand him a towel and help him back out of the shower unit. The steamy air is thick with a spicy-smelling soap, but I’m sure I can still smell sea salt under it all. He goes to pick up a pair of jeans, but I stop him, plucking them from his fingers.

‘Bed, Kit. You need to rest.’

His mouth opens but then closes again and he lets me lead him to his room, where only yesterday morning life seemed so very different.

He gets under the covers, not a stitch of clothing, while I settle on top, lying close by his side.

‘Why is your room white when the rest of the house is so colourful and blue?’

His eyes are closed but I watch the long lashes flutter open, and listen to the sound of his sigh. ‘Because it reminded me of Jess and the life we weren’t going to have.’

His arm falls to my waist, anchoring me tight, and we hold one another, but after his breathing has settled into something rhythmic and calm, I stare at the ceiling and a tear slides down my cheek, followed by another. But who I am crying for I’m no longer sure.

I find Nina in the back kitchen of the café later that morning. She’s not crying. She’s not talking. She’s chopping onions.

Dozens of them. Whole bags scattered across the counter. The air stings with them – thick and sharp, making my eyes water the moment I step inside.