CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE TAWRIE GUNN

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T AWRIE G UNN

14 S EPTEMBER 2024

Tawrie raced up the steps towards Signal House.

‘Here she is! The birthday girl!' Freda shouted from the kitchen where she stood at the countertop, preparing marshmallows on sticks for the Gunn Fire. Connie was at the table, sipping tea.

‘Here she is! Off to see the bloody world and leaving her poor cousin in the lurch!' Connie winked over the rim of her mug.

‘So I take it Nan knows.' Tawrie narrowed her eyes at the girl she loved and who would make a terrible spy, what with her inability to keep anything secret.

‘Nan does indeed.' Freda busied herself at the sink, a surefire clue that she was hiding her emotions and trying to be brave; it tore at her heart.

‘I was coming to talk to you now. I forgot that my cousin was the human equivalent of the North Devon Gazette . So what do you think, Nan?' she asked quietly.

‘I think it's marvellous, little maid! I'm so very proud!' Tawrie and Connie exchanged a long look as Freda dabbed at her eyes with her pinny.

‘We all are, Taw, and I'm not at all bitter about the fact that you'll be off figuring out how to deliver all them babies you harp on about, while I'm stuck with Gaynor and Jan, farting around! But it's the right thing, love.'

‘I'm always going to be there for you, Con, and you, Nan.' She meant it; the prospect of starting her new career, however, filled her with excitement. With forms filled out and a place on offer, it felt like her adventure was just beginning. ‘And I'm not thinking of going that far, only Exeter.'

‘I know that, you daft cow!' Connie tutted. ‘Mind you, with only one half-decent road, you might as well be in the wilds of Scotland – there ain't no quick in and out of Ilfracombe.'

‘True that.' Freda smiled at her weakly, recognising that even if she were only in Exeter – an hour and a half away on a good day – it was very different from having her here at Signal House.

‘How's it all going? Anything I need to do?' She realised time was marching on and there were only a few hours until the celebration at Rapparee Cove.

‘Nope. Needle and I have built the fire. He's gone off to get the beer. Bar table is all set up, flaming torches are positioned and I've dumped enough cushions and blankets down on the sand that Rapparee looks like an open-air Ikea!'

‘Sounds perfect.' She felt the first flicker of joy at the prospect of the party.

‘It's gonna be a cracker!' Her nan, it seemed, was similarly looking forward to it.

‘Is Mum upstairs?' She pointed overhead. ‘I need to talk to her. I need to talk to her urgently.'

‘About going away?' Freda asked.

‘Yes, but something else too. She ... she loved my dad, didn't she?'

‘She really did, love.' Freda looked out of the window, a little overwhelmed. ‘She went out about an hour ago. Try the King Billy maybe?'

‘Thanks.'

She had just turned to leave when Connie called out, ‘Well, don't keep us guessing, how did it go with the wanker-named blow-in?'

As she tried to think of what to say and how to say it, her face broke into a smile that spoke more than any words. Harriet's biased assessment and their meeting in front of Verity earlier had filled her with something very close to peace. Whatever happened, whether Ed and she shared a future or whether she was able to wave at him in the summer when she was home from college, she knew that either way, it was going to be okay.

‘Oh, bloody hell!' Connie slammed her mug on the table in utter disgust. ‘I can't deal with that smug, happy face all day; it's enough to make me puke! I've told you before, think miserable thoughts and start frowning a bit.'

Tawrie could feel the love in her cousin's ribbing.

‘Leave her alone, Con! It's our birthday!' Her nan shoved a couple of marshmallows into her mouth and danced around the kitchen.

‘It is that. Happy birthday, my lovely.' Connie winked.

‘I'm going to find Mum.'

‘Are you going to be all right?' She saw the concern in Freda's face, which was comical despite her tone as her voice was muffled by marshmallow.

‘I am, Nan. I really think I am.'

She took a second to capture the image in her mind: this cosy Gunn collective in the chaotic kitchen, knowing that when she headed off to pastures new, it'd be gatherings like this she would miss the most.

‘Looking forward to tonight?' Uncle Sten shouted from the open window of his truck as it crawled past her on Fore Street.

‘Yep! Have you got your dancing shoes on, Uncle Sten?'

‘Dancing shoes? I don't need no dancing! It's all about the four Ps Taw! The four Ps!' He chuckled and drove on towards the quay.

The King Billy was quiet; Needle was behind the bar.

‘All right Taw? Just nipped in to sort the beer for tonight.' He rubbed his hands together. ‘We've built one hell of a fire!'

‘Oh, we have, have we?' She smiled.

‘I reckon I'm winning her round.' He looked like a child at Christmas. ‘I spoke to Gary; he's given me a couple of pointers.'

‘Needle, I'm not being funny, but if Gary knew what made our Connie tick, they'd not be divorced, now, would they?'

‘You've got a point.' He rubbed his chin, as if considering this very thing.

‘Have you seen my mum?' A quick glance around the place and it was evident her mother was not in residence.

‘No, I've been down at the beach.'

‘Well, no worries. I'll try the wine bar.'

‘See you later!' he yelled as she sped up and made her way across the street. It was a strange feeling, knowing she could at any point bump into Ed – the thought alone left her a little giddy. Her stomach rolled at the prospect of reunion, but first, she needed to find Annalee.

After she'd visited every pub she could think of, the wine bar and even the beach where Annalee sometimes sat with friends, Tawrie was a little stumped. She called her nan, but her mother had not ventured home. And then it occurred to her: maybe she had made her way down to Rapparee Cove, in preparation for the get-together.

Tawrie walked the coastal path over Hillsborough and sure enough, as she looked down into the secluded cove from the vantage point on the clifftop, she spied the small, dark head of Annalee sitting on a wide cushion just up from the shoreline, staring out to sea. She felt the rise of a lump in her throat, wondering if she'd ever seen such a lonely sight.

Going intentionally slowly, she made her way down the steps, giving Annalee time alone before she disturbed her peace. Under a veil of caution she trod the sand, admiring the huge bonfire that Needle and Connie had constructed, with driftwood and logs piled high in the middle of the cove, as well as the smattering of cushions and blankets that were dotted here and there on the sand. The bar was dressed in a Tiki-themed skirt, and it all boded very well for the evening ahead. Not that the Gunn Fire was paramount in her thoughts. Right now, it was all about talking to her mother. Harriet's diary had allowed her to see her mother from a new angle and it was illuminating. Tawrie felt a little swamped with emotion. All those wasted years ... but this was no time for maudlin reflection, it was the time for action, for change, the dawn of a new era.

‘Mum?' she called softly, not wanting to frighten or surprise her, but equally needing to make her aware of her presence.

Her mother turned sharply and wiped tears from her cheeks. Tawrie's eyes were drawn to the fresh thin silver scar that ran from the top of her eyebrow to her hairline. A grim, permanent reminder of her tumble down the steps.

‘I was just ...' The woman pointed out over the calm sea. The breeze blowing off it was carrying the last of the summer warmth before autumn staked a claim on the landscape and their mood. She made to stand up. ‘I'll go.'

This was the point they had arrived at, unable to be in close proximity, properly estranged.

‘No. Please stay.' She placed her hand on her bony shoulder. ‘I've been looking for you.' Tawrie sat down on the cushion next to her and raised her knees to rest her elbows on them. They hadn't fully conversed since the morning after Annalee's accident when with fatigue at the masthead and frustration bubbling over, they had both spoken plainly. It had been a month of strained relations and Tawrie felt the flare of shame at all the things she'd said. This time, she kept her voice low, calm. ‘I really need to talk to you, Mum.'

‘What about?' The fear in her mother's eyes was distressing, as was the croak to her voice. There was no mistaking her wariness, a reminder to Tawrie to proceed with caution. If they had spoken more over the years, her question might have been comical – there was so much they needed to talk about!

‘Do you remember Harriet Stratton, Mum? She stayed in Corner Cottage one summer, the summer when we lost Dad.'

Annalee nodded, her head all of a wobble on her thin neck.

‘I had a coffee with her; she had two little ones and then I don't think I saw her again. She left and didn't come back, until yesterday, in fact.'

‘Oh.' Her mother looked blank, as if it were very little to do with her.

‘It's her son, Ed, that I've been seeing ... that I saw.' She didn't know how to phrase it.

‘The one who broke your heart?' Annalee asked, her eyes wide.

Tawrie nodded. ‘I don't think he meant to.'

‘Hurts just the same though, right?' Her mum dug her finger in the gritty sand and pushed a hole.

‘Yes, it hurts just the same.' She took a breath. ‘Harriet kept a diary when she was living in Ilfracombe. She was going through a fairly rough patch: her marriage was ending and she wrote everything down.'

Still her mum dug with her finger, burrowing into the sand, keeping busy, distracted, swallowing frequently, her gaze wide.

‘I don't want to upset you on our birthday, and I didn't plan it this way, but it's important we talk.'

‘We are talking.'

‘I'm going away. Moving to Exeter to study, to become a nurse.'

‘Wow!' Annalee looked a little shocked. ‘I think ... I think that's amazing.'

‘You do?' Her heart lifted at the reaction.

‘Yes, it takes courage to change your life. Courage I can't seem to find.' She gave a false, sharp laugh.

‘I think you can find the courage and I also want to talk to you about Dad; the two things seem kind of connected.'

‘What do you want to know?' She looked up at her for the first time.

‘Everything!' This was the truth; her thirst for the detail that would help build the picture of him could never be sated.

Annalee took a deep breath, as if mentally regrouping. ‘It's not been easy for me.'

Tawrie didn't try to fill the silence that followed, giving Annalee time and space to talk.

‘I loved him. Loved him so much, still do.' This time her smile was soft. ‘He was perfect. Perfect for me. He was all I ever wanted. Good-looking, funny, and he adored us.'

‘Did he ever wear nail polish?' It was a question from left field that she'd wanted to ask for the longest time, but had never felt able to because the topic of Dan was almost taboo in the Gunn house. The snippet of memory, those hands lifting her up to see over the harbour wall and feeling so safe, so very safe.

Her mum laughed loudly and unexpectedly, instantly placing her palm over her less than perfect teeth. ‘Yes! You liked to paint his nails and he'd let you! His big old hairy hands with purple nail polish on them! His mates used to rib him but he didn't care, said they could hold a pint or throw a punch just the same. That shut them up!'

Purple nail polish with tiny flecks of glitter . She could see it now, smell the acetone ...

It was with relief and a burst of joy she had the memory confirmed as real. A small part of him that she would carry forever.

‘You also used to make him whistle. He had the loudest whistle of anyone on earth and you found it hilarious! It'd send you into giggles!'

Tawrie looked down as her tears gathered.

‘Did he drink too?' It was another blunt ask that had been simmering away in her thoughts for some time.

Annalee shot her a look and Tawrie knew the addition of the word too, which had just slipped out, was as telling as it was incendiary.

Her mum shook her head. ‘Neither of us were big boozers. I mean, the odd glass, beer gardens in the summer. He liked a pint with Sten and at the Gunn Fire, of course, but not really.'

‘So you started drinking, after ...'

‘I don't drink that much. You make me sound like some old wino and I'm not.'

Tawrie stared at her, unsure of where to go in the face of this self-delusion and with little energy for another row, especially today.

‘I don't know what to think, Mum. Since he died, it's been chaos. Chaos and sadness for all of us. I'm guessing it must be as exhausting for you as it is for us. I know you like to go out and meet ... people.'

‘People? Men, you mean. I like to meet men, is that what you're driving at?' Annalee scratched at her scalp with her dirty fingernail.

‘I guess so. I just think you're worth more, that's all, and it was hard to know how to intervene when I was a kid and, truthfully? I'm just twenty-nine and I still don't really know how to say what I think, or what to do to help you.'

‘I don't think anyone or anything can help me.' Her mother pulled a cigarette from a packet and placed it on her bottom lip. Using a disposable lighter to set it alight, she inhaled the noxious smoke like it was fresh air. Tawrie hated the smell.

‘I've felt responsible for you for so long, and always hated how I can't fix things. I think me going away will be good for you in some ways. I won't be there to worry and you'll have to take a bit more responsibility and keep an eye on Nan.'

Her mother gave a wry laugh. ‘You're not responsible for me and you certainly can't fix things, Tawrie.'

‘I wish ...' She floundered. What did she wish?

‘To what, wave a magic wand?' Annalee suggested. ‘Turn back time?'

‘I guess.' She closed her eyes briefly and let the sea breeze lift her hair.

‘The reason' – her mother took a long drag of her cigarette – ‘that I pick up men, or rather let them pick me up, is complicated, there are many reasons.'

‘How?' she pushed, this felt like progress.

‘Take your pick: comfort, company, sex, flattery, a diversion. Any of them will do, but in a haze of booze being wanted by a man, any man, it makes me ...'

‘Makes you what?' she hardly dared ask.

‘It makes me forget.' Annalee nodded and toyed with the cigarette between her fingers.

‘Forget?'

‘Him. Your dad. Dan. My Dan. Just for a minute, I forget how good I had it and how my life felt on track and how one moment of choppy sea, and one moment of distraction and one traffic jam on the A361, which meant Sten was late, and my life changed forever. Forever! And everything, everything I thought I knew and everything I had planned toppled into the sea with him. A matter of seconds, Taw. That was all. You'd think, wouldn't you, that for something so life-changing it might be a long, drawn-out thing, giving me time to adjust, to understand what was happening and why; a chance to intervene, change the outcome. But no, just seconds and it was all gone. Just like that.' She clicked her fingers. ‘He was gone and I haven't really felt anything since. Nothing.'

Her mother's words were like glass that shredded her heart. It was desperate, it was sorrowful and it was her story too. For the first time in as long as she could recall, she didn't feel disgusted by Annalee's admission, but rather she was full of pity for the shell of the woman who had once had it all.

‘In Harriet's diary, she wrote about seeing you and Dad out on your walks around the harbour.'

‘We did that every night. I still walk the path, but I do it after dark and I make out he's by my side and I chat to him just the same.'

It was odd to hear how her mother's actions so eerily matched her own.

‘I talk to him in the water when I swim, as if he's there with me.' It was a hard confession from a throat constricted with sadness.

‘He is there with you. He is.' Annalee stubbed her cigarette into the sand and Tawrie seized the moment and reached for her hand. It trembled in her palm like a frightened bird.

‘And sometimes, for the longest time in fact ...' Tawrie hesitated, knowing that her thoughts were a little odd. ‘... I thought he lived on Lundy and that's why I couldn't go there, in case he wasn't there and I would really lose him then, forever. And that's why I've never wanted to go away to college, Mummy, in case ... in case he comes back and I'm not here.' Her tears sheeted her face as distress stole her poise. ‘In case he's not staying, but only popping in and I miss him. Miss my chance to tell him how much I love him, how much I miss him!'

‘Oh, Tawrie!' Annalee looked into her face, her sorrow mirroring her own. ‘He isn't coming back. I wish he was!' Her mum's distress was hard to witness, yet strangely unifying too. ‘We both lost so much, didn't we?' Annalee asked, as tears ran into her mouth.

‘Yes, but we didn't lose each other. And I think he'd want us to do better, wouldn't he?'

‘He really would. I ... I need help, Tawrie! You were right in what you said when we had that row: I need help! I've taken solace in drinking. It helps me to escape, to forget.'

‘I don't think it helps anything, not in the long run. We'll get you help, Mum. You're not alone. But it is a mountain only you can decide to climb, no matter how much we will all cheer you on. I want you to succeed, for you! For you and for me and for Nan. You deserve a better life, we all do. I know it's hard but no matter what happens, I will always love you. I'll never stop loving you, Mum.'

Annalee lay her head on her shoulder and Tawrie was shocked by the insubstantial weight of her frail body.

‘I'm so lonely!' she sobbed.

‘I know, Mum. I know. But this is a huge step, a new beginning. I can feel it.'

‘I miss him so much! He took my heart with him, Tawrie, and I can't, even now, twenty years later, I can't figure out how to go on without him. I don't even know if I want to. When I tripped down the steps, as I fell, I kind of hoped that I might not wake up! I miss him!'

Tawrie wrapped her arms around her mother's slight form and held her tight, and there they sat as the beach started to fill with friends, neighbours and family. Dusk pulled light from the day and music started to drift across the cove. Needle lit the flaming torches, and still they sat, side by side, unified in grief and with a greater understanding, which Tawrie knew was the key to becoming closer, to building for their future.

‘I need to go and have a word with Needle; I'll be straight back.'

Annalee nodded as Tawrie grabbed the man who had always been there, the man who was practically family, the man who had a boat ...

The evening grew louder, busier and she and Annalee sat side by side on the shoreline, happy to just be in each other's company. Nora and Gordy, with their relatives in tow, came over and bent low to kiss her cheek.

‘Happy birthday, Gunns!' Gordy shouted and headed off to the bar, pulling Nora with him, his arms around her waist like they were young lovers. It was nice to see. They were greeted by Georgie, the milk delivery guy, and his wife Cleo who was smiley, barefoot and pregnant with their second child. Tawrie felt her mother move a little closer, as if just the sight of couples in love was a little more than she could stand.

‘Here we go.' One of Annalee's friends from the pub arrived and handed her a tumbler full of wine. She took it into her shaking hands and sipped it, like medicine, and Tawrie understood that withdrawal from the drug that held her in its grasp was going to be a slow process. The beach was filling up with faces she recognised and some she didn't, but the atmosphere was wonderful. She had planned on going home, showering and changing, but time had caught her out and here she was, grubby jeans, messy hair and a t-shirt she'd worn all day.

A quick glance to her left and she spied Connie and Needle sitting by the newly lit fire, huddled close with a blanket around their shoulders as Sonny raced around the beach with the other kids. This, too, brought her joy. Needle, brilliant Needle who had agreed to help her out; a constant in their lives and that, she understood, was no bad thing.

Freda came alongside and dropped down on to the sand, surprising Tawrie because she hadn't heard her approaching.

‘Room for a small one?' she asked, as she nestled next to Tawrie and joined them in looking out over the sea. Her nan kissed her cheek.

‘We've just been sitting here talking about Dad.'

Freda nodded. ‘He loved this place, Ilfracombe, every inch of it. He loved it in all weathers and he loved nothin' more than to be out at sea looking back at the harbour. The cliffs and the little buildings all perched on the rocks, the big old spire of the church rising up. I've been thinking recently about getting old and dying in a chair in front of the telly.'

‘Hey, well this is nice. Happy birthday!' Tawrie cut in and the three of them laughed. It was rare and nice to have Annalee present and joining in, one of the gang.

‘No, I'm not getting all maudlin, what I mean is – it's what Dan would have wanted. The way he went. It would have been his perfect end. He was the happiest man I knew, never a day of sadness: he adored you two, he loved his life and he never knew a moment of grief, the lucky thing. It's the rest of us who are swimming in this pool of sorrow. He would never have wanted to leave you, of course not, but how he died? I reckon he'd feel honoured to have been taken by the beautiful briny sea.'

Tawrie recalled the majesty of the dolphins jumping up out of the water, a sight that she knew would stay with her forever, and she more than understood. This love of the sea was a shared thing with her beloved dad.

‘I think you're right, Freda.' Annalee spoke up.

Her nan reached across and took her daughter-in-law's hand. ‘I never forget, Annalee, that despite all of our troubles, you loved Dan the most and you have stayed. Not like that other flighty thing who married Sten. How could a woman leave her daughter and husband like that?' She shook her head and it was the first time Tawrie had properly considered the fact that Wanda had waltzed off with her Danish skipper, while Annalee, despite her issues, had stayed put, sleeping in the bedroom that used to be hers and Dan's. ‘We've got each other, Gunns, we've always got each other.' Freda spoke with strength and Tawrie took comfort from it. ‘And I guess you've heard this girl of ours has handed in her notice at the café?' Freda asked her mum.

‘I have indeed.' She took a small sip of the wine. ‘A nurse, can you believe it?' Annalee's look of pride felt like progress.

‘I've always wanted to become a midwife, that's the plan.'

‘Just goes to show it's not too late, Tawrie Gunn, it's never too late.' Her mother smiled at her, as if it were as much a reminder to herself as to her daughter.

‘I see lover boy is back.' Freda nudged her.

‘Yes.' Her heart jumped at the prospect of seeing him.

‘Do you love him?' Annalee asked, her tears rallying as if she too could remember what it felt like in those early days.

‘I think I do, Mum. I really think I do.'

‘Then go get him, Tawrie, and hold him tight and never take a single day for granted.' Annalee's voice cracked at the words.

‘I won't.' She stood and dusted the wet sand from her numb bottom. Taking a step away, Tawrie looked down at the two women with whom she shared this special day. ‘I love you both. And I'm proud of us all.'

‘And we're so proud of you.' Her mother started to cry and Freda moved closer to her.

‘Talk of the devil ...' Freda nodded as Ed made his way down the steps and across the sand.

‘Hi.' He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and stared at Tawrie.

‘Hi.' She looked up into the face of this kind man, the man Harriet would trust with her life. She took a step towards him. ‘I had a nice chat with Harriet today. I told her to come down tonight.'

‘She told me.' He took a step towards her. ‘I left her chatting to Charles, her husband. She might pop down later, but I doubt it. Parties aren't really her thing. I think she just wants to get home.'

‘I see.' She looked up at him, liking the way his floppy hair fell over his forehead. ‘And what's your thing, Edgar Stratton?'

He reached down and took her hand into his. She let her fingers rest there; the touch was electrifying, welcoming and she felt pure delight at the contact. Pulling her towards him, he kissed her firmly on the mouth, sending lightning bolts of joy through her very core.

‘You. You're my thing. I love you. I really love you.'

Just to hear those words once again from his lips was enough to fill her with exquisite happiness and she understood perfectly what Annalee had expressed: He was perfect, perfect for me ...

‘And I you.' Her voice no more than a whisper.

‘This is the life, Tawrie Gunn.' He smiled. ‘Someone once reminded me that this is the one life we have, this is it! And so we all need to do more of what makes us happy rather than what we think we should.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like prioritising our happiness and not doing something because we're expected to or because we happen to find ourselves on that track. We need to jump off! Start over! Because if having to contemplate an existence without you has taught me one thing, it's that life is short. It's too short.'

‘I think that "someone" is very wise. That's why I've chucked in my job and I have a place at uni. I'm going to be a midwife. That's the plan.'

‘That's brilliant! Just brilliant!' His joy was tangible.

‘Oi! Farquhar!' Connie called across the cove from beneath the shelter of her blanket, her face lit by the orange flames that licked the driftwood and crackled as they released fire fairies up into the night sky.

‘Who me?' Ed touched his chest.

‘Yeah you! Welcome to the family!' She raised her can of cider.

‘Thanks!' He pulled Tawrie towards him, no doubt using her as a shield, which made her laugh.

‘We'll love you forever, but if you put a foot wrong with our Tawrie Gunn, you'll 'ave me to answer to!'

Needle led the laughter that rippled around the cove, and as the music got louder, the flames danced higher.

‘Let's dance!' Tawrie pulled him down the beach. ‘Let's dance until we drop!'

‘Yes, and then we're going to stay right here on the sand, looking up at the sky and lying here until morning, watching the movement, the light, the shifting darkness.'

‘Our checklist,' she breathed.

‘Our checklist.' He silenced her with a kiss.

The two were ebullient, giddy, despite not having had much sleep.

‘Where are we going?'

He followed, as she skipped along Broad Street with her hand inside Ed's. ‘It's so early!' he moaned. ‘I want food! I want toast, I need coffee! I need a shower.'

‘That's just too bad, I'm in charge!' she sang. ‘It's a surprise!'

‘It's not your birthday any more, so less of the bossiness. You can't be this demanding – this is just any other day. Besides, don't you have to go for your swim?' He looked back over his shoulder.

‘Nope, I spoke to Jago and Maudie, explained that I'd be absent.'

‘Actually, I saw them yesterday when I was on my hike around the Torrs.' He pulled a face.

‘What did they say?' She was curious, trying to imagine the three of them chatting without her.

‘Jago was very frosty and told me that you deserved more than to get lumped with a rotter. Maudie gave me a death stare.' He shivered.

‘Ah yes, thought that might be the case. They'll come around.' She squeezed his hand.

‘What if they don't?' He sounded horrified.

‘Then I'll bin you and let them choose me a young man they approve of!'

‘I hope you're joking!' He bent to kiss her.

‘I hope we never have to find out!' she countered.

It was as they tripped along the quayside that she spotted Needle out on the water in his boat. She stopped walking and stood rooted to the spot. All bravado whistled along the wind as she faced the reality of her plan. She waved to the man who now stood proudly in his rigid hulled inflatable rib.

‘Does your surprise have something to do with Needle and his yacht?'

‘It might. Oh God, Ed, I thought I could do it. I want to do it, but I'm not so sure ...' She pulled back on the pavement, feeling the very real beginnings of panic.

Calmly, he took both of her hands inside his. ‘You can do anything. I believe that.' Gone was all humour; his face and tone were serious as he held her gaze. ‘Do you trust me?'

‘I think so.' The quaver to her voice was hard to disguise as fear lapped at her heels.

‘Then we can do this together. We can do anything together. Needle, mate, we're ready for whatever adventure awaits!'

He gripped her hand tightly as, pulse racing, she made her way down the slipway and climbed clumsily into the rib on legs that felt like jelly.

‘Welcome aboard!' Needle handed her a life jacket that she placed over her neck and which he fastened for her. ‘You're all set. It's a perfect day for it, Taw. No need to fret, my lovely.'

‘Where are we going?' Ed sat down next to her on the bench, which she was gripping tightly, holding on for all she was worth, letting her body roll with the swell of the waves in the harbour. The solidity of the man she loved sitting next to her did much to calm her.

‘We're going to Lundy.' She blinked. ‘I'm taking you to Lundy.' She let the words fall from her mouth.

Lundy. The place that had been a fixation ever since her dad had died, the place where his boat Ermest had turned up. The great lump of land visible on the horizon, when the mist and fog allowed, and where, when the mood or melancholy took her, she believed her dad might live, hiding in a cave, or rescued by selkies or mermaids, taken to live in a watery world in its outer edges, trapped.

‘I'm scared,' she admitted.

‘It's going to be okay, I promise. We are off to Lundy!' Ed sat close to her as Needle expertly manoeuvred the vessel out of the harbour, then turning west towards Hartland Point he picked up speed. The boat bobbed over the crests of the waves and she had to admit that while it wasn't the most comfortable means of transport, it was quite thrilling. Her fear began to dissipate, yet still she held on for dear life.

‘Look!' It was twenty minutes into the journey when they were joined by a porpoise swimming alongside. ‘That's luck right there!' Needle sat tall with his hands on the wheel and the morning sun lighting the face of a man who knew contentment.

‘So, you enjoyed the Gunn Fire then?' she teased.

His grin was infectious. ‘Reckon it's the second-best night of my life!' he shouted into the morning light.

‘What was the best?' Ed, like her, was curious.

‘Well, I haven't had it yet! But it'll be my wedding day, when I can walk down the aisle with Mrs Constance Threader-Smith.'

‘Your surname is Threader-Smith! So that's why everyone calls you Needle!' She laughed loudly.

‘I thought you knew that!' he shouted over the sound of the spray hitting the hull.

‘What's your first name?' Again Ed was on the same page.

‘Sebastian,' Needle offered without irony.

‘Your name's Sebastian?'

‘Yes, why?'

‘No reason.' She bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud but knew that she would have great pleasure in telling Connie that she was going to one day be Mrs Sebastian Threader-Smith. Now that was a wanker-name if ever she'd heard one!

As Lundy grew bigger and the boat slowed, Tawrie felt the fold of anxiety in her gut. Her eyes scanned the shallower waters where rocks gathered and the cliffs rose up to the green-covered headland where puffins idled and squawked, chatting no doubt to the seal who swam and sang in the water below. Tawrie was thoughtful, wondering if this was her dad's last sight, this beautiful, beautiful island.

The three were quiet as Needle came alongside the slipway and she and Ed climbed out. It was a moment of trepidation, wondering how she might feel, but this was matched by her delight to have her feet once again on solid ground. He took her hand and with her backpack on his shoulder, the two started to climb the steep path up from the quay.

‘What are you going to do, Needle?' she called back, grateful for the ride and worrying a little about abandoning him, while at the same time relishing the thought of time alone with Ed.

‘I'm off to the Marisco Tavern. They do a bloody good breakfast!'

His continual optimism, his energy, was, she thought, a good thing for Connie, and for Sonny and Gary too. It was the kind of nature that would make it easier when life threw them a curveball, as she knew it could.

She was aware that sometimes in life an experience or destination is built up in your mind so the reality is never a match for the perfection you have created. Lundy, for her, was the opposite. The island was quiet, without traffic to clutter up the paths or add to the cacophony of life, but it was more than that. With only sporadic internet and phone signal, gone was the underlying hum of connection. There was no chatter of people, only the bleat of goats and the sound of the sheep munching the cud. Waves broke against the bottom of the cliffs and the overwhelming feeling was one of peace. She'd heard the word magical frequently used by visitors to her little town, but this place wrapped her in magic. No wonder she had thought it possible that her dad might be living here among all manner of mythical sea creatures.

After following the coastal path and walking for forty minutes, taking in the breathtaking scenery and letting the gentle wind blow out their cobwebs, they finally came to a stop at Battery Point with a stunning view of the island on both sides.

Ed sat and she plopped down next to him as the sun broke through the cloud.

‘This is so beautiful.' She spoke aloud, tipping her head back to feel the warmth on her face. ‘I brought breakfast. Open up the backpack.'

Ed did just that and produced a large punnet of glossy red cherries.

‘I figured we should make new traditions,' she began.

‘I like that thought very much.' He paused, clearly moved. ‘One of the things I missed most when my parents divorced was all the little things, the in-jokes, the habits and peculiarities that we as a foursome shared, and it's not about them being exclusive, but that they made me feel like I was part of a gang, part of something that if and when the need arose, might provide a safety net.'

She understood. This fruit was a link to her beloved dad, and now something she'd share with Ed. New traditions; she liked the idea very much.

‘But your mum and dad have always been there for you?'

‘Yes, yes they have in their own way – they're great, but it's more than that. It's about all the small things that made us special. Playing Uno on Christmas Day after lunch, Dilly mis-saying "car park", so they were "par carks". Until Wendy moved in and insisted on correcting us every time we said it. And that small thing, that little line that connected the tiny dots of our existence was broken. It wasn't Wendy's fault, it must have irritated her, but either way it was broken. These building blocks that constructed all things that we would look back on and recognise as our history. I want that. I want to build a history with you. I want to share moments like this with you and with ...'

She knew he was going to say ‘our kids', and her heart squeezed in anticipation.

‘With whatever might come next,' he finished. ‘And so I can't tell you how utterly joyful I feel to sit here at Battery Point on Lundy Island eating cherries on the day after your birthday. We'll come again next year, if you like?'

‘I do like.' Greedily she took a handful of the shiny fruit and popped one into her mouth. It was sweet and if she closed her eyes she could recall her dad handing her the fruit and how they'd laughed as they gobbed the pips into the flower bed.

‘You know I've been here before,' he began.

‘Was it with a girl who brought you cherries?'

‘No,' he laughed. ‘It was with my dad. We had a packed lunch of pasty and crisps and it was the second-best day of my life.'

‘Oh yeah?' She smiled. ‘And what was the first?'

‘Well, I haven't had it yet, but I reckon it'll be when I get to watch Mr Sebastian Threader-Smith and his beloved Constance walk up the aisle!'

She laughed out loud. Then it was quiet, the air suddenly still and she felt clarity and hope in that moment of singular serenity.

‘That day, here with my dad ...' He swallowed the emotion on which his words coasted. ‘It was the last day I remember things being perfect. I didn't have to worry about my mum or feel sick about Christmas or where I was going to live, or whether they would they row again. Or even that feeling of being almost split in half and pulled in two different directions. It was as if I knew that things were falling apart and it was paralysing, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it. Like living beneath a boulder that's teetering and threatening to tumble. And no matter what I was doing, I had one eye on it, waiting for it to come crashing down.'

Tawrie reached out and took his hand; she knew what it felt like to live this way. One eye on Annalee, waiting to catch her when she fell.

‘I understand. And I promise never to make you feel that way through my actions – never intentionally.'

‘And I you.' He leaned over and kissed her gently.

They were silent for a beat, letting the magic of Lundy wash over them.

‘Thank you, Ed, for coming with me, for getting it!' She lifted the cherries in her palm. ‘I never wanted to come over here; I thought it was better to look at it from afar.'

‘But it's so beautiful!'

‘It is, but I guess I figured that if I never came here then it might be true.' She wiped the tears that pooled in her eyes. ‘It meant my dad might be living here, happy, missing me, but here, alive. I knew that if I came and saw it for myself, it would confirm that he's gone. Really gone, never coming home, and what then, Ed?'

Reaching out he wiped her tears and pulled her into him. ‘Then you properly grieve for him, you finally say goodbye and you let me love you, all of you.'

Tawrie submitted to the deluge of tears that clogged her nose and throat, her body heaving.

Ed held her tightly and it was only when she lifted her head to take a breath that she saw that the sun, now high in the sky, had sent a shaft of light to illuminate the water. It sparkled in an almost straight line, with hues of silver and purple, and if she looked very closely hints of glitter ... A straight line that led all the way from Lundy to Ilfracombe, an intangible, unbreakable thread that she would, for the rest of her days, wrap around her heart.

Tawrie knew that she had found peace. And on this, the day she found the courage to say goodbye to her father, Daniel Gunn, she felt safe in the knowledge that her parents had adored each other and that she was made in love because what they had shared was truly golden.

‘Goodbye, my daddy.'

She whispered into the stillness as the scent of warm cherries filled the air, knowing that she might wander far, but her heart would always live in Ilfracombe, a place that would call to her. Home.