Last summer
August 25th still
I go back to the house, since there’s nothing else to do.
Evie calls down the stairs. ‘Freya? Joe?’
‘It’s me,’ I call back.
Why don’t I tell her what Joe’s doing? Later, I ask myself this over and over. I still don’t know the answer.
‘Gramps and I are having an early night,’ Evie says. ‘Help yourself to food or whatever. And can you bring the chairs in from the garden? I forgot. Thanks, love.’ She closes their bedroom door. It’s only about nine o’clock!
I can’t seem to stay still. After I’ve put the chairs in the shed and brought in the rug I wonder about going back to the field to play. I can’t stop thinking about Joe. Upset, because of Huw and Sam but also because of me. Out there on the boat. It doesn’t feel right. Then I think of something and my heart lurches. I go back out to the shed to check: Joe’s wetsuit and all four life jackets are still hanging there.
Still I don’t wake up Evie and Gramps. Maybe because of that note in her voice earlier: don’t disturb us. I’m halfway along the path to the field when my hand feels something in my pocket and I realise with the most awful gut-wrenching, stabbing pain that I’ve still got the boat bungs, which means that not only has Joe taken the boat out without wearing any safety equipment for himself, he hasn’t even checked the boat. As he goes out into the bay, sea will gradually seep into the hold and weigh down the boat, making it lower and lower in the water, and more and more difficult to control. Panicking now, I start running.
Luke, Ben and Maddie are the first people I reach at the edge of the field. I start gabbling about Joe.
‘Hey, chill,’ Luke says. ‘Slow down a bit.’
But Ben understands. Alarm registers on his face too and he’s running to tell Huw . . . Huw of all people!
‘He isn’t wearing a life jacket,’ I say between gulping sobs. ‘Not a wetsuit even, and it’s getting dark and he hasn’t got lights or anything.’
‘He’ll be all right,’ Luke says. ‘He’s been out in that boat a hundred times before. He knows what he’s doing.’
‘But this is different. He was really upset,’ I start to say. But by now Huw’s come over so I don’t explain properly about that either.
Huw goes into action mode immediately. I hate him and I am enormously relieved all at the same time.
‘Run and get your grandparents. Quick! Now!’ he instructs me. He’s got his mobile out and already he’s pressing the numbers for the coastguard.
That’s how the nightmare begins.
It isn’t long before we hear the engine of the lifeboat coming from Main Island. I’m freezing cold, shaking all over.
It’ll be all right now. It will find him easily. He can’t have got that far. Even if the tide was pulling him out, he knows the waters well enough, where the rocks are and everything. Any minute now and we’ll see them towing the dinghy back in . . .
Gramps and Evie are already up and dressed and running along the path towards Periglis by the time I get down there. Huw must have phoned them already. I have to go over my story again and again, like I do later to the coastguard, until I’m so weary and muddled it hardly makes sense. I tell them about the bungs.
‘It isn’t your fault, Freya,’ Evie tells me over and over. ‘That stupid, stupid boy. Just wait till I get my hands on him. I’ll kill him, I swear I will. Without a life jacket! What was he thinking of? And in the dark, for heaven’s sake!’ She’s crying too. I know she’s being cross because she’s so scared and it frightens me even more.
Gramps goes white and quiet. He’s all for taking the rowing boat out, and Huw and Dave offer to go out in the Spirit, but the lifeboat men won’t let them. The wind’s got much stronger. The tide’s running fast. They don’t want to be doing two rescues, or more.
After a while Evie makes me go back to the house with her. That’s when we first hear the helicopter, circling over the island and back and forth across the Sound. Its searchlight beams out over the black water.
I know it’s very bad news. The coastguard’s called the Air Sea Rescue because the inshore lifeboat hasn’t found Joe. It’s pitch-dark now. How can they not have found him? It doesn’t make any sense. Surely a searchlight would pick up the white sail easily enough?
We’re all huddled in the sitting room when the phone rings. Evie jumps up. Her eyes are circled with purple shadows. I feel sick and faint. Gramps just stands at the window, like he’s been doing for nearly three hours now, hands in his pockets and jingling the coins in there. The sound’s making everyone even more on edge.
Evie repeats the coastguard’s words.
‘They’ve found the dinghy.’
Gramps turns, relief flooding his face.
Why isn’t Evie smiling?
‘But not Joe.’
All the colour drains from Gramps’ face.
My palms are sticky with sweat. Blood thumps in my skull.
‘The boat had capsized.’
Evie collapses on to the sofa next to me. Gramps takes the phone from her hand. His knuckles are white against the grey plastic.
Evie starts to rock, head in her hands, making a strange sound.
She gathers me into her arms and tries to rock me with her.
Still I don’t cry. I’m stiff, sort of frozen.
It’s my fault. All of it.
The helicopter and the lifeboat get called off at about one, because it’s too dark and the wind’s gusting to storm force. They’ll resume the search at dawn. Gramps goes out: Evie doesn’t even try to stop him. He goes down to the bay, I find out later, and waits there all night. Sally from the farm comes to sit with Evie and me. No one says much. Sally makes tea which no one drinks. At some point, Evie must have phoned Mum and Dad, but I’ve blotted that out of my memory.
At about five, we walk down to Periglis. The wind has blown itself out and it’s a beautiful cool summer morning, the sky all peach and pearly. Gramps isn’t there. Eventually, we find him at the end of the jetty: he’s walked out to meet the police boat which is just making its way across from Main Island.