The first Elizabeth knew of the accident was when she woke to the dull thudding of her father’s boots on the stairs. The dark sky was broken by the glimmer of moonlight as it fussed at the edge of a break in the clouds. The clock ticked at her side, and she saw that it was a little after 1 a.m. Somewhere in the distance a door slammed, followed by the faintest ringing of a bell. Was that a voice she could hear too, calling out? Pushing the covers aside, she jumped from the bed, moved toward the window. As she peered into the street, she saw her father rushing from their home in the direction of the sea. His shoes were untied, the blue and white stripes of his pajamas flickering underneath the tails of his coat. There had been calls for such urgent departures in the past, but even in the direst of emergencies he always got dressed. Leaving in his nightclothes was unthinkable.
Elizabeth pushed her feet into her slippers and opened her bedroom door. With her father gone, the responsibility for her mother was left to her. Even at the age of seventeen she knew it wasn’t good for her mother to wake alone. Ahead, a thin sliver of light shone from the door of her parents’ bedroom, left ajar in an otherwise tenebrous house.
“Mum,” called Elizabeth as she moved along the landing. They tried to keep her accompanied, since the cruelty of the confusion had set in about a year ago, yet still there were unpredictable moments like this when she ended up alone. Alzheimer’s disease, her father called it. The name didn’t mean much to Elizabeth, but she hated the disease all the same. Only last month they had found her mother trying to take a boat out, with seemingly little idea about where she was and devastatingly unprepared for what might have lain ahead. Her condition was getting steadily worse, just a little bit every day; her presence in their family was like a rock ground down by the constant weight of the tides.
As she pushed open the door to her parents’ bedroom, an empty bed presented itself, the sheets turned in both left and right. Elizabeth thought she heard a noise then, something in the kitchen, perhaps. Her mother must already be downstairs. Turning to leave she almost missed it, but there, sitting alongside the chest of drawers, was her father’s black doctor’s bag. A fresh worry surfaced; he couldn’t work without his bag, and if there was an emergency great enough to rush from the house still dressed in his pajamas, Elizabeth had to do something. Not long had passed since he’d left, and she wondered if perhaps she could still catch him. Snatching up the bag, she hurried down the stairs. “I’ll be back as quick as I can, Mum,” she called, locking the front door behind her.
The winding streets of her small village were imprinted in her mind, and she used that knowledge gained through years of childhood play to get to the main road as quickly as she could. The wind bit at her ears, and through the thick coastal dark she could hear the increasing intensity of the sea breaking ground as she inched ever closer. Then overhead a bright light filled the sky, an arc like a comet, followed by the accompanying boom of a flare as it was fired from the lifeboat station. Her fears grew as half-dressed men whizzed past her, en route to answer the lifeboat’s call. Following the commotion of harried voices, she took her first steps onto the sand behind the lifeboat station. It was then that she heard the chilling shriek of her father’s cry, and saw him down at the water’s edge.
Arms flailed as a small crowd did what they could to hold him back. Mr. Bolitho and another man, whose name she didn’t know, splashed their way into the water ahead, each of them in a state of undress. Flashlights picked out a figure emerging from the water, pulling with him another person, as lifeless and heavy as a wet rag doll hanging at the rescuer’s side. His face was familiar, a young man named Tom whom she once knew from school. He had changed, grown broad in the shoulders, different from the boy Elizabeth used to know. Then her eyes moved to the body hanging limply under his arm. Her father’s bag fell from her hands as she watched her mother slip from Tom’s grip, forming a lifeless heap on the sand.
Stumbling forward, Elizabeth saw Tom pressing his mouth against her mother’s, filling her lungs with his breath. Her father was still screaming, helpless in a way she had never witnessed before. Why wasn’t he doing anything? Wet sand hit Elizabeth’s knees as she fell to her mother’s side, just as a jet of water came spluttering from her mouth.
“Oh, Catherine,” her father called as he scrambled to reach her. Her skin had been touched by ice, a sheen of glacial blue that shimmered in the light of the moon.
“Will she be all right?” Elizabeth asked as she held her mother’s hand, her skin so cold it was almost painful. Gazing upward into the crowd, she searched the desperate faces for an answer.
“She’ll be all right, miss,” Tom said. He reached across, placed a wet hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. Somebody draped a blanket over his back, and then another over her mother. His breath was warm as he leaned in close. “But we need Dr. Warbeck.” Dr. James Warbeck was Elizabeth’s fiancé, and they were due to be married next year. Tom glanced briefly at her father, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Your father is in shock. He’s no help here.”
* * *
James was already on his way, having woken to the sound of the flare. He was still getting used to coastal life, but it had been a busy summer for the lifeboat crew, and the need for urgency when he heard the call for help was as familiar to him now as it was to hear the trundle of buses passing his window when he’d lived in London. Dropping down onto the beach, sand filling his shoes, he hurried toward the crowd, still unsure what lay before him. Moments later he saw Elizabeth, then her father, next to her mother lying on the shore. Elizabeth’s breathing was as quick and short as his own.
“James, do something, please,” she begged.
“She’s very cold,” he said after performing a brief examination. “Lizzy, go on ahead, get the fire going. And you,” he said, pointing at Tom. “I suspect you are suffering a little from the exposure. Go with her. The run will do you good. Now come on, gentlemen,” he said to the crowd of local fishermen who had gathered to help. “We need to get this good lady back to the warmth of her home. Who will help me carry her?”
* * *
Elizabeth burst through the door to her home, looking left and right as if she had arrived in a place she didn’t know. Her knees still felt cold and damp as she knelt at the fireplace, no idea what to do. The logs seemed too heavy, the coal insufficient as she tried to build the fire. All knowledge of a task she knew well had been lost in the confusion of the night. No matter what she tried, the fire floundered.
“Let me help,” Tom said, taking the pot from her when a third match went out. His voice broke the silence, reminded Elizabeth that she wasn’t alone. The warmth of his body next to hers evoked the memory of just how cold her mother had seemed at the beach.
“Do you really think she’ll be all right?” Elizabeth asked as the earliest sparks engulfed the wood. But before he could answer they heard the crowd arriving with her mother, the slam of the door, the shuffle of feet. By the time they got her in the chair, the first flames of a decent fire were licking the sides of the chimney.
Elizabeth stood aside to let James work, watching as he measured her mother’s blood pressure and listened to her chest. Her father sat at her side, tears welling in his eyes, his cheeks pinched pink by the fire. Elizabeth had never seen him look so helpless. A single tear broke free and streaked across his wrinkled cheeks. The room was silent, her mother too, everybody waiting on James’s verdict.
“Miss?” Elizabeth heard a whispered voice coming from behind her. Tom was standing alone, his drenched clothes dripping salt water to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said, pushing his wet black hair from his face, “but do you have a towel I could use?”
With James taking care of medical matters, she knew that the best thing she could do would be to help the person who had saved her mother. “You’d better come with me,” she said as she beckoned Tom to follow her toward the stairs.
Under normal circumstances it would have been inappropriate to ascend the stairs as they were together. Eyebrows would have been raised at the disappearance of two youngsters like that, especially in a small place like Porthsennen. Yet on that night nobody noticed as he followed her in silence. He waited at the top of the stairs while Elizabeth rooted around in her father’s closet. Moments later she emerged carrying a well-worn sweater and a pair of dress trousers that tapered at the ankle.
“Thank you,” he said as she handed him the pile of clothes, adding a pair of brown brogues that she knew her father didn’t wear anymore.
“I should be thanking you,” she said as she stood back. “For what you did, I mean. You saved my mother’s life, no doubt.”
With the top of his forearm, he brushed his floppy wet hair from his face. “Anybody would have done the same, miss.”
Elizabeth had so many questions buzzing around her head. She wanted to ask what he had seen, and how he’d ended up being the one to help. About how her mother fell. But she didn’t know where to start, because she was sure on some level that she knew the answer to at least one of those questions. And her father was very specific; they were not to divulge any details of the illness that had claimed her mother, not a word about her memory problems, or the strange things she sometimes did around the house. Elizabeth didn’t want her inquisitiveness to fuel the fires of speculation.
“Perhaps,” she eventually said, agreeing. “But you were the one who did. I would like to say that I am very grateful.”
“My pleasure.” Silence descended again. Tom glanced down at the puddle of seawater forming under his feet. “Where should I change?”
The floorboards creaked as she moved toward the bathroom, pipes rattling as they delivered warm water to the sink. Tom held back from following her, but when she looked up and saw he wasn’t there, she moved to beckon him through. For a moment all she could do was stare at him as he stood in the doorway to the bathroom, the man who had saved her mother. Gratitude swelled inside her, and she wondered if there was anything she could ever do to repay such a thing as saving a person’s life. “There’s plenty of hot water, and soap in that dish,” she said after a while. “Take as long as you like.”
As Tom stepped into the bathroom Elizabeth looked away, suddenly aware of their proximity in such a small and private room. Edging past him, she made her way to the door. Just before he closed it, he held up the clothes and shoes and said, “Thank you again for this. I appreciate it, miss.”
The urge to rush back in, reach out, and hug him came to her, but she stifled it, and instead smiled and pointed to the sink. “Get washed and changed before you catch a chill, and come down when you’re ready.” Steam billowed toward her as he turned on the taps. “But just before I go, could you do me a favor?” It seemed wrong to her that somebody who had done something so great should have to refer to her so formally. “Please stop calling me miss. My name’s Elizabeth.”
Tom just smiled, nodded his head. “I know that,” he said, before closing the bathroom door.
* * *
Elizabeth’s fingers tingled against the hot mugs of tea that she’d made for the people who had stuck around after the accident. Once those drinks were in the hands of the helpers, she set about mopping up the patches of seawater that Tom had left behind with a rag she found under the sink, then swept up the sand that crunched underfoot as she walked. It was another fifteen minutes before folks began to leave, reassured by the fact that Catherine Davenport was in bed and out of danger. Elizabeth returned to the living room to find it almost empty.
“You’re leaving?” she asked James when she saw him buttoning his coat. Her father was finishing up what looked to be a large measure of brandy. Judging from his rosy cheeks, it was unlikely to have been his first. His eyes were still red and swollen from tears.
“I am going to leave you both in peace,” James said, reaching to stroke Elizabeth’s face.
“We need to get some rest,” said her father as he stood up from his chair, setting his glass down on a small table. Elizabeth couldn’t bear the thought of how terrible he must be feeling. He swept her up in a tight embrace. “Stop worrying now, eh? She’s going to be fine.” It was the safest place Elizabeth had ever known, yet still her father nodded to James, who was hovering next to them. “Tell her, won’t you? She’ll listen to you.”
“Your father’s right, Lizzy. She’s going to be just fine.” As James went to continue, they heard the creak of the staircase, the plod of heavy feet. They turned to see Tom arriving in the hallway. Elizabeth’s father stepped forward, reaching for Tom’s hand.
“Hello, young man, or should I say the hero of the hour. I believe you are the person who saved my wife.”
Tom nodded.
“I don’t know how to thank you enough,” her father said. “Please, tell me your name.”
Tom remained quiet, his fingers fussing at a fray in the sweater. “This is Thomas, Daddy,” Elizabeth said, stepping in. “We actually used to go to school together.”
“Well, we are very grateful to you, Thomas,” her father said. “But I’m surprised to hear you were at school with Elizabeth. You look older.”
“A little bit, sir.”
“So, are you working now?”
“When I can. Mainly pollack and mackerel, plus a bit of netting for crayfish.” Fishermen populated both Tom’s and Elizabeth’s family trees as far back as anybody knew. “I have been working for Mr. Cressa for the last three years, and where I can during the winter.”
“Three years?” Her father shared a glance with James. “How old are you? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
Elizabeth’s father appeared puzzled. “You didn’t choose to continue your education?”
Tom couldn’t maintain his gaze then. “I learned what I had to, sir. Now I help my family.”
“Well,” said Dr. Davenport, “that is very admirable. You must tell me your father’s name so that I can congratulate him on having such a fine young man as a son.”
“It’s Pat Hale,” said Tom.
Her father took a moment, a heavy breath in. “Pat Hale, eh? You’re his eldest son.”
“His only son, sir.”
“Yes, of course. I remember the unfortunate incident with your brother. I’m afraid I didn’t recognize you.” Elizabeth watched her father, his mind elsewhere. “Well, I do hope that in some of your father’s sober moments he finds the time to be proud of you.” Elizabeth noticed Tom’s cheeks flush, and just for a moment she wondered what had transpired, and why her father had said something so cruel. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Thomas.” He patted him on the shoulder, guided him toward the door. “We’d best get ourselves off to bed. Thank you once again.” James followed Tom from the house, kissing Elizabeth on the cheek just before he left. It came as a relief when her father closed the door.
* * *
When the house was empty of visitors, Dr. Davenport directed Elizabeth back into the drawing room, guiding her to sit in one of the chairs. They remained in silence until her father spoke. “I think it’s very important we address what happened tonight, Elizabeth.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yes, unfortunately it is. But we don’t want to fuel the rumor mill, do we?” People were already starting to talk. Even in the shop last week she had felt the hush of a whispered conversation and knew somehow without hearing a word that it had been about her family. “Sleepwalking would be a much kinder story than the truth, for all involved.”
“Of course, Daddy. But . . .” she began, and then thought better of it.
“What is it, Elizabeth?”
“It’s just . . .” She hesitated, licking her salty lips. The ocean was still loud in the distance, sounding now to her like a threat. “This is as good as she is ever going to be from now on, isn’t it?”
He sighed heavily, all his breath leaving him, and for a moment Elizabeth wished she could take her question back. The burden of it weighed heavily on her, but she had to know what to expect.
“Alzheimer’s comes and goes in waves, Elizabeth. She will have good days, and there will be bad days. But when you are with the people you love there is nothing that one cannot find the strength for. One can always find the light through the dark when there is love, no matter what is expected of you.” His hand stroked heavily across her shoulders. “Now go on, Elizabeth. Get yourself off to bed. It’s been a long night.”
Moonlight illuminated the staircase as she climbed, her skin pale and cold in the gray light. She found herself not only feeling pleased about the absence of an engagement ring on her finger, but also thinking of Tom. Tonight, she realized that she had never been more grateful for anybody in the whole world. The image of him lingered in her mind, stumbling from the water with her mother under his arm, saving one of the people she loved most. She was still thinking about him when she slipped into her sheets, when she closed her eyes and eventually succumbed to sleep. That night she dreamed that she was the one who was struggling out at sea, fighting for breath, and that Tom was the one who came to rescue her.