Tiff rocked up at Dirk’s lair early on the Sunday morning, wrinkling her nose at the sky. The weather was a fitting metaphor for the cottage’s owner: the clouds could be in a Turner painting, looming over steel-grey seas topped with whitecaps.
She hoped her ‘purchaser’ hadn’t got anything too outdoorsy in mind, like laying paving slabs or creosoting fences.
‘I’m here, bright and early as requested,’ she trilled when Dirk opened the door. Wearing trackies and a T-shirt and unshaven, he had the rumpled look of someone who had just tumbled out of bed. Tiff tried not to speculate too much and saluted.
‘Not sure what my duties are or I’d have brought a mop and bucket, unless, of course, you want to spend the day practising your bow tie knots …’
She was met with a growl. ‘Oh. Right. You’d better come in.’ To say her reception was an anti-climax was an understatement. She’d expected a sarcastic riposte and to be gleefully informed she’d be learning how to operate a mini digger or fillet a kipper. She’d run through so many scenarios over the past few days that nothing seemed too outlandish.
‘Coffee?’ Dirk asked once she was inside the sitting room.
‘Um. Why not? It is very early. Are you sure we have time for sitting around drinking?’
‘Yes. There’s time. What do you prefer? I have blonde, medium-dark, or Italian.’
Well, she thought, whatever horrors the day had in store, at least it would begin with a decent cup of coffee.
He returned with two mugs and a plate with four croissants, which were fresh from the oven, judging by the delicious aroma. ‘Have you had breakfast?’
Tiff didn’t like to say her stomach had been churning too much. ‘I didn’t have time. Headed straight over here, as commanded.’
‘It wasn’t a command.’
‘You did say seven a.m. sharp.’
‘Yeah … Well, I didn’t think you’d take me literally. Look, would you like a croissant or not?’ he said, offering the plate.
She reined in her irritation at his apparent lack of enthusiasm. ‘Thanks.’
Tiff bit into the warm and crumbly pastry, growing more confused by the minute. She sipped the coffee while Dirk checked his watch before vanishing upstairs to have a shave. She was left alone to finish her breakfast, admire the artwork on his walls and rifle through his collection of jazz and classical music, some of it on vinyl. He certainly had some expensive audio tech, she thought, wondering if she should tell him how impressive his Bose speakers were.
When he returned, clean-shaven and smelling faintly of cologne, she decided to be upfront with him.
‘Look, Dirk. I know the auction wasn’t that serious and was all about fundraising,’ she said politely but firmly. ‘However, you have paid three hundred quid for the privilege – or not as the case may be – of having me around for the day. I’d be quite happy to go home and spend the day lying around but you said you had something in mind, so if that wasn’t a joke, then can you please let me know what it is?’
He stared at her curiously, as if he was weighing up an intricate piece of marine engineering. She half expected him to scratch his head and reach for a wrench but then he sighed. ‘OK,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Come on.’
‘Come on, where?’
‘Down to the lifeboat station. But don’t say you didn’t ask for it.’
Flatly refusing to elaborate, Dirk led Tiff down the hill to the harbour. She half regretted goading him into action, but was also fascinated to know what he was up to. When they reached the lifeboat station on Porthmellow quayside, it was a hive of activity. The large all-weather lifeboat was at the top of the ramp inside the boathouse, with a dozen of the crew milling around it. They greeted Dirk cheerfully and seemed to have been expecting Tiff, which was odd when Dirk had had to be forced into taking her down there.
He ushered her into the control room, which was, briefly, empty. It had huge picture windows looking out over the open sea. Waves broke on the slipway and spray spattered the glass.
‘So, will you now tell me why I’m here?’ she demanded.
‘This is a training day,’ he said.
‘Okayyy … so you want me to make the tea or something?’ she said, smiling. ‘Help out in the lifeboat shop? I’m not above cleaning kitchens and loos either. In fact, I must admit I’m rather relieved. You could have told me you wanted me to volunteer down here anyway – you didn’t need to pay three hundred pounds for the privilege! I’ve got quite a taste for it actually, after helping out Marina and the Wave Watchers.’
‘Yes, erm, we do need help in the shop …’ he muttered.
The coxswain popped her head around the door. Tiff recognised her from the fundraiser but still couldn’t believe she was old enough to be in charge of the huge lifeboat. She was a tiny woman, no more than thirty, with a snub nose and freckles, a bit like one of the orphans from Annie. ‘Are you guys ready to move? Tiff, we need to get you kitted up.’
Dirk hesitated. ‘Rachel, we’ve had a change of plan. It’s looking lively out there so I’m not sure this is a great idea.’
‘Oh.’ Rachel looked confused then smiled. ‘No problem, though conditions are pretty good, I thought. The wind’s not too bad but if not … one of the crew can do it. We’ll find you something else to do, Tiff.’
She started to walk out but Tiff called after her. ‘Wait a minute! What’s this about finding someone else to do “it”. What is “it”?’
‘Doesn’t matter now,’ Dirk grunted.
‘It does to me. What is this thing I was obviously hauled down here to do, and why can’t I still do it?’
‘I thought you’d changed your mind?’ Rachel said.
‘How can I when I don’t even know what I was supposed to do?’ She glared at Dirk before smiling sweetly at Rachel. ‘Would someone mind putting me out of my misery?’
‘Oh,’ said Rachel, exchanging a puzzled glance with Dirk who’d subsided into stony silence. ‘Well … originally I was under the impression that you might like to take part in the drill.’
‘Me? I can’t sail. I’ve never been on a boat, unless I had a large G&T in my hand. I’d be a liability.’
‘That’s exactly what we want!’ Rachel declared.
‘Dirk?’ Tiff lasered him with her eyes.
‘I put you forward to be a casualty in a drill,’ he said gruffly. ‘But seeing the sea conditions, and not having warned you in advance, I didn’t think it was fair.’
‘Fair?’ A wave slapped against the slipway, throwing spray against the window. Tiff shuddered.
‘It’s a bad idea,’ Dirk muttered. ‘There’s plenty for you to do here, if you want to stay.’
So, he’d assumed she’d chicken out. ‘You mean you don’t think I’m up to it?’ she replied.
‘I didn’t say that.’
Rachel’s face fell, and she sidled to the door, obviously unwilling to be part of their domestic. ‘Um. Could you please decide in the next two minutes so we can get ready?’ she said.
‘No need to decide. I’m up for it!’ Tiff declared.
‘Wait. You haven’t been briefed yet. You don’t know what it involves,’ Dirk cut in.
‘Are you fit and healthy?’ Rachel asked. ‘You’ll have to fill in some forms.’
‘Fit as a fiddle,’ Tiff declared, regretting her comment about the gin. ‘And it would make a great feature for the mag, if it’s OK to write about it?’ She dared Dirk to object.
‘That would be brilliant. We need all the publicity we can get,’ Rachel said, beaming. ‘Thanks! Now, I’ll leave Dirk to brief you and get you to quickly fill in the insurance and safety forms. Then come into the equipment room and we can get you into your survival suit.’
Half an hour later, Tiff held onto her seat inside the cabin for dear life. The doors at the bottom of the slipway were now open to reveal the sea churning, grey and endless. Despite the swell, the coxswain and other crew seemed as chilled as if they were off for a Sunday afternoon picnic. Tiff’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the seat and her stomach was a tangled knot. Any moment now, any moment now … she felt a hand on her shoulder and the briefest squeeze.
‘You’ll be fine,’ the voice murmured close to her ear.
She had just enough time to realise it was Dirk at her side before the lifeboat plunged down the slipway on its nightmarish rollercoaster ride towards the ocean.
‘Fu—!’
With a huge boom, the bow hit the waves, spray rising sky high over the boat. For a few horrific moments, Tiff thought they were going to carry on right to the bottom of the harbour. Then suddenly the bow pointed heavenwards … then crashed down again into the surf.
She might have screamed but the noise drowned out her cries.
The lifeboat seemed to steady – though that was a relative term – as it passed the harbour wall and the engine note grew even louder. They were off, hurtling for the horizon, throwing up spray as the vessel cut through the waves. She couldn’t believe a boat could go that fast, tearing through the water, up and down, up and down, rearing high when it met a breaker before slapping down on the water.
Tiff sat rigid, gripping the seat, while Rachel, Dirk and a couple of other crew stood in the wheelhouse shouting and laughing.
‘Cuppa?’ Dirk shouted, miming a drinking sign in case Tiff couldn’t hear.
She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth in case more than words came out, so she just shook her head.
Tiff had ceased to believe in God a long time ago, but she started to pray. And she hadn’t even been thrown overboard yet.