A Safe Harbour Read Free

love to you in a nice warm bed instead of—’  
    ‘Whisht, Jos, whisht!’ Kate had covered his mouth with the fingers of one hand and looked around. But there was no one to hear his words except a stray cat stretched out on the sun-warmed cobbles and a lone herring gull perched on the roof of a nearby cottage.  
    ‘Divven’t fret, lass,’ Jos had said and he’d prised her fingers away from his lips and, turning her hand, he’d kissed her palm. The faint rasp of his stubble had made her shiver with pleasure. ‘Divven’t fret,’ he’d said again. ‘We’ve done no wrong.’  
    Then Jos had told her that he was going to take Barty to the Queen’s Head and treat him to a pint of ale, or mebbes two – Jos had laughed at Kate’s frown – while he made sure the lad understood what his duties as best man entailed. He’d said nothing about taking his boat out again.  
    The evening air had cooled and there was a breeze skimming the foam from the tops of the waves. Kate hadn’t had time to snatch up her shawl and she began to feel cold. She could hear the subdued voices of some of the women who had gathered on the beach behind them. They were no strangers to grief and they knew it would be best to leave Kate and Mary alone to support each other.  
    Matthew and some of the men had already launched their cobles and started the search. Perhaps the lads were in trouble of some kind beyond the harbour mouth. Whatever they were up to they would never have sailed willingly out of sight of the shore. Kate hoped and prayed that Jos’s coble, the Sea Quest , would soon be found and that Jos and Barty would be in it, safe and well. But with every second that passed the knot of fear tightened inside her.  
    Other men had come running down from Bank Top and Kate watched as the crews, three men to each coble, manhandled the vessels on to wheeled axles and then pulled them over the soft sand into the water. Few words were spoken. They all knew what to do. Some had brought coals and kindling to light the fire-pans in the boats. The light from these braziers would be needed in the growing darkness.  
    There wasn’t the slightest hint of disaster in the air, Kate thought. As the day faded the voices behind her died and the only sounds to be heard were the creaking and splashing of the oars as the cobles manoeuvred in the small harbour. Within the shelter of the breakwaters the sea was calm. Gently curling waves flopped innocently on to the shingle. But death was present; Kate sensed it in her bones.  
    Mrs Linton paid no heed to the activity on the beach or in the harbour. She pressed her bowed head into her hands as if to catch her sobs. Kate put an arm round her shoulders. She looked down at the thick, greying hair coiled neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck. The skin that showed above the high collar was weather-beaten and wrinkled. Mary Linton was only forty-two years old.  
    Mary was shivering. ‘Do you think it would be best for you to wait at home, Mrs Linton?’ Kate asked. ‘It’s cold here on the beach.’  
    The older woman’s shoulders stiffened and she pulled away. She shook her head without turning to look at Kate. ‘No, I must stay. I must be here for him.’  
    Kate looked away. It was distressing to witness the woman’s anguish, especially as her own was growing with every passing minute. But of course Jos’s mother would stay as long as the search went on, although Kate sensed she already feared that the men’s efforts were in vain and that Jos was lost.  
    Kate shivered. ‘Come away, Mrs Linton,’ she tried again. ‘Jos wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.’  
    The older woman drew her shawl up over her head. ‘I’ve telt you,’ she said tersely. ‘I’m staying. Get yerself home if you can’t face the waiting. But my lad would expect his womenfolk to do their duty.’  
    Kate knew she had been rebuked. Useless to explain that she had only had the older woman’s welfare at