Read Online In the Blood by Steve Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steve Robinson
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and boots, with a black turtle-neck sweater finished at her slim waist by a narrow black velvet belt. No words were exchanged. The walkers respectfully stood back.
Martin pulled the boat close to the jetty and his eyes fixed on Amy. He thought how good she looked despite everything. Her bright eyes - a palette of greens and blues that matched the colour of the river beneath the full sun - shone out through the glow of her earlier tears and he wanted to comfort her. He felt suddenly ashamed at the inappropriateness of his thoughts. He wanted to say he was sorry again, like he’d said so many times before.
As Amy approached, he stepped up and offered his hand to steady her aboard. He smiled an understanding half-smile that mirrored hers exactly. Amy did not speak as she sat down, and Martin could feel her hand trembling in his; see her white knuckles tight around the flower stems. At the wheel, Simon kept to his business. The engine revved up again and they were soon heading out towards the mouth of the river, weaving between anchored sailboats towards Durgan and beyond to Toll Point where Gabriel’s fishing boat had been found.
Toll Point...
Christ! Martin thought. That was a dark day.
Reaching above the north bank of the Helford River, Toll Point offers little more than a small shingle beach and a quiet place to anchor. If Rosemullion Head to the north and Nare Point to the south delineate the mouth of the Helford River, then between the headlands of The Gew and Toll Point is the river’s sometimes gargling throat. In bad weather it can be a dangerous place for the ill-prepared.
But not today.
As Amy arrived at that fateful place the water was as calm as the sky that sighed gently over it. A cormorant swooped past, low on the water. Then it rose and folded its wings before darting beneath the surface without making a splash. Not much was said on the way. What was there to say? Martin had offered his support as he always did - had suggested, as he had this past year, that she needed to move on with her life. She knew he meant well, but she didn’t want to hear it.
The boat was steady, engine shut off. A gentle sway now and then was all that gave the river’s presence away. Amy felt cold despite the sun. She rose slowly from her seat as though frail with old age and leant out over the water. Martin came to her side and Simon approached, mimicking, like he didn’t know what use to make of himself.
Amy reached out to place the flowers. Her hand dipped into the water, breaking the seal - cold. Her thoughts drifted and she wondered, as she always did, what it must have been like; what Gabriel had gone through before peace finally found him. Her fingers were numb. She could not let the flowers go and she only knew she had when she saw them float away - drifting like her thoughts. Where is he? Where is Gabriel?
She watched the newspaper cutting sink out of reach and wondered how her heart continued to beat. She swallowed, dry and painful, forcing back the lump that had risen in her throat. Then she turned away and collapsed onto the seat, burying her head into her lap, unable to quell the shiver than ran continually through her.
She felt Martin’s hand on her shoulder; heard him sigh as he began to circle a palm across her back.
“It will get better,” he promised.
Amy doubted it.
Chapter Eleven
T he Ferry Boat Inn has been a celebrated feature of Helford Passage for over three hundred years and continues to service sailors and fisherman along with a busy tourist trade. Inside, the inn speaks of its piratical past and of smuggled contraband, with its ship’s lanterns and bells, ropes and wheels. An old ship’s mast stretches the length of the bar like a sturdy lintel.
Jefferson Tayte was outside, still smiling to himself after learning from two of the locals that the place was known as
Martin pulled the boat close to the jetty and his eyes fixed on Amy. He thought how good she looked despite everything. Her bright eyes - a palette of greens and blues that matched the colour of the river beneath the full sun - shone out through the glow of her earlier tears and he wanted to comfort her. He felt suddenly ashamed at the inappropriateness of his thoughts. He wanted to say he was sorry again, like he’d said so many times before.
As Amy approached, he stepped up and offered his hand to steady her aboard. He smiled an understanding half-smile that mirrored hers exactly. Amy did not speak as she sat down, and Martin could feel her hand trembling in his; see her white knuckles tight around the flower stems. At the wheel, Simon kept to his business. The engine revved up again and they were soon heading out towards the mouth of the river, weaving between anchored sailboats towards Durgan and beyond to Toll Point where Gabriel’s fishing boat had been found.
Toll Point...
Christ! Martin thought. That was a dark day.
Reaching above the north bank of the Helford River, Toll Point offers little more than a small shingle beach and a quiet place to anchor. If Rosemullion Head to the north and Nare Point to the south delineate the mouth of the Helford River, then between the headlands of The Gew and Toll Point is the river’s sometimes gargling throat. In bad weather it can be a dangerous place for the ill-prepared.
But not today.
As Amy arrived at that fateful place the water was as calm as the sky that sighed gently over it. A cormorant swooped past, low on the water. Then it rose and folded its wings before darting beneath the surface without making a splash. Not much was said on the way. What was there to say? Martin had offered his support as he always did - had suggested, as he had this past year, that she needed to move on with her life. She knew he meant well, but she didn’t want to hear it.
The boat was steady, engine shut off. A gentle sway now and then was all that gave the river’s presence away. Amy felt cold despite the sun. She rose slowly from her seat as though frail with old age and leant out over the water. Martin came to her side and Simon approached, mimicking, like he didn’t know what use to make of himself.
Amy reached out to place the flowers. Her hand dipped into the water, breaking the seal - cold. Her thoughts drifted and she wondered, as she always did, what it must have been like; what Gabriel had gone through before peace finally found him. Her fingers were numb. She could not let the flowers go and she only knew she had when she saw them float away - drifting like her thoughts. Where is he? Where is Gabriel?
She watched the newspaper cutting sink out of reach and wondered how her heart continued to beat. She swallowed, dry and painful, forcing back the lump that had risen in her throat. Then she turned away and collapsed onto the seat, burying her head into her lap, unable to quell the shiver than ran continually through her.
She felt Martin’s hand on her shoulder; heard him sigh as he began to circle a palm across her back.
“It will get better,” he promised.
Amy doubted it.
Chapter Eleven
T he Ferry Boat Inn has been a celebrated feature of Helford Passage for over three hundred years and continues to service sailors and fisherman along with a busy tourist trade. Inside, the inn speaks of its piratical past and of smuggled contraband, with its ship’s lanterns and bells, ropes and wheels. An old ship’s mast stretches the length of the bar like a sturdy lintel.
Jefferson Tayte was outside, still smiling to himself after learning from two of the locals that the place was known as
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