Free Winter Storms by Lucy Oliver Page B

something to eat first; it’s a long drive back and you look tired.”
    “I didn’t sleep very well.”
    “Worried about today?”
    “The gala.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d stopped her sleeping. Actually, she’d spent the night lying awake on her pillows, which had his scent, wishing he was beside her.
    Sitting back on the chair, she ordered the first item on the menu, steak and kidney pie. Tight knots clenched her stomach and she kept her gaze on the table, away from Daniel. Could she sail again? Sweat broke out on her forehead as she remembered the icy water burning her lungs, dragging her under the waves — she’d been a strong swimmer, but no one could fight that vicious winter undertow. This was why they needed the new lifeboat. Soon Liam, the only family she had, would be out on the trawlers, battling the powerful Atlantic storms. It was such a dangerous occupation and the thought of him being sucked under the waves too filled her with horror.
    But when the waitress put down her plate, containing a dish puffed high with flaky pastry and scented with rich gravy, she forked up the tender, savoury beef. Beside her, Daniel silently ate his fish and chips and she relaxed against the back of the sofa. How many times had they done this before? They’d always been so comfortable in each other’s company, feeling no need to fill in the gaps of silence with random conversation. Could they ever get that closeness back, or would the events of two years ago prove too much for them to deal with?
    • • •
    Carly leaned against the harbour railing, gazing at the pale morning sunrise as it lifted above the midnight blue ocean, while seagulls cried above her and her breath frosted in the chilled air. A line of dark clouds marked the horizon and she stared at them, brow creased. Pulling her green beanie hat down over her ears, she rubbed her hands together, clad in thick gloves. Behind her, came the swish of brooms as volunteers swept snow from the cobblestones in preparation for the stalls. Taking a deep breath, she unclenched her hands. Please let this day be a success.
    A man, wearing a fisherman’s jumper and cable knit hat, put down his broom and strode over to her.
    “Hello, Mick. You’re up early,” she said.
    “Lot of work to do today, if we’re going to make the millions of pounds you’ve promised us.”
    She smiled. “I never said millions; it’s going to take a while to pay for the lifeboat.”
    “I know, love. We aren’t expecting miracles, but I think this is a good idea of yours. The kids’ll have a great time anyway, mine were up half the night writing their letters to hand in at Santa’s Grotto.”
    “Let’s just hope they don’t recognise you then.”
    “That white beard hides everything, they’ll not have a clue and I’ve been practising a foreign accent just in case.” He nodded up the road. “Young Liam’s coming down, he’s been up in the top car park organising signs.”
    Carly watched her brother striding down the street; it still surprised her how tall he had grown. When she thought of him, she remembered the boy that clung to her when their mother rejected him. He’d returned the favour though. Without him, she couldn’t have managed these last couple of years.
    “Morning, sis,” Liam said, joining them. “The first aiders are setting up their tent and community police have arrived to organise traffic.”
    “Or riots,” Mick said.
    “Oh, don’t, please!” Carly said. “I’m stressed enough already, surely there won’t be riots?”
    “If there are, we’ll have to send your Daniel out to quell them, people like to see a famous person.”
    “I’m sure he’d appreciate that, and he’s not my Daniel.”
    “Isn’t he? That’s what everyone’s saying, that he went back with you after the sailing club ball.”
    “Sometimes I hate living in a small town, is nothing private?”
    “You love it really, where else would people carry