Free A Cornish Stranger by Liz Fenwick Page A

peacefully asleep; she was fine. In her room, Gabe changed into an old T-shirt. As she pulled the covers over her head, the chorus of a hymn from school, ‘Hail Queen of Heaven’, came to her:
    Â 
    Refuge in grief, Star of the sea,
    Pray for the mourner, Oh pray for me.
    Â 
    A tear slipped down her cheek and a draught pushed through a gap in the window. Gabe shivered, then fell into a half sleep, dreaming of standing on stage unable to produce a single note, until a loud crack sounded and she came fully alert. A tree or a large branch must have given way in the ferocity of the storm and she slipped out of bed to check Jaunty. Goosebumps covered her skin as she walked through the sitting room. She flicked the light switch but the lights didn’t come on. Maybe a tree had taken the power lines down. The rain drummed on the roof while the overgrown buddleia scratched on the window.
    She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing so that she could listen for Jaunty’s gentle snores, but she heard nothing. Finding the torch on the kitchen counter, Gabe walked through the cabin, checking it and her grandmother. Maybe the shed or even the studio had been hit. Gabe grimaced, thinking about her piano, but there was nothing she could do about it tonight. The storm was moving closer and she stood by the sitting-room windows waiting for the next flash of lightning. Through the raindrops covering the glass she could just about make out the dark silhouettes of the pines on the point. Then the hairs on the back of her neck rose as she peered into the darkness and lightning flashed, revealing the creek below. There was someone in the water!
    She ran to the kitchen and thrust her feet into wellies before racing out of the door, making sure it was tightly closed behind her. The steps on the path were slick and as she ran she slipped and landed on her backside, but she pulled herself up and continued. The quay appeared empty when she ­arrived, but then she saw the mast had snapped off the boat. The weak beam of the torch revealed debris but she didn’t see the ­stranger. Gabe shouted over the wind while the boat bashed against the quay. Lightning flashed again and she saw what looked like a body in the water. The storm was picking up pace like an orchestra. She kicked off her wellies, marked where she had seen the body, and slipped into the icy water.
    Her whole being contracted with the cold but she forced herself into action. Every second counted, but without her torch and the advantage of the raised outlook, she was swimming forward by instinct. The tide was flowing out again, pulling everything, including Gabe, with it. She was a strong swimmer, but the water felt different, overpowering. What if she didn’t find him? She was treading water, trying to locate him, but the swell made everything difficult. The whole time she felt the current taking her out to sea. Then she heard a sound, a human sound. Lightning flashed and she spotted the body again and struck out towards it, thinking of the hymn again, changing the words as she swam. Pray for the mariner, Oh pray for me .
    Â 
    Jaunty’s eyes fluttered open. The wind rattled the windows and her curtains billowed in the draught. She climbed out of bed, cursing her stiff joints, and tied the curtains back. Lightning illuminated the landscape and created an etched print. She pressed the switch and the lamp flickered before it came fully on. Walking to her desk she picked up a piece of charcoal and swiftly sketched out the looming shapes of the trees; a study in light and dark.
    Tonight the river had brought a young man, so like Alex she could almost believe it was him, and Jezebel . Her senses hadn’t been wrong. Had the stranger and lugger appeared now to help her to remember what had happened? Or was it more likely to remind her what she had lost?
    Jaunty dropped the charcoal, rubbing her fingers together to removed the sooty remains. The wind howled and