River of Destiny (48 page)

‘Should we anchor till it’s gone? We’ll be sailing blind otherwise,’ John suggested quietly.

Ken could feel a tightness in his chest now and he knew it was panic. It wasn’t the fog which scared him, it was the ship which came with it. It was already too late to try and outrun it if it came; the wind was dropping. In seconds it would have gone altogether. They were being carried by the tide and they had already lost steerage. ‘I’ll head out of the main channel and we’ll try and pick up a buoy. There is quite an extensive anchorage along here.’ He glanced back apprehensively. The mist was all round them now. He was beginning to lose his sense of direction. He leaned forward to look at the compass mounted on its binnacle near the cabin door and felt his stomach lurch in panic. ‘John, take a look at this. What’s going on –’

John came to stand beside him. ‘Crikey, Moses!’ The needle was spinning round in circles.

He saw John look round too and for the first time there was a flash of fear in his face. ‘Shall I go forward and find the anchor?’

Ken shook his head. ‘It’s in the locker. There’s no time.’ There was something out there behind them, he was sure of it. But which way was behind them? They seemed to have come to a standstill now. The water was calm as glass and they were enveloped in a strange, muffling silence. He had a feeling the boat was beginning to spin like the compass. And then he heard it, the unmistakable sound of oars, the thunder of a huge sail in a powerful wind and near them on the starboard bow the sudden dark silhouette of a longship. Ken frantically pushed the tiller over hard and at the same moment he felt the deep keel of the
Lady Grace
catch on the bottom. She shook herself loose, floated free again for a few seconds and then she caught fast. They were trapped.

Both men moved instinctively forward, trying to shake her free but she didn’t move. ‘The tide is rising,’ John whispered. ‘It won’t be long before we float again.’

His voice died away as he saw the longship coming closer. ‘It’s moving fast,’ he whispered. ‘Under sail. Where is it finding the wind?’ He glanced up at their own burgee, barely visible as the mist wreathed round them, but enough to see it hanging limp at the masthead.

Ken didn’t answer. His eyes were riveted to the great ship as it came closer to them. He put his hand to his chest. He was finding it hard to breathe. He could see the details now. The sail with the huge head on it, a fire-breathing dragon; and he could see the lines of shields along the deck, the oars, working in unison, the vast curved prow, slicing through the mist as it held its course up-river. He jumped as he felt John beside him again.

‘There are no men,’ John whispered, his mouth close to Ken’s ear. ‘Look, there are no men on board!’

Ken closed his eyes. His head was buzzing strangely. He felt dizzy and sick. He took a deep breath of the cloying heavy mist, choked and clutched at John’s arm. It was the last thing he remembered.

Leo woke to the sound of the telephone. He switched on the light and grabbed his watch. It was midnight. When he answered the call it was Zoë.

‘I’m sorry it’s so late, but Ken and John went sailing this morning. They aren’t back yet. We can’t raise them on their mobiles. I don’t know what to do.’

Leo lay back on his pillow, the receiver in his hand, and groaned inwardly. He shook his head to clear it. He had only been asleep an hour and his brains felt like cotton wool. ‘Did they say what their plans were?’

‘Not really. We expected them back long before this.’

‘Do you want me to call the coastguard?

‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was subdued. ‘We could go down and look at the mooring? See if there is any sign?’ She sounded desperate.

He gave another inward groan. His bedroom had never seemed so safe and cosy. Reluctantly he hauled himself out of bed and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains and staring down at the river. The mist seemed to have gone. The moon had moved round and the trees on the point were throwing long shadows over the water.

‘I’ll go,’ he said at last. ‘You stay where you are.’

‘No.’ Her voice sharpened. ‘No, Leo. I’ll come with you.’ The line went dead.

He threw on his clothes and pulled a heavy sweater and jacket over his shirt, then he ran down the stairs. Zoë was waiting outside the back door. He glanced past her as he opened it. ‘Your friend?’

‘I’ve persuaded her to stay by the phone. She’ll call my mobile if there is any news. They have probably been becalmed somewhere, or stopped at a pub and decided it was sensible to stay put till it got light, but –’ She looked up at him pleadingly. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this. About the ghost ship.’

He was rooting about on the worktop for a torch. Finding it amongst the litter of painting things and cooking implements and books he switched it on and checked the beam. ‘OK. Let’s go.’

As he pulled the door closed behind him he threw a glance over towards the barns. He hoped Jade was in bed and asleep. All he needed was to have her see him and Zoë set off into the dark and decide to come and throw a spanner in the works. He left the torch off. There was enough moonlight for them to follow the path down towards the landing stage. The night was cold and sharp, the grass wet with dew and the silence was intense.

Zoë hadn’t uttered a word since he had opened the door. At the top of the path down through the wood he stopped and stared down. In the moonlight he could see the
Curlew
clearly, lying quietly to her buoy. The tide was low now and it was obvious that she was the only boat at the anchorage. He said nothing, setting off again. Halfway down he felt Zoë groping for his hand. He grasped her fingers in his own and went on without pausing, almost dragging her over the rough parts of the path where she hesitated in the darkness. Once at the bottom he stopped on the edge of the river. The mud glittered in the moonlight and a breath of wind stroked his face. ‘They are obviously not here. Do you want us to go out after them?’

‘In the
Curlew
?’

‘How else? She doesn’t draw more than a couple of feet.’

He heard the quick intake of breath as she struggled with her fear. ‘Is there any point?’

‘Not really. But it would be an adventure.’

‘There isn’t enough wind,’ she said slowly. ‘Is there?’

He laughed softly. ‘The wind is off the land; it’s with the tide. We could get down to the mouth of the river. We might have to take up a mooring and wait for the tide to turn before we could get back. If we dry out it won’t matter.
Curlew
has twin keels. She won’t lie over on the mud. Have you got your mobile safe?’

Her hand went to her pocket.

‘Is it charged?’

She nodded.

‘Then it’s up to you. You can come with me, or I can go on my own and you can go home and wait for me to phone you if I find anything.’

‘You don’t think he’s in danger, do you?’

He shook his head. ‘This is not the back of beyond. If anything had happened to them you would have been told.’

‘Unless it was the ghost ship.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘I am not sure what the ghost ship means. It is scary, yes, but has it ever harmed anyone? If people had been abducted we would know about it.’ He was not going to mention his encounter with Jade beside him, the terror he had felt, the abject way they had fled. Nor would he be able to explain the state he had left
Curlew
in.

There was barely enough water now to float the dinghy. They stood looking at it as it lay on the beach, the oars still protruding from the rowlocks. ‘I took Jade out earlier,’ he said at last. ‘We came back in a hurry. She was afraid we wouldn’t get back before Jackson arrived.’

‘You took her out without permission?’

‘No, I spoke to him first, but she seems very keen on avoiding him. I don’t think she’s afraid of him, she just ducks out of trouble where possible.’ He saw the fleeting smile on Zoë’s face and nodded. ‘Wise child, but then I suspect they don’t really act as any kind of brake on each other’s schemes.’ He bent and half-lifted, half-pulled the prow of the little boat round, shipping the oars and pushing it with a grunt towards the water line. ‘Are you coming?’

He saw the fear in her face, then the sudden look of determination. ‘I’m coming.’

‘Good girl.’ He grinned.

‘If I wasn’t so scared I would tell you not to be patronising.’

‘Then I’m glad you’re scared. I was actually impressed by your bravery. Hop in. There’s no point in us both getting muddy.’

In ten minutes they were aboard the
Curlew
and Leo was hauling up the sail. He was right. There was enough wind to carry them out into the centre of the fairway and hold course. ‘Keep your eyes peeled. If they have anchored somewhere we don’t want to sail past them.’

He settled himself in the cockpit, the tiller under his arm, the main sheet in the other hand. ‘Grab a rug from the cabin if you’re cold. The river is chilly at night.’ The boat was gaining speed. He could feel her waking up under his hands. Strange how good it felt to have Zoë there, though she had none of the natural wild enjoyment that Jade had displayed.

‘Is the mist coming back?’ She was staring forward past the sail. He could hear the fear in her voice.

‘If it is, we’ll sail straight through it.’

She didn’t answer and he laughed. ‘Come on, Zoë, courage! We are intrepidly going to the rescue! Lifeboat, that’s us!’

‘I’ll feel such a fool if they’ve checked into a pub somewhere and are fast asleep.’

‘If they are we’ll have a legitimate cause to ask why the hell they didn’t ring. They must know you’ll be worrying.’

They fell silent, Leo enjoying the feel of the wind on his face, Zoë staring out into the dark. He had clamped the jib sheet round a cleat and she sat, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, the collar pulled up round her ears as she scanned the banks for any sign of the
Lady Grace
. What she wanted more than anything was to stop, for them to moor somewhere and lower the sail and go into the cabin out of the cold and for him to make love to her. Under her breath she was cursing Ken. He knew how worried they would be, of course he did, but what would he do if they found him? When he saw her sailing with Leo, in the early hours of the morning …

‘The tide is dropping fast.’ Leo’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘We’ll need to tie up somewhere before we reach the bar and wait for it to turn. There’s not enough wind to take us home against it.’

She felt a shaft of excitement knife through her. She looked back at him and smiled. ‘Sounds good to me. If they’ve gone out to sea we would never find them.’

‘Do you want to try?’ He laughed mischievously.

‘No!’ She shuffled backwards, so she was sitting opposite him. ‘I want to stop.’

He held her gaze for a moment. ‘So do I.’

They picked up a buoy at a mooring upstream from Felixstowe Ferry. ‘It’s unlikely anyone will come back here tonight. If they do they will swear at us immoderately and we will grovel our apologies and scuttle off into the night.’ He was making all fast. ‘We’ll be off soon anyway. As soon as the tide has turned and there is enough wind to make headway.’

‘Shall I ring Amanda?’

‘You’d better. Reassure her, though. Because we haven’t found them doesn’t mean there is anything wrong. As I said, if anything was we would have heard, I promise you.’ He glanced round the cockpit, checking that all was secure, then he leaned forward to push open the cabin door. ‘After you,’ he gestured. ‘We’ll have a midnight feast and then,’ he paused, ‘rest, perhaps, until dawn.’

Once again Henry did not come to her bed that night. Somehow she had undressed alone in the cold room and pulled on her nightgown, then she had crawled under the coverlet, leaving the oil lamp burning on the table near the door. She woke several times during the night, acutely aware of the silence in the house and gave up trying to sleep in the end, lying watching the lamp begin to flicker and die, then later the dawn begin to filter through the curtains as she lay, listening to the sad song of a robin serenading summer’s end on the pergola outside in the rose garden until at last she began fitfully to doze.

She lay in bed a long time next morning, hoping someone would come. The sun had risen and was shining strongly through the curtains, throwing patterns of light onto the carpet. The room was growing warm now, and before long, she knew, she was going to have to use the chamber pot. She slid out of the bed and glanced underneath. The pot wasn’t there. She closed her eyes for a moment in frustrated fury, then reached for her shawl. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to go to the privy.

The door to Henry’s dressing room from her bedroom had been locked. The other door which led onto the corridor was open, she saw, as she went past. His bed did not look as though it had been slept in. She was filled suddenly with a feeling of panic. Had she been all alone in the huge house all night? Was she all alone now? Where had all the servants gone? What if they never came back?