The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (17 page)

We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant together that Sunday evening, both of us feeling tense and unsettled. Theo even allowed himself a glass of wine, something he’d never normally do the
night before a race, and we returned to our room a little calmer than when we’d left. He made love to me that night with particular urgency and passion; afterwards, he collapsed onto the
pillows and pulled me into his arms.

Just as we were drifting off to sleep, I heard him say, ‘Ally?’

‘Yes?’

‘If all goes well tomorrow, we’ll be off. But it’s going to be rough. I’m just reminding you now of the promise you made to me on “Somewhere”. If I tell you I
want you off the boat, you’ll obey my orders as a skipper.’

‘Theo, I—’

‘Seriously, Ally, I can’t put you aboard tomorrow unless I’m confident you’ll do as you’re told.’

‘Then yes,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘You’re my captain. I have to do as I’m told.’

‘And before you say it again, it’s not because you’re a woman, or that I doubt your proficiency in any way. It’s because I love you.’

‘I know.’

‘Good. Sleep well, my love.’

The news came through early the next morning that the Fastnet Race would begin – a full twenty-five hours after the planned start. Having contacted the crew, Theo left
for the boat immediately and I could see he was already focused and re-energised.

An hour later, I joined him with the rest of the crew aboard the
Tigress
. Even in the harbour, the boats were rocking perilously from side to side as the wind and waves battered
them.

‘Christ, and to think I could be skippering a luxury chartered yacht around the Caribbean right now,’ muttered Rob, as we heard the gunfire to signal the start and waited tensely for
our turn to leave the harbour. As we did so, Theo mustered us all on deck for a ‘
bon voyage
’ photo.

Even the most seasoned sailors among us looked slightly green as we finally left the protection of the harbour. The extreme seas, swirled into a foaming frenzy by the wind, soaked each and every
one of us in seconds.

Throughout the turbulent eight hours that followed, as the wind continued to gather pace, Theo remained calm, his balance rarely faltering as he helmed the boat through the wild water, issuing
an almost constant stream of orders to keep us on course and maintain our speed. The sails were reefed and unreefed a dozen times as we negotiated the fiercely unpredictable conditions, including
forty-knot squalls that seemed to blow up out of nowhere. And all the time, the slanting rain pounded down on us relentlessly.

Two of us had been assigned to galley duties that first day. We tried heating soup, but even using the gimballed stove which was designed to hold the pots level, the pitching of the boat was so
violent that the contents still sloshed everywhere, scalding us on more than one occasion, so we resorted to microwaving some of the precooked ration packs. The crew came down in shifts, shivering
in their race gear and too exhausted to remove it for the short time they were eating. But their looks of gratitude reminded me that in a race, the domestic tasks were equally as important as what
went on above deck.

Theo was in the last shift to eat and as he wolfed his food down, he told me there were a number of vessels that had already decided to take shelter in various ports along the south coast of
England.

‘It’s going to be a lot worse when we leave the Channel and we’re out in the Celtic Sea. Especially in the dark,’ he said as he looked at his watch. It was almost eight
o’clock in the evening and the light was beginning to fade.

‘What does everyone else think?’ I asked him.

‘They’re all for going on. And I think the boat can take it—’

At that moment, we were both thrown off the benches as the
Tigress
gave a huge lurch to starboard and I yelped as the edge of the table dug sharply into my stomach. Theo – the man
who I’d genuinely believed could walk on water – was now picking himself up from the floor.

‘Okay, that’s it,’ he said as he saw me double over in pain. ‘As you said, it’s only a race. We’re going into port.’

And before I could say anything, he was climbing the stairs to the deck two at a time.

An hour later, Theo helmed us into Weymouth harbour. All of us were soaked to the skin despite our high-tech weather-proof clothing, and completely exhausted. Once we’d anchored, taken
down the sails and checked all the equipment for damage, Theo called us into the main cabin. We sat slumped wherever there was room in our orange race gear, looking like half-dead lobsters caught
in a fisherman’s net.

‘It’s too dangerous to carry on tonight, and I won’t put any of your lives at risk. However, the good news is that nearly all the other boats in contention have already taken
shelter, so we might still have an outside chance. Ally and Mick are going to cook some pasta for later and in the meantime, you can all take a shower in the order on the rota. As soon as the sun
rises, we’re off again. Someone put the kettle on so we can make some tea to warm up. We’re going to need all our wits about us come the morning.’

Mick and I staggered to our feet and headed towards the galley. As we loaded a large pan with pasta and warmed the ready-made sauce, Mick made us cups of tea and I sipped mine gratefully,
imagining the warmth flowing all the way into my cold toes.

‘It could do with a splash of something stronger,’ Mick said with a grin. ‘You can understand why the sailors of old lived on rum, can’t you?’

‘Hey, Al, you’re next for the shower,’ called Rob.

‘Don’t worry, I’m fine to miss my turn and go later.’

‘Good man,’ he said appreciatively. ‘I’ll pretend to be you.’

Never had my dubious culinary skills been more appreciated than they were that night. Soon after we’d eaten and washed up the plastic bowls, everyone started dispersing to sleep while they
could. As the boat wasn’t designed for so many crew to sleep at the same time, people were arranging themselves on the benches or rolling themselves up in their lightweight sleeping bags on
the floor.

I went to take my shower, wondering whether the freezing cold water, which was all that was left at the end of the queue, made me feel better or worse. I emerged to find Theo waiting for me
outside.

‘Ally, I need to talk to you.’ He took me by the hand and pulled me through the now dimmed cabin full of inert bodies and into the tiny space crammed with navigation equipment that
he called his ‘office’. He made me sit down and took my hands in his.

‘Ally, do you believe I love you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And do you believe I think that you’re an incredible sailor?’

‘I’m not sure.’ I gave him a quizzical half-smile. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m not taking you any further in the race. There’s a dinghy coming to collect you in a few minutes. You’re booked in to a bed and breakfast on the harbour.
Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just can’t.’

‘Can’t what?’

‘Risk it. The forecast is appalling, and I’ve already spoken to several other skippers who are talking of retiring. I think the
Tigress
can go on, but I simply can’t
have you on her. Do you understand?’

‘No. I don’t. Why me? Why not the others?’ I protested.

‘Please, darling, you know why. And’ – he paused before he continued – ‘if you want to know the truth, it makes it far harder for me to concentrate and get on with
the job at hand while you’re aboard.’

I stared at him in shock and bewilderment. ‘I . . . Please let me stay, Theo,’ I begged him.

‘Not this time, no. We have many more races to run together, sweetheart. And a lot won’t involve water. Let’s not jeopardise those.’

‘But why is it okay for you to continue when you’re so worried about me doing the same? If other boats are thinking of retiring, then why won’t you?’ My anger was
beginning to smoulder as his devastating announcement sank into my brain.

‘Because this race has always been my destiny, Ally. I simply can’t let everyone down. Right, you’d better pack up your kit. Your ride will be here any minute.’

‘But what about
me
letting everyone down? What about me letting
you
down?’ I said, wanting to shout at him but aware of the sleeping crew nearby. ‘I’m
meant to be your protectress!’

‘You’ll certainly be letting me down if you continue to argue with me,’ he said sharply. ‘Collect your things. Now. That’s an order from your captain. Please obey
it.’

‘Yes, skipper,’ I replied petulantly, knowing I must accept defeat. But as I went to retrieve my rucksack, I was furious with Theo for all sorts of confused reasons. Climbing up onto
the deck, I saw the lights of the dinghy approaching across the harbour and went aft to let the ladder down.

Fully intending to leave without saying another word to Theo, I caught the painter that was thrown by the dinghy’s skipper and secured it to one of the deck cleats as he drew alongside.
I’d just mounted the ladder to climb down, when a torch flashed on my face from above.

‘You’re staying at The Warwick Guesthouse,’ came Theo’s voice.

‘Right,’ I said flatly, throwing my rucksack into the listing dinghy and taking another step down, before a hand grasped my arm and he pulled me back towards him.

‘Ally, for God’s sake, I love you. I love you . . .’ he murmured as he folded me into his arms, my toes teetering on the top rung of the ladder. ‘Never forget that, will
you?’

Despite my anger, my heart melted. ‘Never,’ I said, taking the torch from his hand and shining it into his face, imprinting his features onto my memory. ‘Keep safe, my
darling,’ I whispered, as Theo reluctantly let me go in preparation to release the painter, and I climbed down the steps and jumped into the waiting craft.

That night, exhausted as I was from the most arduous day’s sailing I’d ever endured, I couldn’t sleep. On top of which, having searched through my rucksack, I realised that in
my hurry to leave the boat, I’d left my mobile on-board. Now I could have no direct contact with Theo and I kicked myself for my stupidity. As I paced around my room, I veered between
indignation at being unceremoniously dumped ashore, and raw fear as I peered out at the rolling clouds and torrential rain in the harbour below me, and heard the continual clang of wind-blown
rigging. I knew how much this race meant to Theo, but I worried that his wish to win could cloud his professional judgement. And suddenly I saw the sea for what it was: a roaring, uncontrollable
beast that could reduce human beings to flotsam with its magnificent strength.

As a murky dawn began to emerge, I spotted the
Tigress
on the move once more, heading out of Weymouth harbour and into the open sea.

My fingers clasped my engagement necklace tightly, and I knew there was no more I could do. ‘Goodbye, my love,’ I whispered and watched the
Tigress
until it was a tiny dot
tossed on the cruel waves of the open sea.

I spent the next few hours feeling completely cut off. Eventually, I realised it was pointless staying alone and miserable in Weymouth, so I packed my rucksack and set off by train and ferry
back to Cowes. At least I would be near the Fastnet Control Centre and I could find out first-hand how things were going, rather than having to rely on the internet. All the boats had GPS trackers
aboard, but I knew they were notoriously unreliable in rough weather.

Three and a half hours later, I checked into the same hotel Theo and I had stayed at during the practice and walked along to the Royal Yacht Squadron to see what I could find out. My heart sank
as I recognised a number of crews who had begun the race with us gathered miserably in huddles around the tables.

Spotting Pascal Lemaire, a Frenchman I’d crewed with a few years ago, I went over to speak to him.

‘Hi, Al,’ he said in surprise. ‘I didn’t know the
Tigress
had retired.’

‘She hasn’t, or at least as far as I know. My skipper ordered me ashore yesterday. He thought it was too dangerous.’

‘He’s right, it is. Dozens of boats are either officially out of the race, or are waiting in port until the weather calms down. Our skipper made the decision to withdraw. It was hell
out there for the smaller boats like ours. I’ve rarely seen weather like it. Your guys should be okay on a hundred-footer, though. That boat your boyfriend is sailing is as good as it
gets,’ he reassured me as he saw the anguished look in my eyes. ‘Want a drink? There’s a lot of us in here drowning our sorrows tonight.’

I accepted the offer, and joined the group as they inevitably began comparing the weather to that during the 1979 Fastnet Race, when one hundred and twelve boats had been knocked down by the
waves and eighteen people, including three rescuers, had lost their lives. But after half an hour, distracted and nervous about the
Tigress
and Theo, I made my excuses and donned my fleece
before walking down the rain-swept road to the Fastnet Control Centre, based at the Royal Ocean Racing Club a short distance away. I immediately asked if there was any information on the
Tigress
.