What We Did In the Storm, page 1
Praise for What We Did in the Storm
‘A clever, complex, layered story that plays with your head. Baker is the mistress of the jaw-dropping reveal. What We Did in the Storm is one of those books that leaves you gripped in its pages long after the story is over. Absolutely brilliant’
Helen Fields, author of Perfect Remains
‘A big recommendation from me… Love the subtle and dry, dark humour laced into the thrills’
Emma Curtis, author of One Little Mistake
‘A brilliantly atmospheric book, where a community is tight but the secrets run deep… Unwavering in its intrigue, loved it’
L.V. Matthews, author of The Twins
‘Claustrophobic and compelling, haunting and suspenseful. I was utterly gripped’
Lisa Hall, author of Between You and Me
‘Fizzing with electricity, evocative and unputdownable. Tina Baker has done it again’
Alice Clark-Platts, author of The Flower Girls
‘Another impeccable, intriguing and infectiously irresistible tale from the brilliant Tina Baker… A wild and windy holiday read’
C.E. Rose, author of The House on the Water’s Edge
‘A stunningly executed portrait of an island community seething with secrets that are ready to burst free… Baker’s writing is by turns amusing and achingly sad, but always beautiful. Batten down the hatches and clear your schedule because this is an absolute gem and it will ravage you’
Heather Critchlow, author of Unsolved
I love the Isles of Scilly, a cluster of unique unspoilt gems off the coast of Cornwall. I met my lovely husband Geoff on the beautiful isle of Tresco (not in the aisle of Tesco as most of my friends assumed), and we had our wedding blessing there. I have only ever experienced kindness from the people who live and work in this magical part of the world.
And this is how I repay them!
Contents
Title page
Dedication
The North End
I The Previous June
1 Hannah and Beatrice
2 Beatrice
3 Hannah
4 Bobby and Hannah
The Graveyard
5 Bobby
6 Kit
7 Alison
8 Charlotte
9 Christie
St Mary’s Quay
10 Kit
11 Hannah
12 Thor
13 John
14 Kit
II The Previous September
15 The Walk
Piper’s Hole
16 John
17 The Art House
18 Alison
19 Hannah
20 Beatrice
21 Christie
22 Kit
23 Maisie
III The Previous Christmas and New Year
24 Hannah
25 Christie
St Mary’s School
26 Kit
27 Charlotte
28 Mary-Jane
29 Hannah
30 Beatrice
31 John
The Sea Wall
32 Alison
33 The New Year Party
34 The Shoot
35 Thor
IV May, Before the Storm
36 The Old Ship and the Cow Shed
37 Kit
38 Charlotte
39 Thor
40 Maisie
41 Mary-Jane
The Beach
42 Hannah
43 John
44 Charlotte
45 Beatrice
46 The Old Ship
47 Christie
V May, the Storm
48 Thor
VI May, After the Storm
49 Bobby
St Nicholas’s Church
50 Beatrice
51 Kit
52 Bobby
53 The Gig Race
54 Emma
55 Kit and Beatrice
Omens
VII The Accounts
56 Bobby
57 Sam
58 Miss Elisabeth
59 Charlotte
60 Maisie
61 Christie
62 Thor
63 Ted
64 Kit
65 Beatrice
66 Kelly
67 Mary-Jane
The Sea Fog
VIII November, After the Storm
68 The Old Ship
69 Beatrice
70 Thor
71 Kit and Beatrice
72 Bobby
73 Kit
74 Bobby and Kit
75 Christie
76 Beatrice
77 Kit
78 Alison
79 Kit
80 Miss Elisabeth
81 Beatrice
82 Christie
83 Thor
84 Kit
The Blowhole
85 Hannah
Acknowledgements
Also available from Tina Baker and Viper
Copyright
The North End
May, Before the Storm
He notices the figure high on the cliff above him, buffeted by the gale, leaning forwards, trudging on, long dark hair whipping wildly in the wind. This part of the island is never welcoming, let alone in savage weather, although a few horny teens might chance it. Take me up the North End, the old joke.
Stupid maid. Stupid bleddy tourists! He can’t fathom them. If you don’t have to work in it, why the hell would you be out battling these elements? A big storm is brewing – soon be bucketing it down, a gale threatening.
Ted the boatman likes rough seas. Brings back that time as a kid on the rollercoaster, one of the few bright memories in a grey childhood. Can’t think about that. Needs to get cracking. He urges on the boat, forging through outraged waves.
End-of-the-world skies today. Clouds glowering green as an old bruise overhead, evil black tumbling in fast from the west – a whole lot of nothing between this tiny island and America; nothing but the vast vicious ocean.
Slices of sunlight pierce the gloom to light up the cliff. Two of them up there now. Another maid by the looks of it, a bright pink coat rather than a rubber-duck-yellow waterproof. He turns to cock his head at a new engine noise he does not like one bit.
The next time he looks up it seems like the women are dancing up there, daft beggars.
He’s distracted by one ramshackle seagull heading in low over the water, its flight jerky, straining for land. Unusual for them to get caught out. The rest are already roosted down to wait out the storm. Perhaps this one is brain damaged, or bladdered. He smiles to himself. A pint with his name on it at the Old Ship just as soon as he settles this deal over on St Mary’s – a dirty business as his missus would put it, wrinkling her nose at anything he’s involved in. Still, needs must. This gig championship weekend is the busiest time on the islands and he has to capitalise on it.
His mind drifts, comforted by images of cold beer served by a hot barmaid. When he glances back, there is only one woman up on the cliff.
I
The Previous June
1
Hannah and Beatrice
The animal is desperate, eyes insane with fear, spittle flying. Its lips are pulled back, fangs bared as it throws itself against the bars with all its weight. It would rip out her throat if it had half a chance to escape the cage. A killer. As far as she can make out, some sort of chihuahua crossed with a gremlin and possibly a feather duster.
Hannah might also be yapping with terror, but she clenches her jaw shut tight, her hands squeezing into fists beside her.
The noise is extraordinary. An assault.
This is her first time in a helicopter. Someone like her wouldn’t usually travel this way, unless she was being airlifted to hospital, her life hanging by a thread. This journey is also ‘a matter of life and death’ according to Jane, but not really. Of course the girl’s wedding day is vitally important to her, and she’s the one paying for the flight, or rather her father is.
In the seat across the aisle from Hannah, Beatrice Wallace makes there-there noises to soothe her fur-baby.
‘Primrose, darling. Hush now. It’s okay, sweetheart. Mummy’s here.’
Poor thing! How she adores the dog. She always wanted a daughter.
Sitting next to Beatrice is her actual goddaughter, Charlotte. The girl has not looked up from her phone once, checking photos of her own face by the looks of it; as bad as a teenager, although Charlotte is now in her early twenties. She is missing the exceptional views. Blue for days!
Beatrice is very much looking forward to this holiday – the wedding of one of her best friend’s daughters, and a week away from the grind of London. Marvellous!
Hannah, however, is not thrilled to be returning to the island so soon. She has been summoned back from her first proper break in a year, to ‘save the day’ and put a stop to the bride-to-be’s theatrical tears which garbled her words in the frantic phone call the previous evening. She begged Hannah to be a last-minute replacement for her first choice of hairdresser (from a London salon, naturally), who has reportedly been poleaxed with food poisoning and will not be making the long journey over to Tresco.
Hannah told the girl she’d get back to her as she was just disembarking from the ferry at Penzance, but there immediately came a call from the island estate manager Bobby, who pointed out that Hannah’s job is to serve the likes of Jane and her family, whatever the request. The plans of worker bees like Hannah are never in the same league
Hannah needs to keep in Bobby’s good books, and this, as much as the assurance of the fee and a paid flight back to the Isles of Scilly from the mainland, persuaded her to return.
By morning, it was as if the churning waves which had assaulted the evening ferry crossing from Tresco to Penzance had never happened and all was calm and bright. It likes to play tricks on you, the weather here – three seasons in an hour is not uncommon. Hannah caught the first flight back.
Today there are nine passengers on the Penzance to Tresco helicopter (aviation fans will know it’s a Sikorsky S-76) and while Charlotte seems a tad jaded by the transport (not a patch on the helicopter from Nice over to Monaco), most are excited by this leg of the journey and the prospect of their well-deserved holidays.
Passengers have been assured by a briefing video that it is only a fifteen-minute flight. Hannah wonders if her heart will hold out so long. It batters frantically, every instinct fighting against her current incarceration. Humans are not supposed to fly in deafening tin cans. She stares hard at the sea far below, trying to concentrate on something other than her fragile mortality. There is hardly any sense of scale from up here, just an unfathomable expanse – a terrifying watery void peppered by a sprinkling of miniature vessels which could be tiny fishing boats or mighty ocean liners.
A toddler squeals with glee, Primrose yelps in terror, Charlotte yawns theatrically, and Hannah squeezes her eyes shut and screams internally.
An eternity later – finally – a glimpse of land ahead!
Seeing the island from above as they approach is like the beginning of a film. Hannah almost forgets her sense of imminent death as they approach the intense turquoise blues of the shallow waters surrounding the small land masses. It is like the Caribbean – or at least what she’s seen of those tropical shores on television. There are even palm trees, despite this being, technically, England.
Return visitors know this view from the postcards sold at Tresco’s innovatively named Island Shop, purveyor of goods including caviar and baked beans, although not in the same tin. The photos on those cards do not do the scene justice.
The helicopter swoops over the crazy castle where The Family live – the island’s ultimate bosses, although they are off holidaying on some other paradise island at the moment – and comes to hover over the giant penis of the heliport.
‘Oh! Really!’ Beatrice nudges her companion and points. ‘Look!’
‘Wow!’ replies Charlotte, hastily chronicling the artwork for her Insta feed.
This is a new attraction. Someone has recently drawn said appendage on the grass, using weedkiller or bleach. Hannah has walked past this installation, but she hasn’t experienced the full glorious effect of the prank from the air. It amuses her to see the startled reactions of the elderly couple in the seats in front of her, and she can afford to smile now they are finally descending to hover over solid land.
As they touch down, she offers a sincere prayer of thanks.
Beatrice waits for a moment after Charlotte has alighted, so she can descend the steps alone like Joan Collins, although the hair is always an issue thanks to the downdraft. How on earth did Joanie’s wigs survive, she wonders?
Hannah’s legs are wobbly as she exits the helicopter, the last one to disembark because she allows the holidaymakers to go ahead, although they’ll get their bags at the same time as she does.
When she nears the waiting room she perks up and gives a wave, wink and a wiggle for the benefit of the heliport workers – Vlad and the two new lads, all of them in the pub every night living their best lives. She gets an appreciative whistle in return.
The travellers congregate in the bijou waiting room, gabbling and checking their phones. Beatrice scoops Primrose into her arms and the small dog, delighted to be released from her travelling cage prison, wiggles delightedly, licking her mother’s neck. Charlotte pulls a face at this display.
Bobby arrives ready to execute his estate manager meet-and-greet, giving Hannah a thumbs up, acknowledging her swift return to rescue the bridal party. Beatrice notices the interaction and smiles at Hannah, now recognising her from the Old Ship where the girl works primarily as a barmaid.
Meanwhile, arrival bags are offloaded while another batch is transported across to be stored in the hold. Passengers who are departing then walk across the green to board, bracing themselves for the return trip to the mainland. By the time everyone in arrivals has their bearings, the helicopter has already taken off again and a small group of seagulls has settled on the ball area of the graffiti cock, watching the proceedings with reptilian eyes.
There are no cars on the island, part of its USP, so heliport passengers are transported to the Old Ship Inn and their various timeshare cottages via the Wacky Races style tractor-bus. Workers and visitors generally use pushbikes or walk, and there are golf buggies to help those less mobile get around.
There is a short wait as a beefy heliport worker brings round a wheelchair for one of the larger passengers. Beatrice turns to Charlotte and whispers, ‘If she lies on the beach, do you think marine biologists will throw water over her?’
Charlotte giggles then snaps a selfie of her arrival. She will need to take precautions here – sea air is brutal on the complexion.
2
Beatrice
As soon as they arrive at Falcon, the family’s spacious timeshare property with one of the best views over to the neighbouring island of Bryher, Beatrice settles Primrose on her blanky at the foot of the bed. She knows she’s lucky to be able to bring her – visitors’ dogs aren’t usually allowed to stay on the island in June, only in winter, but special dispensation has been given due to the wedding.
She unzips her bag to air out the wedding outfit – the silk crepe palazzo pants and flowing blouse in soft blues with a faint shimmer of gold, one of her favourites ever since Charlotte helped pick them out on their latest girls’ shopping expedition. She lays out her toiletries and checks herself in the dressing-table mirror. All shipshape.
The grocery supplies have already been delivered, so she pops downstairs to make herself a restorative Bloody Mary before tackling the rest of the unpacking. She is very much looking forward to trying the complimentary bottle of Westward Farm Gin later.
Beatrice Wallace owns six weeks here at Falcon, one of the larger holiday homes on the island, sleeping twelve at a push. She might have booked a smaller cottage for these extra nine days as it’s only herself, Charlotte and her son Kit staying this time, but it’s nicer to be somewhere that feels like home.
All of the guests are relieved they weren’t fogged in on the mainland, but Beatrice especially so, as she didn’t want to cut it fine for the wedding ceremony this lunchtime.
She told her infuriating husband that they should have booked a flight for yesterday in case of bad weather, but he was adamant that he was far too busy to think of taking another day off work. And after all the extra stress that caused, Henry still had to stay behind – a ‘crisis in the markets’.
‘There’s always a bloody crisis in the markets!’ snapped Beatrice, before disconnecting the call. She seethed on the train all the way from St Pancras to Cornwall, which took some seething.
‘Helloooo!’ comes a call from outside.
‘Kit! Darling!’ shouts Beatrice in reply, hurrying to open the door. Charlotte dashes down from her own bedroom to greet the rather gorgeous young man in running shorts stretching his calves on the doorstep, but Primrose beats her to it. Hugs, kisses and delighted woofs commence.
‘Char! Looking good!’ beams Kit, who decided to come to the island a day early.
‘Oh, please don’t!’ blushes Charlotte. ‘I’m a state!’
‘You are not! What are you going to do while the mothership and I are at the wedding of the year?’ he enquires.
‘I’ll go for a walk, look in on the pub, the usual,’ she smiles. ‘But perhaps we can meet up later if you like? Have a few drinks?’
Kit seems oblivious to the note of hope (some would say yearning) in the young woman’s voice.
Beatrice addresses Charlotte. ‘I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the wedding, darling, but you hardly know Janey, and it is only a small do. Oh, damn!’
