Page 47 of Deep Waters

The fog had not relented when they left the house just after seven. If anything, Christian thought, it might have gotten worse. And it was still dark. They crossed the road carefully, watching for headlights in the impenetrable greyness. There was a chill to it, which caught in Christian’s chest when he inhaled. He could hear the flowing river and the squawk of gulls, but there was little he could see but the path in front of him.

“This is creepy,” he said. “Like something from a horror film.”

“Nah. It’s nothing. Just weather. You’ll get used to it.”

“Are you sure you should be going out to sea in this?”

Harry took his hand in the fog. The touch was warm and reassuring in the cold atmosphere. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of going anywhere, not unless this clears completely. As thick as it is now, it might all be gone in ten minutes. When you run a boat, you need to hope for the best and be prepared to go on short notice when things improve.”

They had reached the low harbour wall. Christian could make out the ghostly forms of the boats moored below.

When they came uponThe North Star, he saw there was already a light on in the wheelhouse.

“Tom? Is that you?” Harry called out.

A moment later, the dim outline of his cousin appeared in the doorway. Tom crossed the deck until he stood directly below them.

“Shitty morning, eh?” he said.

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Harry asked.

“A hundred per cent better. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

I was impossible to see in the dark and the fog, but Tom sounded cheerful, just like Christian remembered from their first meeting.

“I’ve checked a couple of different forecasts,” Tom said. “This shouldn’t last. I think we’ll be clear by eight. Eight-thirty at the latest.”

“I hope you’re right,” Harry said. “The forecast last night didn’t even mention fog.”

“It’ll be fine.” Christian realised Tom’s gaze was fixed on him, a mischievous expression on his handsome face. “So,” he continued, looking from one of them to the other, “you two, eh? Out and about early this morning.”

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’ll hear all the gossip later.” He looked at Christian and winked. “For now, we need to get ready on the off-chance things clear up. You keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll go and fetch the breakfasts. You want your usual? Or are your guts still sensitive?”

“I haven’t had anything decent in days,” Tom protested. “Get one bacon butty with fried mushrooms and one sausage butty with a fried egg. Red sauce on the bacon and brown on the sausage. And a large latte with a Kit Kat. Four fingers.”

Harry laughed. “Righto. I’ll be back in about twenty-minutes.”

Christian and Harry continued their walk along the waterfront.

“He seems chirpy,” Christian said.

“Doesn’t he just. He’ll be pulling my leg about the two of us for the rest of the day.”

“Is it a problem? You and me?”

“Oh, God, no,” Harry said, taking his hand again. “Don’t ever think that. Tom is just a typical cousin. He always winds me up about things. But if I’m happy, then so is he.”

“I’m happy, too.” Christian raised Harry’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

Through the fog, he saw the illuminated sign for Quay House. They stopped outside, turning to face each other.

“So, I’ll see you this afternoon?” Christian asked.

Harry licked his lips and nodded. “If the fog doesn’t clear by ten, it will be sooner than that, but otherwise, yes. I’ll text you when I’m finished, and I’ll catch up with you wherever you are.”

“I don’t intend to go far. I’ll be somewhere around the town. Maybe we can have a late lunch.”

“Deal.”

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