Page 16 of The Sisters of Sea View
Because the bay was shallow and Sidmouth had no harbour, large ships rarely came near, except for the flat-bottomed coasting barges that delivered coal and limestone.
Instead many small fishing and pleasure boats dotted the water, their sails picturesque against the deep blue sea. And to her right stood Chit Rock, a tall sea stack that served as a landmark for mariners on foggy days.
Emily loved tolookat the water—the waves, the boats, the seabirds circling overhead—but the thought of wading into its depths sent shudders of fear through her. She diligently kept her distance from the surf.
At the western end of the beach stood a clutch of houses called Heffer’s Row, perched on a rise overlooking the shore, as well as a few other cottages.
Though gaining notoriety as a seaside resort, at its heart Sidmouth was still a fishing village. Fishing was the mainstay of life and primary source of income for many families. Some twenty boats, or “drifters,” with names likeStorm Petrel, Osprey, andSprite, operated from the beach. Many of the fishermen had colorful names too, like Ruder Pike, Banty Hook, and Toot Salter. Each family of fishermen had their own section of beach, and this ancient unwritten right was honored by everyone. The local fishermen had also formed their own cricket team.
Emily had met several of these hardworking people and was acquainted with one family in particular. The Cordey family kept their boats on the far reaches of the beach near their humble cobb-and-stone cottage below Heffer’s Row.
Their patch of shingle was the nearest to Sea View, and the sisters often stopped to exchange friendly banter with affable Mr. Cordey, his young daughter, Bibi, and gregarious younger son, Punch.
Emily waved to the men now. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’, maid’n.”
Mr. Cordey’s older son, Tom, was quieter and serious. In his midtwenties, he had strong, capable hands, and broad shoulders stretched his wool jersey. Beneath his flat cap, his features were striking, and his eyes a crystalline blue. Her sisters teased her, saying they were all eating a frightful number of fish since they’d made the acquaintance of a dashing fisherman.
Georgiana, her light brown hair billowing around her cheerful round face, ran down to the beach to join her, followed by Chips. She greeted the men as they prepared to launch one of their boats.
“May I go with you?” Georgiana asked them.
“Georgie, the men have work to do,” Emily admonished. “As do we. We had better leave them to it and return to our own chores.”
Mr. Cordey scratched his temple and repositioned his cap.“Knows I promised ’ee, maid’n, so why not? Just a short’un afore we head out?”
“Yes, please!”
Perspiration prickled along Emily’s hairline. What would Sarah say were she here? Would it be safe? “You are terribly kind,” she said tentatively. “But won’t it be too much trouble?”
“No trouble a’tall. Not fer me best customers!”
Punch waggled his eyebrows at her. “Will you come too, Miss Emily?”
“No. I ... don’t like the water.”
“What’s not to like? There’s nort better!”
Emily swallowed and admitted, “I don’t know how to swim.”
“Nor us! But we like the water ’cause it’s full o’fish.” He gave her a saucy wink.
“Well ... that is good. For you. I shall ... follow along on the beach and meet Georgie at the other end—say, in front of the York Hotel?”
Mr. Cordey nodded. “We’ll take good care of ’er.”
Emily walked slowly along the esplanade—a broad promenade railed and rolled smooth, and nearly a third of a mile long. A crenellated wall bordered its western section—the remains of a small fort, abandoned years before. Behind it was Fort Field, its former training ground. She then passed the library, watching the boat’s progress all the while.
As her gaze landed on the bathing machines on the beach, Emily shivered. She would not be venturing into the sea, even in one of those colorful wagons. No. She would remain safe on shore.
———
A short while later, after Emily collected Georgiana, the two sisters walked back together, Georgie chirping happily about her experience on the water as they went. When they reached Sea View, she continued around the house to the kitchen steps to find a treat for Chips. Emily, meanwhile, quietly let herself in through the veranda door, hoping to avoid Sarah, who would no doubt puther to work. As she tiptoed upstairs, she removed her bonnet and pulled off her gloves. Reaching the refuge of her room moments later, she felt all the relief of a debutante successfully avoiding an odious dance partner.
She opened the door and jerked to a halt, clapping a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry.
A man stood inside, dressed only in pantaloons, arms raised in the act of pulling a white shirt over his head.
