A Home For Her Baby. Eleanor Jones
honking, people scurrying by, pale distant faces. Life was just so different in the country, particularly by the sea where the rhythm of the tide seemed to take over everything.
The town hall clock began to chime, shaking her from her reverie, one...two...three...four...five. She’d booked a hotel for a few days, close to the city center and the offices of the paper where she worked...or used to. Being self-employed she’d traveled around a lot but The Times had given her most of her work and Jason, the editor and her longtime friend, had been only too pleased to have a meeting with her when she’d rung him earlier. Nosing her way through the traffic she eventually found a parking place and with a relieved sigh she pulled her bags out of the trunk, locked her car and headed for her hotel. It was good to be back in the city, she told herself determinedly as she unlocked the door of her room and collapsed on the bed; hopefully being so far from Jenny Brown’s Bay would help her see her situation more clearly.
She ordered sandwiches in her room for dinner and went to bed early hoping that at last she might be able to get a good night’s sleep. Beyond her window the flickering lights and bustling sounds of the street made that impossible. She tossed and turned, longing for the gentle swish of the sea or even the moaning cry of the wind.
Jenny Brown’s Bay did seem like a million miles away, distancing her from the horror she’d left behind there. But was this really the answer, she asked herself, the way to get past what had happened...or was she just hiding from it? One thing she did know was that she missed the peace and tranquility of her cottage...missed it with an aching loneliness.
Ali finally gave up on trying to sleep at around five thirty and quickly washed and dressed, heading out into the city. Homeless people were waking up in doorways and under bridges, getting ready to face another day of struggling to survive. When she’d lived in the city she hadn’t really taken much notice of the early morning activity, now she found it sobering.
A young lad with lank greasy hair and shadows under his eyes crept up to her, holding out his hand. “Give us a break miss,” he said, his voice thin and reedy.
Ali delved into her purse and pulled out a handful of notes. “Promise me you won’t spend it on drugs,” she said.
“Don’t do drugs,” responded the boy. “Thanks miss. This money’ll get me back home.”
Feeling good about helping him Ali headed back to the hotel to get ready for her meeting with Jason. Maybe things would look up, she decided, as she showered and changed; maybe this was a new start.
By ten thirty she was out in the street again, dressed in a smart navy suit and heels; her shoes tip-tapped along the pavement as she headed toward the café where she was meeting Jason for coffee and a chat. She felt businesslike and professional, just like she used to before her priorities changed.
She saw the boy as she hurried across the street when the lights switched. He was just a blur in the corner of her eye but it was definitely him, handing money to a shifty looking man who passed him something in return. When she looked back they’d gone but she knew it had been the homeless lad from early that morning.
Stopping in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the street she shuddered deep inside, her freshly restored confidence draining away. All she’d done with her misplaced sense of benevolence was to push the lad more quickly down the road to nowhere. Now he could buy his drugs and maybe even die in a gutter tonight...so perhaps she’d killed him, too.
Ali didn’t hear Jason calling her name until he was standing right in front of her, tall and solid and comfortably familiar; they went back a long way, she and Jason, both as work colleagues and friends. “Ali,” he cried. “You were miles away and you look as if you’ve seen a ghost... Come on, I’ll buy you that coffee and you can tell me all about it.”
Ali sipped her cappuccino slowly, still trying to process what she’d seen.
“So...” Jake asked. “Are you going to tell me what’s up or is this purely business?”
Putting down her cup she looked up at him, smiling. “Sorry...right now it was about me taking pity on a homeless boy this morning and giving him way too much money. I just saw him now though, down a side street, obviously buying drugs, and it sickened me... I thought I was helping but I’ve probably just made his situation worse. What if he ODs and it’s my fault?”
Jason laughed. “Oh Ali, you really have been out of the city for too long. You can’t help people like that. They’re on a road to destruction I’m afraid. I see it every day when I’m driving home.”
“But he’s someone’s son,” Ali cried. “And surely everyone deserves to have some help.”
“When you put it like that,” Jason responded. “I guess they do. Anyone’s kid can go down the wrong road I suppose... But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there, Ali. Look, we’re friends aren’t we? Tell me what’s been happening to you first and then we can discuss work.”
Ali shook her head slowly. The thought of unburdening herself to someone outside of the tragedy in Jenny Brown’s Bay was so tempting...and yet. “It’s my problem, Jason,” she said. “I’m here to see if you have any work for me...that’s all.”
Jason folded his arms across his chest, stroking his neat brown beard. “I have plenty of time today and as I just said...we can discuss work when we’ve talked about you. We go back a long way, Ali, why, you knew me before I was a hotshot editor.”
“Well you’re certainly that now,” Ali remarked, lightening the mood.
Jason grinned. “And proud of it, too. Anyway, back to you... I want to help and so would Laura if she was here. Look how you were there for us and the kids when our house got flooded, not to mention all the other times. I’m not taking no for an answer I’m afraid. I’ll go get us another coffee and then you can tell me all about it.”
By the time Jason came back with the coffees he’d obviously given his approach some thought. Sitting down opposite her he looked Ali in the eye.
“Why don’t you tell me about your dad first,” he suggested. “Last time I saw you you’d just met up with him again as I remember...”
“He died,” she blurted out and suddenly the floodgates opened. “Sorry...it’s all still a bit raw. He was ill when I found him you see...with cancer. He lived alone in a little fishing village in the northeast; he had friends to help him of course but no one close. We talked, a lot, about his life and why Mum left with me when I was small, but he didn’t bear a grudge. In fact he was sorry to hear that she’d died and he blamed himself for her leaving him all those years ago. I really got to know him in those last few weeks and I came to understand something of the fisherman’s passion for the sea—it’s a way of life, a vocation, I suppose, and it causes rifts in so many marriages. He loved it though to his dying day and he opened my eyes to the magnificence of the sea... That’s why I ended up at Jenny Brown’s Bay.”
“Jenny Brown’s Bay,” Jason repeated slowly. “Is that a fishing town then?”
Ali nodded. “It’s just a village really. I still have a cottage rented there. Jake and I split you see...”
“Well I’m not surprised at that,” Jason cut in. “Never did like the guy.”
“But you only ever met him a couple of times.”
“Two times too many then. You’re well rid of him.”
“I’ve come to realize that,” said Ali sadly. “Anyway, I was still cut up about my dad when Bobby, a student of Jake’s who I’d gotten to know, suggested I stay at his parents’ pub for a while. I’d decided to write an article on fishing, in memory of my dad. He thought I could do some research there.”
“And did you?”
“Oh yes,” she nodded eagerly, remembering. “I used to have long chats with Bobby’s brother Tom, he was passionate about fishing just like Dad... In fact all Bobby’s family were. And I talked to some of the old