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  ‘He didn’t mind?’ Jess was surprised.

  Tom grinned. ‘Mind? He’s propped up against the bar with Brian Rowse putting the world to rights. Alan will need a crowbar to shift them. Come on in the kitchen.’

  ‘And me?’ Gill asked.

  ‘’Course, Viv too. We’d never have got through tonight without the pair of you.’

  Even with the hatch and both kitchen doors closed Tom kept his voice low. ‘I rang Khalid’s friend, Masoud. To begin with he wouldn’t even admit to knowing Khalid and Farah. But when I told him about the baby, and that we were doing our best to get them across to France within the next twenty-four hours he apologised. He works for an IT company and can get Khalid work. His wife, Nasrin, is a doctor. She’ll make sure Farah and the baby get proper care.

  ‘I have to phone them again as soon as we know where Khalid and Farah will be touching down.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to Roger?’ Jess asked.

  Tom nodded. ‘He’s free in the morning. Though he’s booked to give a flying lesson at two he’ll postpone it if necessary.’

  ‘That’s very good of him. Obviously he’ll have to be paid.’

  ‘He said as long as we cover the fuel and landing charges, he’s happy.’

  Gill’s brows climbed. ‘Dear life, you surely got a good friend there.’

  Tom grinned. ‘He loves to fly and this will be a welcome break in routine. His words, not mine.’ He caught Jess’s eye and she grinned.

  ‘Where will you take them?’

  ‘Nowhere until the baby’s birth has been registered. Everything has to be legal.’

  ‘The register office in town is open Thursdays from 9.30 until 11,’ Viv said. ‘I was in there after Father died back in March.’

  ‘I’ll have Khalid on the doorstep at 9.25 with his passport. Annie wrote down the date and time the baby was born, his weight, and his parents’ names. She put the village as his place of birth.’

  ‘Bless her for thinking of that,’ Jess said.

  ‘As soon as we get back, we’ll pick up Farah and the baby and drive to Bodmin airfield.’

  ‘Yes, but where are they flying to?’

  ‘Roger said if he flies them into a quiet airfield like Quimper there’ll be fewer people around but they may be remembered. Cherbourg is much busier but they’ll be just two more in the crowd. The flight will take around forty-five minutes depending on the wind.’ He pushed away from the worktop he’d been leaning against. ‘It’s their lives, their choice. I’ll go and ask.’

  Gill laid her hand on Jess’s forearm. ‘Look, if there’s nothing else Viv and me can do we’ll get on home. I aren’t used to all this excitement.’

  Jess hugged her. ‘Thanks so much.’

  ‘Mind you let us know what happens.’

  ‘I will, I promise. Night, Viv. And thanks.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. This is what Christmas is really about, isn’t it?’

  After they’d gone, Tom turned the key and followed Jess upstairs. ‘What are we going to do with them tonight? They can’t stay here in the dark. And if they leave the light on someone will notice.’

  ‘I’ll have them,’ Jess said.

  ‘Jess, your cottage is right in the middle of the village. You’ve got Ivy next door. There’s no way we’ll get them out in the morning without someone seeing. They’ll be safer at mine. My nearest neighbour is a hundred yards away. Chris will be over for the weekend. But he’s not coming until Friday evening.’

  An hour later, while Farah was in the bathroom, Jess and Tom made up his bed with fresh sheets. After a single glance exchanged as she shook out the bottom sheet, Jess kept her head bent as they smoothed and tucked. She wondered if his silence meant that he too found the intimacy unsettling.

  ‘I didn’t expect to be doing this tonight,’ he said. ‘Not for strangers anyway. I mean, I hoped one day we – but there’s no rush. Not that you would have had to – I’d have done all this before –’

  ‘Tom,’ Jess smothered a grin. ‘You’re in deep enough. Stop digging.’

  ‘Right. I was just saying. You know, to keep in mind for the future –’

  ‘Tom!’ While she put a fresh cover on the duvet, he emptied one of the dresser drawers, padding it with a soft blanket as a makeshift cot.

  By the time Khalid emerged from the bathroom, Farah was propped up in bed nursing the baby. Jess placed two mugs of cocoa and a bottle of water on the bedside table.

  ‘Goodnight. If you need anything we’re just downstairs.’

  ‘Thank you –’ Khalid began.

  ‘It was our pleasure,’ she cut him short with a smile. ‘Try to sleep. You’ll have another long day tomorrow.’ Closing the door she went down to the sitting room.

  Tom was kneeling in front of the woodburner feeding in more logs. Seeing the long deep sofa took Jess back to her teens when this had been his parents’ house. Then the floral pattern on the loose covers had been crisp and bright. Now, faded by sunlight and washing, the colours were blurred pastel shades. Soft cushions in a flattened heap at one end showed his favourite place to watch TV.

  Sinking onto the sofa she released a heartfelt sigh. Dusting off his hands on the seat of his jeans Tom sat down and gave her a gentle push so she fell sideways onto the cushions.

  ‘Stay.’ He lifted her legs, eased off her shoes and started massaging her feet.

  She turned so her head and shoulders rested comfortably on the cushions ‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’

  ‘Some carol concert that was.’

  Jess nodded. ‘I’m shattered.’ As his strong fingers kneaded, she closed her eyes and felt herself drift. There was something she had intended to ask him. But as the stress of the evening melted away she couldn’t remember what it was.

  She woke with a start and in the dim light of a table lamp on the bookcase saw Tom sprawled sound asleep in the armchair by the woodburner.

  She sat up and the blanket he had laid over her fell to the floor. The soft sound woke him. For a long moment they looked at one another. Then Jess glanced at her watch and winced.

  ‘Where did the night go?’ She swung her feet to the floor.

  Tom stood up. ‘You know where the clean towels are. I’ll put the kettle on and fetch Annie.’

  While Khalid showered and shaved, Annie bathed the baby, then Farah showered and dressed. Tom prepared breakfast. Jess stripped the bed and loaded the washing machine.

  At ten past nine Tom and Khalid left for town, dropping Annie off on the way. Farah fed the baby and Jess washed up. At five minutes to ten she heard the throaty rumble of Tom’s pick-up and at ten fifteen they were on their way to Bodmin Airfield.

  An overnight shower had left the air crisp and clear. A gentle breeze pushed cotton wool clouds across a sky the colour of forget-me-nots.

  The pick-up had a crew cab that seated four. Jess rode in front next to Tom, with Khalid, Farah, and the baby in the rear where they were less likely to be seen.

  The roads were quiet. The rush to school and work was over and Christmas shoppers were still at home.

  In the back Khalid and Farah talked softly, their voices blending with the engine noise. Jess remembered and turned to Tom.

  ‘Is now a good time to tell me?’ As he glanced at her she prompted. ‘Chris? Yesterday? In court?’

  After a moment’s hesitation he gave a brief nod. ‘Mick Carter gave evidence for the coastguard. Mick’s a good bloke. I’ve known him years. He told the magistrates he believed the tip-off had come from one of the smugglers.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘Mick said in his opinion Chris was a throwaway. It was worth it to the gang to shop him and lose a few thousand cigarettes. That would keep the coastguard busy while the rest of the cargo was put ashore somewhere else. Mick told me if it had been up to him he’d have given Chris a good talking to and let him off. But now with these new tougher laws to tackle tobacco and cigarette smuggling, he didn’t have a choice. He
had to prosecute.’

  ‘And Chris pleaded guilty?’

  Tom nodded. ‘Not that he could have done anything else seeing he was caught with the stuff. But his guilty plea pleased the magistrates. The chairlady, or whatever they’re called now, said it showed he was taking responsibility for what he’d done and as it’s his first offence they gave him a six-month referral order.’

  ‘How is he?’ Jess saw how talking about it had deepened lines of strain across his forehead and the outer corners of his eyes.

  ‘Shaken, and so he damn well should be. Whoever got him into it gave him twenty quid with a promise of eighty more once the load was safely ashore. They knew they weren’t going to give him another penny. They knew he wouldn’t “grass” either.’

  ‘How could they be sure?’ Jess asked, then realised. ‘They threatened him.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. The magistrates asked who got him into it. But he refused to say. The lady in charge asked if he’d been threatened with violence. But it wasn’t him they were going to hurt. The bastards said they would burn the yard.’

  ‘Oh Tom,’ Jess murmured, appalled.

  ‘Poor little sod. He thought it would be easy money and he’s saving up to buy a car soon as he’s passed his test.’ He rubbed his forehead, sighed. ‘Susan says it’s my fault. If I’d been a better father, spent more time with him –’

  ‘Hang on a minute. When your father died the boatyard was in desperate straits financially.’

  ‘That’s true, but –’

  ‘You were working eighteen-hour days to keep it going. Then Susan wanted a divorce –’

  ‘Because I was always working.’

  ‘To save the business that paid for the house she’s living in. Tom, you did the best you could in the circumstances. Stop beating yourself up.’

  The smile warmed his eyes as he glanced at her. ‘You always say the right thing.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s the truth. What is this referral order?’

  ‘Chris has to go in front of a panel and sign up to a contract of work in the community. Jobs like helping the village volunteer group clean out choked ditches and trim overgrown footpaths. The person supervising him will report back to the panel. I told the magistrates I’ll give him weekend work at the yard.’ Tom snorted. ‘I offered him a job when he turned sixteen but he didn’t want to know.’

  ‘Let me guess, he wanted to hang out with his mates. What did he say this time?’

  ‘Jumped at it. I think knowing they deliberately set him up, then having to go to court, has given him one hell of a shock. He also let on that he doesn’t like Susan’s new man bossing him around. So it looks like he’ll be spending more time with me.’

  ‘That will be good for both of you.’

  ‘I told him straight he won’t get special treatment. But if he does the crap jobs without complaining and shows interest I’ll take him on as an apprentice.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Not a lot. You know what teenagers are.’

  She laughed. ‘I remember it well.’

  ‘If I ever get hold of the bastards who set him up … Just as well I won’t, else it would be me in court. Chris knows he’s been lucky. Still, if he buys a car with money he’s earned, he won’t want to wreck it.’ He looked across at her with a wry grin. ‘When do you stop worrying?’

  Jess laughed. ‘You don’t. It arrives when they are born and it’s always there at the back of your mind.’

  ‘Thanks for that.’

  ‘You did ask.’ Jess patted his forearm. ‘I’m glad for you, Tom.’

  ‘Here we are.’

  Roger met them at the door to the tiny terminal building. Wearing an olive-green flying suit he was lean and wiry with a narrow face, blue eyes, and a grey crew cut.

  ‘You made good time.’

  Introductions were made, hands shaken, and he smiled at the sleeping baby. After he had examined their passports and the baby’s pristine birth certificate he returned them to Khalid.

  ‘The forecast is excellent so it should be a quick, comfortable flight. I’ve already done all the checks so we’re good to go.’

  While Khalid pumped Tom’s hand, his voice rough and incoherent, Jess hugged Farah whose face was wet with tears.

  ‘Thank you, Jess. We will never forget, never.’

  ‘Be happy.’ Jess bent and gently kissed the baby’s forehead. His skin was warm and soft and his sweet baby smell brought back vivid memories of Rob and Sam just a few hours old and herself exhausted and euphoric. She stepped back, her vision blurred, and felt Tom’s arm encircle her shoulder and draw her close.

  She wiped her eyes and a few moments later they watched the red and white plane speed down the runway and climb into the sky.

  Back in the pick-up Tom started the engine then turned to her. ‘Doing anything special on Christmas Day?’

  She shook her head. ‘Sam will be in Oz. Rob and Fiona are having their first Christmas with Helen in their own home which I think is a wise decision. I’ll phone Rob and Fiona this evening and ask if I can have Helen for a day sometime between now and next Wednesday.’ She pulled a face. ‘When Rob rang yesterday I turned him down.’

  ‘You’ve got jobs to finish.’

  ‘Yes, I have. But after last night –’

  When she broke off he nodded and she knew he understood.

  ‘I can work while she has her nap, and I’ll put in a couple of evenings. What about you? Are you doing anything special?’

  He shook his head. ‘Chris will be over this weekend. But Susan wants him with her on Christmas Day.’

  Jess nodded.

  ‘So I thought –’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was wondering – how about you and me doing nothing special at my place?’

  She met his gaze and felt her heart give a little leap. Maybe it wasn’t too soon after all.

  The End

  Rachel’s Recipe

  Cornish Splits

  2oz (50g) lard

  1lb (450g) white flour

  1 tsp salt

  1oz (25g) fresh yeast or 8 grams of dried yeast

  1 tsp caster sugar

  1/2 pint milk

  Warm the milk. Cream sugar and fresh yeast together and mix with the milk. If using dried yeast add this and the sugar to the flour after sieving it with the salt. Rub in the lard. Add the warm milk and mix to form a soft dough. Knead thoroughly, leave in a warm place to rise. Knead again then divide into pieces and shape into round buns. Place on a lightly floured baking tray and leave to prove once more. Bake for about 15 minutes at 400*F/200C/gas mark 6

  Serve cold, cut open and spread with jam then topped with clotted cream. Delicious!

  Titles by Rachel Ennis

  For more information about Rachel Ennis

  and other Accent Press titles

  please visit

  www.accentpress.co.uk

  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015

  ISBN 9781783759859

  Copyright © Rachel Ennis 2015

  The right of Rachel Ennis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon CF45 4SN

 

 

 
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