room for another. And if the boats are ill-stared or the men are careless in handling, or the sea wants them more than the land wants them back, then there’s no one anywhere that has prayers strong enough to change things. No. I sighed, I bowed my head. I waited and I wondered if I had hope enough to hope that my father would live. Perhaps I cried a little for a voice said: ‘Don’t cry my little one.’
The dead man spoke: ‘Don’t cry.’
‘Father?’ I said. He held out his hand. I moved towards him and took it. But I could not offer comfort, and neither did he comfort me. His hand shook. He shook with cold or fever. He was half a man.
‘Are you well?’ he asked.
‘I suppose.’
His breath was shallow. I had to tell him:
‘I looked for you. I came looking on the beach before it grew dark.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.’
‘I waited with the man who works the kilns. He was him that found you. He picked you out the sea and brought you back.’
I had so much to say. That I had felt so alone and afraid. What I could not say was that I blamed him for leaving me. I was angry. I was not yet grateful that he was here and alive.
‘Some water. Is there water?’
I let go his hand, glad to have something to do. I poured out water into a cup. It was stone cold. He took it and drank, deeply. He coughed fiercely and lay back, his breathing laboured. I watched him closely and it seemed that what was living in him, in us, in all of us, was trying to claim him back.
The latch went on the door. A draught of cold air, and the man was back. He had firewood; a sack of coal fell to the floor. He filled the grate and lit it. The yellow of the young flames, though they gave no heat, filled the room with the promise of warmth and life.
The man was busy. He lit candles and the lamps. From a bag more bread appeared but with a shake of his head my father refused it. He handed to me cheese and apples which I took without thinking. He spoke to him:
‘You are in quite a bad way. You’ve had too much of the cold. But if you stay warm I think you’ll mend. I’ve seen this ten times before and they all did well. Your girl here has been as brave as a giant. She waited for you; patient as an angel.’
‘She’s a wonderful girl.’
‘You think on this. But when you’re back to yourself, and if you find you’ve had enough of the sea, you can always work for me. Another pair of hands around will make a difference. I reckon you’re a good worker. I can pay you well.’
My father smiled. ‘I’ll think on that, yes.’
‘Right now you fisher-folk, I thinks it’s time to rest. It’s Christmas Eve now, but it’s Christmas Day tomorrow.’
He packed more wood into the stove.
‘And you young lady need your sleep. All’s well now.’
He blew out the lamps, but kept one candle burning on the mantle. He moved a chair next to my father’s bed and settled himself in it. He seemed to prepare himself for keeping a long watch. I did not fall asleep at once. I watched the fire. I watched while the yellow flames died back, leaving the deep red glow of the wood embers. And I stirred in the night. I heard the door, and his footsteps coming and going.
The morning light was silver. It was fresh and new. Snow had fallen. I could see the trees through the window and they where white. They hung heavy with snow. My father was breathing deeply and I was alone with the morning.
The room held its warmth. I looked about. There was food on the table. There was cake and bread and pears. A jug of milk. And two places were laid. By one was the boat I had made. By the other, a long knitted scarf that was rolled up and tied with a ribbon. And on it was resting a scrap of paper upon which someone had written my name.
I went outside and stood alone in the garden. I thought about the story the man had told, and of the good in people, and the slow changing of the year. I thought of that kind man that had helped me so much. He asked no questions of us. He did not judge. He gave without thought of what he would get in return. I pulled my new scarf tight around me and I hurried through the new fallen snow, and down the lane to ask him to be together with us this Christmas Day.
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