If this was one of her students, she’d give them a sheet of art paper and say, ‘Paint it for me.’ Dreams needed expression.
But one look at this man’s face told her this was no dream. It might not happen in her world, but it did happen.
‘She was killed instantly,’ he said, and he was no longer looking at her. He was staring out at the blank wall of the fisherman’s co-op, but she knew he was seeing somewhere far off. Somewhere dreadful. ‘Bailey was shot as well,’ he told her. ‘It’s taken almost a year to get him this far. To see him safe.’
What to say after a statement like that? She tried not to blurt out a hundred questions, but she couldn’t think of the first one.
‘It’s a grim story,’ he said at last. ‘Stupidity at its finest. I’ve needed to tell so many people over the last year, but telling never gets easier.’
‘You’re not compelled to tell me.’
‘You’re Bailey’s teacher. You need to know.’
‘There is that,’ she said cautiously. If she didn’t know a child’s history, it was like walking through a minefield. ‘Oh, Nicholas…’
‘Nick,’ he said savagely, as if the name was important.
‘Nick,’ she said-and waited. ‘It’s okay,’ she said gently. ‘Just tell me as much as I need to know.’
He shrugged at that, a derisory gesture, half mocking. ‘Right. As much as you need to know. I was working on a contract in South Africa, Bailey and Isabelle were with Isabelle’s parents. They were on a boat coming to meet me, they were robbed and Isabelle and Bailey were shot.’
‘Oh, Nick…’
His face stopped her going any further. There was such emptiness.
‘What’s not obvious in that version is my stupidity,’ he said, and she sensed that she was about to get a story that he hadn’t told over and over. He no longer seemed to be talking to her. He seemed somewhere in his head, hating himself, feeding his hatred.
The hatred made her feel ill. She wanted to stop him, but there was no way she could.
If this man needed to talk, ugly or not, maybe she had to listen.
‘As a kid I was…overprotected,’ he said at last into the silence, and the impression that he wasn’t talking to her grew stronger. ‘Only child. Protected at every turn. So I rebelled. I did the modern day equivalent of running away to sea. I studied marine architecture. I designed boats, won prizes, made serious money. I built a series of experimental boats, and I took risks.’
‘Good for you,’ she murmured. Then she added, before she could help herself, ‘Half your luck.’
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘Risks are stupid.’
‘It depends on the risks,’ she said, and thought of how many risks she’d ever encountered. Approximately none.
But then…this wasn’t about her, she reminded herself sharply. Listen.
‘My kind of risks were definitely the stupid kind,’ he said and, despite her interjection, she still had the impression he was talking to himself. ‘Black run skiing, ocean racing in boats built for speed rather than safety, scuba-diving, underwater caving… Fantastic stuff, but the more dangerous the better. And then I met Isabelle. She was like me but more so. Risks were like breathing to her. The stuff we did… Her parents were wealthy so she could indulge any whim, and Isabelle surely had whims. In time, I learned she was a little bit crazy. If I skied the hardest runs, she didn’t ski runs at all. She skied into the unknown. Together, we did crazy stuff.’
‘But you had fun?’ She was trying to keep the wistfulness from her voice, not sure if she was succeeding. Nick glanced at her as if he’d forgotten she was there, but he managed a wry nod.
‘We did. We built
He hesitated then, and she saw where memories of good times ended and the pain began. ‘But when I held him…’ he said softly, ‘for the first time I could see where my parents were coming from. Not as much, of course, but a bit.’
‘So no black ski runs for Bailey?’
He was back staring at the side of the co-op. No longer talking to her. ‘There were no ski runs where we lived but there was no way Isabelle was living in a house. We kept living on the boat. It caused conflict between us but we kept travelling. We kept doing stuff we loved. Only…when I saw the risky stuff I thought of Bailey. We started being careful.’
‘Sensible.’
‘Isabelle didn’t see it like that.’
Silence.
This wasn’t her business, she thought; she also wasn’t sure whether he’d continue. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to continue.
‘You want to finish this another day?’ she ventured, and he shook his head, still not looking at her.
‘Not much more to tell, really. I’d married a risk-taker, and Isabelle was never going to change. Bailey and I just held her back. We were in England when I got a contract to design a new yacht. She was to be built in South Africa. I needed to consult with the builders.’
‘So you went.’
‘We were docked at a pretty English port. Isabelle’s parents own the world’s most ostentatious cruiser and they were docked nearby. Isabelle was taking flying lessons and they were keeping her happy. Everyone seemed settled; we were even talking about enrolling Bailey in kindergarten. So I flew across to South Africa. But Isabelle was never settled for long. She got bored with her flying lessons and persuaded her parents to bring their boat out to surprise me.’
‘To Africa?’
‘In a boat that screamed money.’ There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice now. The pain. ‘To one of the poorest places on the planet. When I found out they were on their way I was appalled. I knew the risks. I had security people give them advice. I sent people out to meet them, only they were hit before they arrived.’
‘Hit?’
He shrugged. ‘What do you expect? Poverty everywhere, then along comes a boat with a swimming pool, crew in uniform, dollar signs practically painted on the sides. But they’d had good advice. If you’re robbed, once you’re boarded, just hand over everything. Isabelle’s father carried so much cash it’d make your head swim. He thought he could buy himself out of any trouble. Maybe he could, but Isabelle…she decided to defend,’ he said savagely.
Misty knew she didn’t exist for him right now. There was no disguising the loathing in his voice and it was directed only at himself. ‘I knew she owned a gun before we were married, but she told me she’d got rid of it. And I believed her. Of all the stupid…’ He shook his head as if trying to clear a nightmare but there was no way he could clear what he was going through. ‘So, as her father tried to negotiate, she came up from below deck, firing. At men who made their living from piracy. Two shots-that’s all it took. Two shots and she was dead and Bailey was close to it.’
She closed her eyes, appalled. ‘So that’s why you’re here,’ she whispered.
‘That’s why we’re here. Bailey’s spent a year in and out of hospital while I’ve researched the safest place in the world to be. I can design boats from here. Most of my designs are built internationally. I’ve hired an off-sider who can do the travelling for me. I can be a stay-at-home dad. I can keep Bailey safe.’
‘You’ll wrap him in cotton wool?’ She felt suddenly, dreadfully anxious. ‘Small risks can be exciting,’ she ventured. ‘I can make my bike stand on its front wheel. That’s meant the odd bruise and graze. There’s risks and risks.’
‘I will not take risks with my son’s life.’
The pain behind that statement… It was almost overwhelming.
What to do?
Nothing.
‘No one’s asking you to,’ she said, deciding brisk and practical was the way to go. ‘You have a house to organise, a child to care for and boats to design. Our vet, Fred, has plans for your painting, and I might even persuade you to get a dog. You can settle down and live happily ever after. But if you’d never had those
