17. Henry
17
HENRY
H enry had been for a run and was making his way home when he paused on the coastal path to look out at the sea. The past three weeks had flown by and he’d been loving village life. He’d been seeing more of Rosa and enjoying her company, but they were still taking things slow. He’d shared with her why he’d come to Cornwall and what had happened with Shona, but Rosa hadn’t told him much about her past, other than about her mum’s tragic death and her father’s neglect of the fact that he even had a daughter. That would be enough to leave a person scarred, but he suspected there was more. When he’d asked about her romantic relationships, she’d clammed up, so he’d told her not to worry and that they could talk about it if she ever felt ready to share.
He wanted to know more about her and to understand her, but he also knew that these things could take time and he was in no rush.
As he gazed out over the sea, it hit him how quiet everything was. He’d seen on the weather forecast that there was a storm coming in, but ran anyway because he wanted to get his heart rate up and to burn off some of the excess energy he had.
The copper-grey sky pressed down, the air heavy and humid despite it being late October. It reminded him of the humidity of summer when thunder and lightning seemed to come out of nowhere, but this was worse because there was a sense of unease in the air. Call it a primal understanding of what was to come or not — something was telling him he needed to rush home before the heavens opened.
When he got back to the village, the wind had picked up and it swirled around his ankles, moaned through the cobbled streets, and made the hairs on his arms stand up under his running top. There was something coming and he had a feeling it was going to be rough. The boats in the harbour were rocking wildly now rather than bobbing like they usually did, and the creaking timbers of their hulls were starting to protest. Waves slapped against their sides sending up salty spray and the air seemed heavy with the scent of fish, tar and the tide.
Before heading for home, he went via the bookshop and peered through the window. Rosa was behind the counter, so he knocked the glass.
‘You OK?’ he asked when she opened the door.
She nodded, but there was something in her eyes that made his gut churn. ‘It will be OK.’
‘I hope so. I hate storms. The forecast said we’re getting the end of a tropical storm and it could be quite severe. I’ve moved the window displays and turned off the computer, but I’m still anxious about it.’
‘Of course you are. But everything will be OK. I guess we need to get used to storms now that we’re living here.’ He smiled in an attempt at reassuring her, but Rosa chewed at a nail uncertainly.
‘Look … I just need to pop home and shower, then I’ll come back and spend the evening with you if you like.’
Rosa blinked and inhaled slowly. ‘There’s no need. You said in your message earlier that you were going to check on Christopher. That’s more important than holding my hand.’ She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Please check that he’s OK, and that Bobby is safe. He likes to sniff around the garden and I’d hate to think of him outside in this.’
‘No problem. I’ll head straight to Christopher’s after my shower. Just phone if you need me.’
‘I will.’
He turned to go.
‘Henry!’ Rosa rushed over to him. ‘Please be careful.’
‘Of course.’ He pressed a hand to her cheek and kissed her forehead. He was conscious of being sweaty and didn’t want to embrace her because of that, but he was worried about her and wished he could stay and comfort her. However, he knew she would worry about Christopher too so he’d make sure the elderly man and his dog were safe and later on, he’d come back to Rosa.