Chapter 4
TARA
Jed’s smiles and eyerolls following the messages from Lucy and his jovial insistence on continuing with our plans didn’t fool me.
I knew how much Aaron had meant to him and how he longed to still have him in his life.
I couldn’t get my head around Ingrid’s actions.
What sort of woman drags her family to the other side of the world just to resume a relationship with her ex-boyfriend?
What sort of woman knows her husband isn’t the father of her son but keeps it secret because the biological father doesn’t want kids?
And what sort of woman takes that son away from a loving dad and makes out that the dad rejected him when the truth emerged about his parentage?
The thoughtlessness and selfishness that certain human beings were capable of never ceased to amaze me.
I’d come across more than my fair share of them in my time but I’d also encountered the best of humanity – foster parents who opened up their homes to scared, lost children and people like my friend Jim and his team of volunteers at The Hope Centre who worked tirelessly to support the homeless and vulnerable in our community.
‘If you do spot Aaron and you want to leave, just say,’ I told Jed. ‘I’ll be right by your side.’
He squeezed my hand as we set off down the slope once more.
‘So, have you ever taken part in the Boxing Day dip?’ I asked, eager to take his mind off Aaron and Ingrid.
‘Every year from when I was ten until I left for Aus. Dad and I did it together and Mum’s copout was that somebody needed to take the photos.’
‘Did you wear fancy dress?’
‘Of course! If you’re going to hurl yourself into the North Sea in the middle of winter, you might as well do it in style. We won the fancy dress prize a few times too.’
‘Dressed as what?’
‘Let me think… One year Dad was a policeman and I was a burglar and he chased me into the sea blowing a whistle and brandishing a truncheon. Another year we were Captain Hook and Peter Pan, but the best one was when we did Dorothy and the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.’
‘No way! Who was Dorothy?’
‘Dad, although I’d have happily done it myself. My parents were into amateur dramatics when they were younger – it was how they met – and Dad played the dame in a couple of Christmas pantomimes. I think he missed those days so that was his chance to channel his inner panto dame again.’
I tried to conjure up an image of Richie as a pantomime dame but I couldn’t see it. He was confident but not flamboyant and he always dressed so conservatively.
‘I can’t picture your dad in a dress and wig. I’m going to need to see those photos.’
‘I’ll get Mum to dig them out.’
‘Oh, no, you won’t!’ I joked, unable to resist the pantomime pun.
‘Oh, yes, I will!’
When we reached the seafront, Jed suggested we head straight for the harbour.
The dip started at eleven so we’d have just enough time to see the fancy dress costumes before the participants took the plunge.
I was looking forward to seeing the outfits but also to seeing everyone’s reactions as they entered the water.
I loved swimming and favoured wild water but stuck to the indoor pool during the winter months as, even with a thick wetsuit, I found the sea a little too bracing at this time of year and, of course, it was typically a lot choppier in the winter and unsafe for swimming.
The dip took place in the harbour where the protection from the sea walls meant the water was significantly calmer.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ventured down to the seafront during the day.
I was usually there early in the morning to swim – although I favoured North Bay over South Bay for that – or during the evening if I fancied a walk, so I was used to seeing the place fairly deserted.
We weren’t far past high tide and, with only a narrow stretch of beach showing, everyone had been forced onto either the path running alongside the railings or the one in front of the arcades, shops and food outlets.
It was busy, although not a patch on how it could get at the height of the summer season, so it didn’t take us too long to reach the harbour.
A large crowd was gathered, leaning over the railings as the dip participants milled around on the slipway. Our local radio station, Bay Radio, was hosting the event and, as we approached, a ten-minute warning was issued.
‘I think we might have just missed them announcing the fancy dress winners,’ Jed said. ‘They do that before the dip so they can take photos while the costumes are still dry and intact.’
‘And I can imagine everyone just wants to get dry and warmed up afterwards,’ I said.
‘Exactly.’
Spotting a small gap by the railings, I took my place and Jed leaned against me as we scanned the participants, seeking out our favourite outfits.
There were several who weren’t dressed up but it seemed that the majority had thrown themselves into it fully.
A seaside theme proved popular with pirates, mermaids, sailors and sea creatures as well as a group dressed in Victorian-style long bathing costumes, the men sporting handlebar moustaches.
Alongside them was a mishmash of ideas – nuns, showgirls, superheroes, animals and clowns.
‘Urgh! I hate clowns,’ the woman beside me muttered to her female companion. ‘Every year I come down hoping there won’t be any and every year they’re here. I’m going to have nightmares tonight.’
‘Do you know who won the fancy dress?’ I asked her.
‘Not a clown, thank God!’ She rolled her eyes at me. ‘The octopus won first prize.’
I could see why. The octopus was purple with orange spots on it and the person inside it was operating several of the tentacles. Whoever had made that costume had gone to some serious effort and I hoped it survived the dip.
‘Humpty Dumpty came second,’ her companion said, ‘and the guy in the old-fashioned diving costume was third.’
As she said that, I spotted them both and was so impressed with the creativity, especially from Humpty Dumpty sitting on his wall, although I couldn’t imagine he’d get very far into the sea dressed like that.
Before long, the Bay Radio host led the onlookers in a ten-second countdown and I glanced at Jed, who smiled back at me as we both shouted along with the crowd.
I was really enjoying myself and I was so glad for Jed that we’d stuck with our plans because he was clearly loving it too.
I could imagine him focusing right now on happy memories of doing the Boxing Day dip with his dad rather than painful ones of having his son taken away from him.
A klaxon sounded and a cheer erupted from the onlookers as the participants ran down the rest of the slipway into the sea.
We weren’t close enough for me to see their facial expressions but there was no missing the squeals as they entered the cold water.
Some braved a full-on plunge whereas others took tentative steps.
‘Is it a race?’ I asked Jed, noticing several people swimming at pace further into the harbour.
‘Sort of. The main point is to get sponsorship. Half the money raised goes to the RNLI and the other half to a different local charity each year. Some of the entrants do little more than submerge their shoulders. Look! A few have given up already.’
Sure enough, there were a handful of people already making their way back up the slipway and eagerly grabbing hold of towels.
‘Some splash about a bit,’ he added, and I laughed as the group of men dressed as nuns splashed water at each other.
‘But there’s a buoy where the harbour opens out and those who want to race can do that.
There’s a medal for the first one back and it can get pretty competitive which is a shame because, to me, it should really be about the fun and fundraising. ’
I spotted the orange buoy and eight or nine swimmers racing towards it. The RNLI’s inshore lifeboat was poised for action nearby and there were several other crew members and lifeguards on the slipway.
‘It’s going to be tight for the win,’ I said. ‘Three clear frontrunners now.’
‘Or should that be frontswimmers?’ Jed said which had me, clown-hater and her friend all groaning.
The three fastest swimmers made it to the buoy and the one in third position was closing the gap. As they rounded the buoy, returning towards the shore, they swam into front place. I had no idea who any of them were but it was exciting to watch.
There was a shout and it seemed the person in third place was now in trouble, flailing in the water.
The leader stopped and swam back to them, raising their hand in the air as they supported the struggling swimmer.
Moments later, the inshore lifeboat raced to their aid, hauling them both out of the sea before speeding off past the harbour walls.
Presumably they were taking them directly to the lifeboat station as there were too many people still in the water to allow them to approach the slipway safely.
Clown-hater tutted loudly. ‘Well, that’s put a dampener on things.’
I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to make eye contact with her as I didn’t support her reaction.
Yes, it was a shame there’d been an incident but it wasn’t like the swimmer had deliberately put themselves in danger.
She could be a little more charitable when she didn’t know what had happened.
It could have been something life-threateningly serious like a cardiac arrest although my guess was an attack of cramp, which was much more common when swimming in cold water.
They’d likely be frustrated with themselves for dropping out of the race and embarrassed at having a cramping episode in front of hundreds of people, even though it could happen to anyone.
‘Want to stay any longer?’ Jed asked me.
I shook my head. The race had been won and most swimmers were out of the water now or close to the slipway so there didn’t seem to be much point in sticking around.
‘Do you think the winner was aware of what was happening behind them?’ I said as we set off back along the seafront.
‘There’s no way they could’ve missed the swimmer in front of them turning back. I think they saw their opportunity for a win and went for it, which isn’t exactly in the spirit of a fundraising event.’
We heard the winner of the race being announced but there didn’t seem to be much of a reaction from the crowd, indicating that they might have drawn the same conclusion.
‘What next?’ I asked Jed.
‘There’s a raft race at noon, then a five-a-side football final on the beach at one, a few stalls and a couple of other activities.’
He explained that each football team represented different businesses in South Bay – workers or owners of the arcades, shops, pubs, cafés, a team of fishermen and a team from the RNLI.
There’d been a league running across December and the final this year was fishermen versus arcades.
Neither of us were particularly bothered about watching the football but I was interested in the raft race so we decided to check out the stalls set up outside the lifeboat station before that began and go for lunch afterwards.
There was an ambulance parked on the forecourt but no sign of any paramedics so presumably they were inside dealing with the swimmers.
Jed and I made our way round the stalls and, looking at the signage, it appeared that each was being run by a different charity.
There were several tombolas, stands selling cakes, sweets, pre-loved toys and games, and a bookstall.
Spotting the branding for The Hope Centre above the bookstall and Jim behind the table, I led Jed over.
‘You’ve just missed Zoe,’ Jim told me after I’d introduced Jed.
‘Bad timing! Will she be back?’
He shook his head. ‘She had to be somewhere else but I passed your message on. If she doesn’t stop by in the next week or so, let me know and I’ll give her a nudge.’
Zoe had captured my attention yesterday when I’d been helping out with Christmas dinner at The Hope Centre.
Physically, she looked a little like I had in my late teens but there was something about her expression – a lost, haunted look – which resonated with me, reminding me how I’d felt after fleeing from my past and landing in Whitsborough Bay.
Jim had told me that he didn’t know Zoe very well as she’d only started going to The Hope Centre a few months earlier but he’d learned that she was seventeen and had left her home in Teesside three years before.
He suspected abuse but I knew from previous conversations with him that he never pushed service users to share anything about their past. He made it clear that his team were there if they wanted to talk but they were never obligated to do so.
He’d told me that it could take years to build enough trust for them to open up and some never did.
I’d felt compelled to do something to help Zoe and had asked Jim to encourage her to stop by the café for a hot meal when it suited her.
I didn’t know what I could do but something in my gut told me I had to help her.
Jed and I bought several tickets for each tombola and won a box of chocolates and a bottle of children’s sparkly unicorn bubble bath which he said Lucy would love. As we moved away from the lifeboat station, I noticed several people crouching down and placing something along the kerb.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘That’s the mile of pennies although there’s usually other coins too. They start it from outside Pleasureland and people add coins to it across the day. The hope is that they’ll stretch as far as the Bay Pavilion, although that’s further than a mile.’
‘I’m assuming the money goes to charity.’
‘Yes, volunteers collect the coins during the football final and they go to a different local charity each year.’
I rummaged in my purse for change and laid down all the coins I could find.
How had I lived in Whitsborough Bay for fourteen and a half years and missed all of this?
There was such a lot happening for great causes and the atmosphere was so friendly.
It saddened me that I’d shut myself away for so long but that wasn’t who I was anymore and there was no benefit in dwelling on regrets.
‘I don’t envy the job of picking all of them up,’ I said, wiping my sandy fingers down my jeans.
‘Me neither,’ Jed said after adding the coins from his pockets to the row, and wiping his fingers down his jeans too.
Suddenly he grabbed my arm, pulling in a sharp intake of breath.
‘That’s Billy by the ambulance,’ he murmured. ‘Which means Aaron must be nearby.’