A Friend In Need

A ROMANTIC SHORT STORY BY TERESA ASHBY

Marcy needed a day away to think about her feelings…

Marcy considered popping a jacket in her backpack when she saw it was a little foggy out.

But the forecast promised a bright, warm day ahead and she’d always been one to think positive.

“You always look for the sunshine, Marcy,” her late husband William used to say, and it was true.

Her proposed day at the seaside was to give herself breathing space, time to think and get things straight in her mind.

She wanted to go somewhere that she and William had never visited, somewhere that didn’t have any memories attached to it.

“I’m off now, Hugo,” she said, as she always did when leaving the house.

The cat looked up from the armchair and yawned as if to say, “Close the door quietly on your way out.”

She stepped out and looked round just in case Matthew was lurking about.

Oh, that was unfair.

Matthew didn’t lurk. He was a sweet, well-meaning soul, but after William died, he took it upon himself to look out for her.

She’d stop for a coffee at the garden centre and he’d slide into the seat opposite.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’d say as if it were a happy accident.

Or he’d bump into her at the cinema.

“Mind if I join you? I’ve been fancying that film for ages.”

It wasn’t that she minded his company – far from it – but she had decisions to make and she couldn’t make them with Matthew around.

As if by magic he appeared at the end of the drive.

“I thought you weren’t leaving until nine o’clock,” he remarked.

He was dressed for a day out. Surely he wasn’t planning on tagging along.

“I thought you might like some company,” he said, smiling. “We could go in my car.”

He was such a nice man, but she had to turn him down.

“Actually, I’m looking forward to driving myself. You really don’t have to come, Matthew.”

“I want to. I’ve always wanted to go there and it’s nice to have company. You don’t mind, do you?”

But it’s my day trip, Marcy thought, as she smiled and said, “Of course I don’t”, even though she did, a bit.

“What are you plans for the day?” he asked as they headed for the coast.

“I’ll know when I get there,” she said, deciding to try one more time to put him off. “You don’t have to stick with me, though.

“We can each go our own way.”

“I’d rather spend the day with you, Marcy, but if you’d rather be on your own…”

“No, no, of course not.”

When they arrived at the car park, Matthew paid for parking using his phone app.

“It looks lovely, doesn’t it?” he commented with a grin as they stepped out into the fog.

It was much thicker than it had been at home.

“Wonderful,” she agreed. “Look at that view! Fog, fog and more fog.”

They both laughed, then Marcy went to look at the notice board just outside the car park.

“It says they do a tour of the town starting at ten,” she told him. “Shall we go along?”

“Sounds good to me.”

She checked out the map and pointed down the road.

“I think we go that way.”

They walked slowly along the narrow cobbled streets, where mist swirled like smoke while foghorns bleated mournfully in the harbour.

“Down there, I think, Matthew,” she said when she saw a group of shadowy figures standing beneath a pub sign.

“The Crow’s Nest. That’s where it said the tour was starting.”

“Spooky,” Matthew said with a grin.

A young woman stood in the pub doorway.

“Good morning, everyone, and welcome,” she greeted them. “I’m Fern and I’ll be taking you on a tour of our wonderful town today.

“I’ve many treats in store for you, but to start would you like to tell me your names?”

There were only eight of them in the group and they were a friendly bunch.

“It may not look very beautiful now,” Fern admitted, “but just wait until the fog clears!

“We’re going to start our tour here, at the Crow’s Nest.

“Originally built in the fifteenth century, it has always been a popular haunt of sailors, pirates and smugglers.

“The landlord has agreed to let me show you the cellar. Is everyone OK with steps?”

They went silently, almost reverently, down into a typical pub cellar.

“As you can imagine, it would once have looked very different down here centuries ago,” Fern said, her voice echoing slightly.

“No electric lights, of course.

“But through here, it is much as it was originally. Please take care and follow me.

“The light is very dim and the floor can be slippery.”

They shuffled along in the dim light.

“This is where two tunnels have long since been bricked up. If you press your ear to the wall, you can hear the sea.

“It is believed that there is a warren of tunnels running beneath the town.”

Marcy pressed her ear to the cold, damp wall, and yes, she could hear a muted rushing sound.

She could imagine the smugglers coming over to the pub and hurrying down here with their contraband.

“Matthew,” she began. “I can hear it. Can you?”

She turned, but there was no sign of him.

“At night, some householders report hearing running footsteps down below and the sound of muffled voices,” Fern went on.

If only the walls could speak, Marcy thought. There was definitely an atmosphere, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

When they got back upstairs, Matthew was waiting outside.

He smiled at Marcy.

“Fog’s clearing,” he said. “Look.”

He pointed at the sky where the sun seemed to be swirling in the grey.

“Why didn’t you come down?” Marcy asked. “It was very interesting.”

“I’m sure it was,” he said. “But not for me.”

Not for him? What was that supposed to mean?

She felt slightly miffed that he hadn’t been there to share the experience.

They headed for the quay where the masts of sailing boats could be seen punching through the top of the fog that had seemed to settle over the sea like foam on a glass of beer.

“I didn’t go down to the cellar, Marcy, because I’ve got a bit of a thing when it comes to small, enclosed spaces. I was hoping you could tell me about it.”

“You’re interested?”

“Very,” Matthew replied, and that pleased her more than she expected.

She smiled and repeated what Fern had told them.

“Did you see any spirits?” he asked, and she was about to reply when she realised he was joking.

They reached the jetty and Marcy saw five men and three women lined up.

“We’re about to look round a replica sailing ship. And the Sea Buoys are here to sing us aboard,” Fern explained.

“They’re rehearsing for a festival and I thought it would be a treat for you to hear them.”

The group began to sing in rich, hearty voices.

Marcy couldn’t help singing along.

She was aware of Matthew beside her, tapping his foot.

“That was wonderful!” She clapped her hands when they’d finished. “Thank you!”

Then she hurried to catch up with the others.

“I’ll stay on deck, if you don’t mind,” Matthew said after helping her on to the boat.

It was just as well he did. It was difficult enough for someone as small as Marcy to move round below decks, so it would have been nigh impossible for Matthew.

She could hear the Sea Buoys singing away and it made her skin tingle.

She was certainly getting a feel for the history of the place.

When she came back up, Matthew was standing at the bow, looking out over the water.

A light breeze had blown the rest of the fog away.

He turned to smile at her.

“Good?” he asked.

“Excellent,” Marcy nodded. “Very interesting.”

“Sun’s come out,” Matthew said cheerfully.

They assembled on the jetty and listened to more songs.

As they walked away, a voice rang out, “Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!”

And the other voices merged in.

Marcy found herself humming the tune long after they’d walked too far away to hear any more.

Fern stopped beside a tall lighthouse.

“Last stop of the tour,” she announced.

“Will you be all right, Matthew?” Marcy whispered. “It’ll be a bit closed in, I imagine.”

“I should be OK,” he replied. “If I’m not, I’ll just slide all the way down the banisters.”

Even so, she kept looking back to check on him as he followed her up the steps.

They climbed right to the top and were enjoying the view as Fern told them the history of the lighthouse before it was converted into the town’s museum.

Marcy felt sad that the tour was over and that they would all go their different ways.

“Does anyone fancy having lunch and continuing the tour afterwards?” Fern asked. “I normally wind it up at this stage, but you’re such a lovely lot and there’s so much more to see.”

A cheer went up and they headed back to the Crow’s Nest, where they sat in the beer garden overlooking the sea.

After their meal, as they drank coffee, Marcy leaned towards Matthew.

“Do you miss her, Matthew?”

“Who?”

“Linda.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as if she’d just poked a bruise.

“Yes,” he replied honestly. “Just as you miss William.”

Marcy had lost William a couple of years after Matthew lost Linda.

They’d been friends, the four of them, for a long time, mainly because Matthew and William had known each other since high school.

Marcy had done all she could to help Matthew after Linda died, trying to make sure he wasn’t always alone.

She tried to do it without being obvious.

Bumping into him in the supermarket and inviting him to have a coffee with her before heading home to his empty house.

Sometimes she’d arrive on his doorstep with a cake in a tin or a casserole, saying she’d accidentally made too much.

She’d asked him round for meals, too, but he seldom accepted.

Then she lost William and she was the one going home to an empty house and learning to live on her own.

She looked into Matthew’s earnest eyes.

These past couple of years he’d been returning the favour.

That was why she had wanted to come here alone.

It was neutral ground to get her far from neutral thoughts in some sort of order, and here he was, smiling at her, sending her thoughts into turmoil.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Everyone ready?” Fern asked. “I thought we could have a nice walk to the castle ruins, if you’re up for it.

“We’ll have a stroll round the nature reserve on the way.”

She wasn’t kidding about the castle being ruins. All that was left of it were a few broken walls.

It somehow made Marcy think of her life after William died.

But then she watched as Matthew scrambled up to stand on one of the walls.

He spread out his arms and looked down at Marcy.

“Imagine,” he said, and then he realised she was crying and jumped down.

“What’s wrong, Marcy?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “The wind is quite sharp up here, isn’t it?”

He passed her a clean tissue.

“As long as you’re OK.”

Marcy wanted him to put his arm round her like he used to after William died and give her a squeeze.

When did he stop doing that?

Was it when it became obvious that her feelings towards him had changed?

Or hadn’t he noticed?

Did he just think she didn’t need a hug any more? Or was he afraid to convey the wrong message?

“I just want to say,” she began, but then Fern was speaking again.

“Lifeboat shop and museum, anyone?” she asked and off they trooped again.

Back down at the quay, the sea was twinkling in the sunshine and hopeful seagulls were patrolling up and down the sea wall hoping for scraps.

“You haven’t said anything about payment,” Matthew reminded Fern when they reached the lifeboat station.

“There is no charge,” Fern informed him. “I do it because I love sharing the history of my home town.

“However, if you want to make a donation to a local charity, I won’t stop you.”

“RNLI?” Matthew suggested.

“Perfect.” Fern smiled. “And now I must bid you goodbye.

“I’m off out tonight and I need to get ready. Thank you for a lovely day, everyone.”

She hugged them all.

“Thank you, Fern!” Marcy said, and she felt almost sad when the young woman hurried away.

They spent a long time in the little museum, then browsing in the shop for souvenirs.

When they were done, they headed back to the car park.

“You were about to say something earlier, Marcy,” Matthew reminded her. “I’m not sure if I want to hear it, but I think I should.”

“I came here to make a decision,” Marcy admitted. “I thought you being here would make it more difficult, but actually it’s made it easier.”

His shoulders drooped.

“You want me to back off,” he said. “I’m sorry, Marcy.

“I just love having you as a friend. I’ve been selfish.”

“I know, but that’s not the reason,” she said. “You don’t owe me anything, Matthew, and I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me.”

He blinked.

“You think I’m doing this out of some sort of sense of duty?”

“You’ve pulled away from me recently,” she said. “I can’t even remember the last time you gave me a hug!

“I thought you were distancing yourself ready to step away,” she added. “I wanted to make it easier for you.”

“Distancing myself?” Matthew asked. “Why do you think I tagged along with you today, Marcy?

“I can’t stand being apart from you, not even for a day.”

He bit his lip, which made him look much younger than his years and rather vulnerable.

“I love you, Marcy,” he declared. “That’s the truth of it.

“I stopped hugging you because I was so afraid I’d ruin everything.”

Marcy reached up and cupped his dear face in her hands.

She loved him so much, and she’d been so afraid that she was losing him inch by inch.

“I love you, too. Now kiss me and see how it doesn’t ruin a single thing.”

And Matthew did exactly as he was told.

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