Letters to Lincoln

“Is that…?”

I held up my hand. “Don’t go there, Daniel, please. Right now, I don’t care if it’s fair or not. It’s bloody poor timing and it’s come about because Helen is desperate for money, not because she truly believes Alistair should be entitled to anything. She’s looking out for herself, not her child.”

“Okay,” he said, opening the car door for me.

We drove home while still chatting, mainly about Daniel’s love of his job.

“I’ve had a lovely time, thank you for our date,” I said with a laugh.

“So have I, and if I’ve upset you in any way, I am truly sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m pretty sure I’ll survive. You might have to buy me dinner sometime to make it up to me.”

“Anytime. It’s nice to get out and have a friend,” he said.

I said goodbye and walked to my house. All the lights were blazing so I guessed Dad was back from his date with Colette.

“I’m home,” I called out as I walked through the front door.

“In the kitchen, do you want a cup of tea?” Dad replied.

“Yes, please,” I said, as I kicked off my shoes and hung my jacket up.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked.

“It was interesting. I learned a lot about Miller and Daniel. I think I’ll call Miller tomorrow and see if we can meet up.”

“We’ve got some storms coming in over the next couple of days, maybe you should arrange for him to visit you here. I’m not sure my old car is suitable for driving in the rain.”

“I will, but I’m sure you’re car is waterproof,” I replied with a chuckle.

“I’m thinking more of you aquaplaning into a hedge. I’m rather fond of Mertle.”

“Mertle?”

“Mertle the Mercedes,” he said, smiling as he handed me a cup of tea.

His car was, I guessed, a classic and he’d owned Mertle for many years.

“I’ll be sure to invite Miller here. I wouldn’t want to hurt Mertle if I can help it.”

“Good girl. Now, I’m off to bed. Colette can talk the hind legs off a donkey, my poor brain needs to just chill in the dark for a while.”

Dad walked away and my laughter followed him. I sat at the table in the silence and thought. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. It surprised me not to feel the usual guilt that followed any miniscule period of happiness. Maybe I was finally moving forward, as Miller/Lincoln said I would.

I turned off the lights and made my way to bed. Storm or no storm, I was determined to track Miller down the following day and talk. And maybe apologise, depending on how it all went.





Chapter Twenty-One





It was a clap of thunder that woke me in the early hours of the morning. Or so I thought. In fact, although there was a storm howling outside, it was the vibration of my phone against the wood of the cabinet. I reached over, initially knocking it to the floor. I cursed as I fumbled with the light.

I reached down for my phone and saw a text message.

Yes, good to talk. I have something to do. Will be in touch. Miller.

It didn’t dawn on me for a little while just how unlike Miller that text was. Not only was it very clipped but the time it was sent, just after four in the morning, seemed strange.

I shuffled up into a sitting position and double-checked the time with the clock on the chest of drawers.

Are you okay? I typed.

Letting her go soon, he replied.

Letting her go? I frowned as I tried to work out what he meant. That little niggle that I’d felt before started in the back of my mind. I pulled the letters out from Lincoln.

In one he’d mentioned about cutting off his wife’s hair and keeping it. He’d also said that he would throw that hair out to sea at some point. Were we at that some point? I looked out the window at the rain lashing down. Although too dark to see the sea, I had no doubt it would be raging. I pictured the boat Miller had taken down to the harbour; it wasn’t particularly big, more something to sail for fun on a calm day. I hoped he wasn’t thinking of taking that boat out. If he was, I prayed by the time the sun came up, the weather had abated.

I didn’t want to call Daniel at that time of the morning, but I was anxious for Miller. I didn’t think the weather was right for that boat, and I wondered what his state of mind was.

Are you talking about taking your boat out? Miller, would you wait? At least until this storm breaks. Maybe having company might be a nice thing as well?

I held the phone for ages but no reply came. An hour passed, with me deliberating, until eventually, I decided I needed to call Daniel. It might be an overreaction, but I’d rather that than Miller launching a boat in a storm while mentally in a mess.

The call rang and just as I thought it was about to go to voicemail, Daniel answered.

“Hello?” Daniel said, groggily.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to call this early but I’m worried about a text I received from Miller,” I said.

“What text?” he asked, more alert.

I repeated what Miller had sent me.

“Shit. He was passed out when I looked in on him earlier. There was an empty glass on the table, I think he’d been drinking.”

“He had a drink when I visited him. Is he supposed to be sober? He told me he can drink and it doesn’t mean he’ll want more.”

“He was teetotal for a long time. I know he takes a drink every now and again; he seems to be able to control it now. But that still doesn’t sound good, especially sending you that text at that time. I’ll go over and see what I can find out.”

“Will you call me when you get there?”

“Of course, and thank you for letting me know.”

Daniel cut off the call and I climbed out of bed. I pulled on my jeans and a jumper and made my way downstairs, there was no way I could stay in bed.

I made myself some tea and sat watching the phone. It seemed that time slowed down, the clock on the screen took forever to change from one minute to the next. Eventually, it lit up and I received a text.

He’s not here, and neither is the boat. Daniel.

I typed back. He took the boat to the harbour a few days ago.

That’s where I am, no boat. The sea is way too rough for that little boat.

I didn’t reply but called. It was taking too long to type a message.

“How good a sailor is Miller?” I asked when Daniel answered.

“I don’t know the last time he ever took that boat out. I’m surprised it floated. Dani, it hasn’t been on the water for at least a couple of years.”

“Are you at the harbour still?”

“I am. I’m hoping I might catch a fisherman or two. Or maybe I should call the Coastguard?”

“I would. I’m on my way.”

Before he could reply, I cut off the call and started to leave a note for Dad. I grabbed a jacket and slipped on my boots, not bothering with the laces. I picked up the car keys and pocketed my phone. I raced from the house.

The screech as a branch caught the side of the car, in my haste to race down the lane, had me wincing. Whatever damage I’d caused, I’d repair. I took one wrong turn and had to reverse back up the lane to the junction but eventually made it to the harbour. Daniel was without a jacket and soaked through, he was pacing up and down.

I pulled my coat on and left the car. As I flipped up the hood, he noticed me.

“Anything?” I called out. The rain was lashing so hard it was difficult to be heard.

“No. I’ve tried his phone; it just rings. I’ve called the Coastguard, they’ve put a call out for any nearby boats and will launch soon. I’m waiting on a call back from them.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing, we just have to wait.”

Even with a jacket and the hood up, I was getting soaked. My jeans chaffed against the skin on my thighs that had goose bumped with the cold. I began to shiver. While we stood, I scrolled through my phone for the local Royal National Lifeboat Institution, wondering if they would be called in to help. A few minutes later, three men walked down the slipway towards us.

“You looking for the missing lad?” one called out.

“We are, do you know anything?” Daniel asked.

“No, but we heard it over the radio, we’re going out now to help search.”

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