A smell of bacon and toast from downstairs tempted her out of bed, and she pulled on her dressing gown and tiptoed across the floor, hoping that they hadn’t missed breakfast. Her handbag was by the dressing table, and she sat down in front of the mirror to redo her hair and put some lipstick on before Johnny woke up. The fire that had been so welcome the night before had long died down, but she had remembered to hang the wet clothes they had arrived in by the grate when it was at its fiercest and now she was pleased to find them 204nearly dry. After supper, they had undressed shyly in the dark, and Johnny’s shirt and trousers were thrown untidily over a chair: he could knock that on the head, she thought, going over to pick them up; his mother might have been happy to run round after him, but she wasn’t. To her surprise, the clothes were wet through, soaking the arm of the chair and dripping water onto the carpet. Bewildered, she went over to his bed and shook him roughly awake. ‘Have you been out in that storm again?’ she demanded, giving him no time to register what was happening. ‘I told you not to do anything of the sort. You’re a bloody idiot, Johnny Soper. You could have been killed.’

‘I wasn’t, though, was I?’ He grinned at her, but she wasn’t in the mood to be charmed. ‘I’m sorry, Vi. I was worried and I couldn’t sleep, so I walked down to the jetty to see for myself if there was any chance of getting a boat across there safely. I wouldn’t have done anything stupid, I promise. Why would I? I’ve got you to think of now.’ He smiled again, and this time she thawed a little. ‘Do I get a Christmas kiss?’

‘Yes, but you can dry your own trousers. Now look the other way – I’m getting dressed.’

‘Spoil-sport.’

He did as she asked, burrowing back under the sheets while she hurriedly chose clothes that might make a good impression on his mother. ‘All right, I’m decent now. Your turn.’ While he was dressing, she walked over to the window and drew the curtains back, pleased to see that the weather was greatly improved from the night before, even if the sea still looked threatening. She picked up the binoculars and trained them on the Mount, hoping to see a cheerful plume of smoke rising from Mrs Soper’s chimney, but there was 205nothing, and suddenly she began to share some of Johnny’s anxiety. ‘It’s much brighter now,’ she said cheerfully, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the artificial tone in her voice. ‘Surely those waves will die down soon.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He came to join her, and reluctantly she passed him the binoculars. ‘Oh no,’ he said after a second or two, and the dread in the words was even worse than she had expected. ‘Oh God, Vi, I knew it. Something’s wrong – look at the church tower.’