19/01/2024
In the run up to the Book Launch on 4th Feb, Ruth has kindly allowed us to share some snippets from 'The Mermaid' to whet your appetites. If you like what you read, make sure to come and join us at the British Legion 3-5pm.
The drone of the planes’ engines filled Frankie’s ears as she carried the bins to the back of the hotel. The breeze caught her hair, still damp from her morning swim, and chilled the back of her neck. Peering up into the spring sunshine, she wasn’t surprised to see a group of fighters heading out over the coast. As two of the planes gave a slight waggle of their wings, she grinned to herself. Mac and Ken were among them. She waved. There was no way they could see her, but she’d promised to wave them off nonetheless. She tried not to think about what they were flying towards and focused instead on the pleasure of having seen them.
More and more planes filled the sky as the day wore on and once her chores were done, there was little for her to do but wait, anxiously scanning the skies for any sign of the planes returning. Every time a group flew over, she watched for the tell-tale dip of the wing, but it never came.
As she collected the empty glasses in the bar area, a young seaman came racing up to her.
‘Have you seen Mr. Portis?’
Frankie nodded her head towards the corner of the room, where an elderly man sat slumped against the wall, drool collecting in the folds of his chin.
‘No use trying to wake him. He’s been in here all afternoon. What’s the hurry?’
‘There’s a plane gone down somewhere off Clacton. The pilot was reported ejecting but the message has only just come through and it’s getting dark. We need to get the boat out now.’
‘Well, he’s in no fit state to pilot it. Isn’t there anyone else who could do it?’
The seaman shrugged. ‘He’s the pilot. He’s meant to do it. We’re not allowed to touch the boat.’
‘For God’s sake! Wait there.’
Frankie hurried from the room and returned a few moments later wearing one of her father’s thick woollen jumpers.
‘Come on,’ she said, heading for the door. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘You? But you’re a woman!’
‘10 out of 10 for observation, sailor. I’ve also been sailing since I was big enough to reach the wheel. If the Navy aren’t allowed to touch his boat, I will. I’ll deal with him when he sobers up. Do we know who we’re looking for?’
The man frowned. ‘Some Aussie chap, I think they said.’
Frankie stopped abruptly. ‘Alastair MacMillan.’ Her voice sounded hollow above the rushing in her ears.
‘Yeah, that’s right. Know him, do you?’
Frankie shook her head to clear it. ‘He’s a friend.’
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She would find him. She would bring him home. She would not lose him.