The Boy is Back in Town. Nina Harrington

in times of crisis when the whole world fell apart.

      Mari shrugged off a shiver of sad memories, turned the corner and started down the narrow cobbled street towards the harbour, and was rewarded by the sight she never grew tired of—Swanhaven bay stretched out in front of her.

      The sea was a wide expanse of dove-grey, flecked by bright white foam as the waves picked up in the icy wind. A bright smile warmed Mari’s face despite the cold. Swanhaven harbour had been built of granite blocks designed to protect the fishing fleet from the harsh English Channel. Now the long wide arms held more pleasure craft than local fishermen, but it was still a safe harbour and delightful marina which attracted visitors all year round, even on a cold February afternoon.

      But that was not where she wanted to go before the early winter darkness fell. There was somewhere very special she wanted to visit now she was free for the rest of the day. The one place that meant more to her and Rosa than anywhere else in the world. She could hardly wait to see her old home again. Snow or no snow. Nothing was going to stop her now. Nothing at all.

      ‘Well, you know what your father’s like. Once he gets an idea in his head, nothing is going to stop him.’ His mother chuckled down Ethan Chandler’s cellphone, her voice faint and in snatches as it was carried away in the blustery wind. ‘He’s out by the pool at the moment and quite determined to experiment with all of the fancy extras on his new barbecue, even if we are in the middle of a mini heatwave. Which reminds me. How is the weather in Swanhaven at the moment?’

      Ethan Chandler took a firm grip with his other hand on the tiller of the small sailing boat he had hired from the Swanhaven sailing school and let the fresh wind carry the light boat out from his private jetty into deeper water before answering. A spray of icy sea water crashed over the side of the boat and he moved the phone closer towards his mouth and under the shelter of his jacket.

      ‘You’ll be delighted to know that at the moment it is grey, wet and windy. And cold. Cold by Florida standards at least. You’re going to freeze next week.’

      Her reply was a small sigh. ‘I did wonder. I remember only too well what February can be like. But don’t you worry. Your father and I wouldn’t miss seeing our new holiday home for anything. We are so proud of you, Ethan.’

      Ethan inhaled a slow calming breath. Proud? Proud was the last thing his parents should be.

       Far from it.

      Apart from a couple of one-to-one sailing classes he had run as a personal favour to his old mentor at the Swanhaven Yacht Club, he had made it his business to keep out of sight and hide away at the house. The work that needed to be done was an excellent excuse for not socialising in the town but, the truth was, in a small town like Swanhaven, people had long memories. Ten years was nothing, and Kit Chance still had a lot of family in the area and the weight of the accident which killed Kit had become heavier and heavier the longer he stayed here.

      Proud? No. The minute his parents were settled, he would be on the first flight back to Florida.

      Luckily his mother did not give him a chance to reply. ‘And how are you managing at the house on your own?’

      Ethan turned his head back towards the shore and enjoyed a half smile at the sight of the stunning one-storey home which hugged the wooded hillside on one side and the wide curve of the inlet on the other. Now that was something he could be proud of.

      It was a superb location. Quiet, private and secluded but only ten minutes drive to Swanhaven, which lay around the headland in the next bay, and even faster by boat. Perfect.

      ‘Everything’s fine. I’m just heading out now to Swanhaven to pick up some groceries. But don’t worry, Mum. The team have done a great job and it will all be ready for next weekend.’ I hope.

      ‘That’s wonderful, darling. You’ve been so secretive these past few months; I can hardly wait to see what you’ve done with the place. And don’t you worry about your father. I know he was reluctant at first to let you manage the project, but you know how hard it is for him to hand over control of anything to anybody. He’s so pleased that you agreed to finish off the work for us. We both are. Who knows? With a bit of luck your father might actually start slowing down and think about retirement one day soon.’

      Ethan fought down a positive reply but the words stuck in his throat.

      It had taken a few years before his parents understood that their only son had no interest in becoming the fourth generation architect in Chandler and Chandler, Architects. Ethan had no intention of spending his life in an air-conditioned office looking out on the ocean when he could be on the waves himself, pushing himself harder and harder. He felt sorry to let them down but they eventually accepted the fact that he had his own life to lead and they had supported him as best they could.

      The least he could do was come over to Swanhaven and finish off their retirement home for them. It was ironic that his mother had chosen to come back to Swanhaven of all places, but she had grown up in the area and they had some happy memories of the summers they spent here before the accident which changed all of their lives. His most of all.

      They had talked about Swanhaven many times and he knew that, although his mother loved this bay, they had chosen not to come back here because of the accident and how he felt about it.

      But now they were ready to move on and this house was a symbol of that.

      And if they could cope with having a holiday home here, then he would have to learn to live with that. It was the moving part that he had a problem with. But that was his problem, not theirs, and there was no way he was going to spoil his mother’s delight in her new house.

      ‘Good luck with that one, Mum. If anyone can do it, you can.’

      ‘Well, thank you for that vote of confidence. Oh, I’m now being called to ogle some gizmo or gadget. Keep safe, darling. And see you next Saturday. Keep safe.’

      Keep safe. That was what she used to say at the dockside before he set out on a dangerous sea journey. They were always her final words. Only a year ago they had been squeezed out through tears when he left for the Green Globe round-the-world race. Now he could hear warmth and an almost casual tone in her voice through the broken reception.

      So much had changed. Now she was saying it before a short shopping trip across the bay to Swanhaven, not months spent alone battling the most treacherous oceans in the world where a simple mistake could cost him the boat or his life. Or both. Where he could be out of contact with the world for hours. Perhaps days.

      Now she could call him from the kitchen of their lovely Florida home and know precisely where he would be for at least six months of the year. Safe and out of harm’s way. Running sailing courses at the international yacht club where troubled teenagers from all over the state could receive the help they needed to rebuild their lives.

      And she was happier than he had seen her for a long time.

      How could she understand that he had chosen to abandon his comfortable car in Swanhaven and come out in wild wet weather in a boat which was smaller than the one he used to have as a boy, just to feel the wind and the spray? To sense the reaction of the rudder under his hand as the tiny sail stretched out to the fullest it had probably ever seen as he angled the craft into the wind at just the perfect inclination to squeeze every drop of speed.

      He knew this stretch of water like the back of his own hand. Kit had shown him where the currents lay over shallow water and the best place to turn into the wind so that they could practice how to use the sails.

      Ethan smiled to himself and shifted the tiller just a little more. Just seeing this part of the bay again on his first day had brought back so many fine memories, and some sad ones. Those summers spent sailing every day with Kit Chance had been some of the happiest times of his life. And he still missed him.

      Over the past year or two his mother had dropped not so subtle questions about when he planned to stop pushing himself harder and harder with each yacht race. He had always laughed it off. But she