Turn of the Tide | ONC 2023

[10] Above and Beyond

    Climbing out of the mud was tougher than Sally expected, and she needed a few attempts to stump up the strength to dislodge herself from the dirt. Once up, she lowered her face to dodge the rain-filled headwind and shuddered at the sight of her own state. Filth spread like a pestilence across the front of her coat and onto her palms, under her nails, and more onto her cheeks than she wanted to know. Her shoes were unrecognisable blocks of mud. No matter what happened now, her mother's rage at her daughter's bedraggled appearance would surely blow Sally to pieces.

    One look up brought Sally a glimpse of a pale yellow glow through the mist, however, and she let the hope it planted warm her frozen body. Eyes fixed on the light, she braced herself for another hard march through the storm. She had reached the farm.

    The twin needs to be heard over the gale and to confirm she had really reached her destination drove Sally to knock harder than she had ever knocked before on the farmhouse door. As her knuckles screamed in pain, the door split open by the slightest fraction to reveal an eyeball. It glanced around before landing on her shape. "Sally?" a voice squeaked just sharply enough for Sally to tell it was Polly Rowe. "What in the blazes are you doing out here?"

    "I need to talk to Martin," Sally cried over the wind, her hair whipping into her face. "It's urgent, I promise!"

    Polly grumbled behind the door, then opened it fully. "You'd best come in, out of this rotten storm," she said, shielding her eyes from the spray that poured through the doorway behind Sally. Slamming the door shut once her guest was inside, Polly turned to face Sally, shrieking as she took in the mess consuming the girl. "The state of you, lass! The state of my carpet! Dig your way here from the Isles, did you?"

    Cold fatigue chattered Sally's teeth together as she studied herself in the farmhouse's light. As well as her coat, mud and water soaked the best part of her jeans and, somehow, her cardigan, and a string of nicks and cuts lined her hands. A soreness on the side of her head warned Sally a large bruise was going to mark her there sooner or later. "Sorry..." she whispered, discovering a patch of mud in her hair.

    "No use being sorry for it now. We have to get you sorted out, before you do yourself more damage." Examining Sally's clogged hair, Polly nudged the girl towards the blue-carpeted stairs. "The bathroom's upstairs, you can clean yourself up in there, first things first."

    "No, wait!" Sally whipped out the note from her coat pocket, all but the tips of its corners spared from the storm's wrath. "I need to give this to your Martin, he needs to get the lifeboats to my dad and Ronan! Please!"

    Polly's eyes widened, and she took the paper out of Sally's hand. "Out on the sea? Blasted idiots! Is there anything but wool in either of their skulls?" With a groan, she flashed the note at Sally and pointed up the stairs again. "I'll see Martin gets this now. You go up there and sort yourself out."

    "I should come with you, I can explain –"

    "Now, lass!" Though her tone was biting, it was concern that lingered in Polly's face. "It might be my husband's farm, but he knows who's boss. If I ask him to do something, he'll do it, and he'll not be bellyaching about it, neither, believe you me!"

    As if the woman had uttered a spell, the adrenaline pumping through Sally's body evaporated. She slumped against the oakwood banister, dragged to earth by the weight of water that swilled in her clothes. "Thank you," she whispered as Polly lunged forward to catch her. "Really."

    Her host shook her head, mumbling under her breath. "You're just like your father, lass," Polly sighed, guiding Sally onto the steps. "You're foolish enough to go out to sea in a storm, and you're stubborn enough to stay on the ship as it sinks and all. Daft and bloody-minded, the pair of you."