Safe Harbour

“I'd like that, Pip. Whenever you like. Say hello to your mother for me.” She nodded, and thanked him, waved, and then like a butterfly she flew off and was gone. And he watched her and Mousse disappear down the beach, as he always did. She was like a rare gift that had happened into his life. A little bird who came and went, her wings fluttering, her huge eyes so full of mysteries. Their conversations touched him and made him smile. He couldn't help wondering, as he thought about her, what her mother was really like. And the father she said was a genius. He sounded difficult, from things she'd said, and a little dark. And the boy sounded unusual too. Not the typical family. And she was certainly no ordinary child. Nor were his. They had been great kids. The last time he'd seen them anyway. It had been a long time. But he didn't let himself dwell on that.

It occurred to him as he walked over the dune to his cottage that he would have liked to take her sailing with him, and even teach her how to sail, as he had his own kids. Vanessa had loved it, Robert hadn't. But out of respect for Pip's mother, Matt knew he wouldn't take her out on the boat. She didn't know him well enough to trust him on the water, and there was always the faint possibility that something could go wrong. He didn't want to risk that.

When Pip got home, she found her mother just walking through the door. As usual, she looked drained, and asked where Pip had been.

“I went to see Matt. He said to say hi. I drew boats today. I couldn't do birds, they were too hard.” She dropped several pages on the kitchen table, and as she glanced at them, Ophélie saw that the drawings were good. She was surprised to find how much Pip had improved. Chad had been something of an artist too, but she tried not to think of that. “I'll cook dinner tonight, if you want,” Pip offered, and for once, Ophélie smiled.

“Let's go out.”

“We don't have to.” Pip knew how tired she was, but she looked a little better tonight.

“It might be fun. How about it? Why don't we go now?” It was a major step for Ophélie, which Pip knew and acknowledged.

“Okay.” Pip looked pleased and surprised. And half an hour later, they were seated at a table for two at the Mermaid Café, one of the two restaurants in town. They both had hamburgers, and chatted amiably. It was the first night out they'd had. And when they got back to the house, they were both happy, full, and tired.

Pip went to bed early that night, and went back to see Matt the next day. Her mother offered no objection when she left, and looked relaxed when Pip got back. As usual, she dropped her drawings on the table. And by the end of the following week, there was a sizable collection of them, most of them pretty good. She was learning a lot from Matt.

It was on a Friday morning, when she had brought him lunch again, that she walked off with Mousse for a few minutes to look for shells, as she sometimes did, and he saw her jump back from the water's edge. He smiled, thinking she had seen a jellyfish or a crab, and he waited to hear Mousse bark. But this time he heard Mousse whine, and saw Pip sitting on the sand, holding her foot.

“Are you okay?” he called out to her, wondering if she'd hear, she was a good distance away. But she shook her head, and he put down his brush and watched her for a minute. She didn't move or stand up. She just sat there and held her foot. And he couldn't see her face. Her head was bent as she looked down at her foot, and the dog continued to whine. Matt walked over to her to see what had happened, and hoped she hadn't stepped on a nail. There were a lot of rusty ones on the beach, loose in the sand or sticking out of pieces of wood that had washed up on shore.

But as soon as he got to her, he saw that it wasn't a nail she'd stepped on, but a jagged piece of glass, and she had an ugly gash on the sole of her foot.

“How did that happen?” he asked as he sat down next to her, there was a considerable amount of blood in the sand, and her foot was still bleeding profusely.

“It was under a piece of seaweed I stepped on,” she said bravely, but he saw instantly that her face was pale.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked solicitously, reaching out gently for her foot.

“Not too much,” she lied.

“I'll bet it does. Let me have a look at it.” He wanted to make sure there was no glass left in it. It looked like a clean slice, but it was a deep gash. And she looked up at him with worried eyes.

“Is it okay?”