“She was fast enough,” Paxo said shortly. It was a testament to his dislike of Tess, I reckoned, that he’d felt inclined to jump to my defence.
The ferry was out of the lee of the land now and pushing up towards its maximum cruising velocity as it struck out across Morecambe Bay. At that kind of speed the gentle swell had lumps in it like concrete sleeping policemen. As soon as we got into open water it had also begun a perceptible cindering motion, a slight corkscrewing, that always seems to come with a following sea.
I noticed Jamie was gripping the edge of the table like it was a designated flotation device. He had a sheen of sweat across his pale skin and when one of the cabin crew approached to ask if we’d like anything to eat, he actually took on a greenish cast.
“I’m just going outside for a bit of fresh air,” he managed, lurching to his feet.
“Remember to throw up on the downwind side, mate,” Paxo suggested helpfully.
“We’re doing forty knots,” William pointed out. “It’s all down wind.”
Jamie just gave them a panicked look and fled. Tess took his vacant seat, seeming pleased with herself. I wondered if I was going to be able to stand a whole weekend of her like this.
“So where are we going when we get in to Belfast?” I asked Daz.
“Nice little hotel I found up on the Antrim coast,” he said, prompt but almost deliberately vague. “Then tomorrow morning you have to suffer some culture by looking at the Giant’s Causeway. Your reward is a trip round the distillery at Bushmills afterwards.”
“I’ll try to contain my boredom,” I said.
The others slipped into a discussion on the merits of Irish whiskey versus Scottish single malt but I let it flow over me. Through the tinted windows I could see Jamie standing at the railing, hunched over like a man who knows his digestive system is about to suffer a violent inversion and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Most of the other people on the outside deck correctly identified the signs and steered well clear of him, but one guy strolled over to stand alongside him. He was dressed in plain black bike leathers, with a cotton scarf round his neck to keep the draught and the bugs out. Jamie glanced up sharply, recognised the figure and seemed to relax a little. The newcomer turned sideways to speak to him and then, with a jolt, I recognised him, too.
“Excuse me a minute,” I muttered, getting to my feet. “I’m just going to check on Jamie.”
Paxo groaned. “Not you as well,” he said, leaning back in his chair to call after me. “Well don’t come back in here if you smell of sick.”
The other occupants of the lounge stared fixedly at their newspapers and their laptops and tried to ignore him.
Outside, the wind whipped through my shirt and made me wish I’d put my jacket back on, despite the gorgeous weather. Jamie was still clinging miserably to the railing and there, alongside him, was Sean.
Sean turned to meet me as I approached. He smiled, and I wanted to run and throw myself into his arms. Aware of the audience from inside the lounge – not to mention Jamie – I contented myself with an answering smile.
“Surprise, surprise,” I said with admirable cool. I nodded to the leathers. “I didn’t know you still had a bike.”
“I don’t, but one of the guys who works for me does and as a) he’s out of the country at the moment, and b) I’m his boss,” he said, counting the points off on his fingers, “he’s generously agreed to lend me his Super Blackbird for the weekend.”
“Wow,” I said. “He must really like his job.”
Sean grinned. “Yeah, he does.”
Jamie chose that moment to start to heave and Sean and I both instinctively stepped back. “Unless you really want to watch the kid trying to turn his stomach inside out, I would suggest we take a walk,” Sean murmured. “Where are the others?”
“First Class lounge,” I said nodding to the windows as we moved round the corner, more towards the side of the boat. “William wangled it or I’d invite you in.”
“Madeleine sorted my ticket,” Sean said, smiling. “I’m already in.”
I waited a beat. “What are you doing here, Sean?”
“Watching your back,” he said. His eyes flipped down to my thin shirt. “Although, in this breeze, your front looks pretty good, too.”
I folded my arms across my chest, defensive. “Be serious.”
His face sobered. “I am being serious – about your back, I mean,” he said quietly.
He glanced across but Jamie was out of sight and undoubtedly too preoccupied to be even thinking about listening in. And besides, the wind was whipping our words away over the stern as soon as they were spoken.
“We think we might have made some headway but that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Sean said. “Madeleine’s being doing some searches on our friend Eamonn and it turns out he moves in some very nasty circles.”
Eamonn’s words when he’d first laid eyes on Sean came back to me in a cold rush. Now that wouldn’t be a bastard squaddie I can smell, would it? Seen plenty of your type . . .
“He’s connected to the IRA?” I said, tense.
Sean ducked his head in a ‘maybe, maybe not’ gesture. “More likely the other side of the sectarian divide,” he said. “Our intelligence suggests good old Eamonn Garroway is just an old-fashioned thug, but you can’t operate in Northern Ireland without the knowledge and tacit approval of the paramilitaries – regardless of your politics. The bad news is, he’s heavily into the drugs trade.”
“Shit,” I murmured, my eyes straying to Jamie again. “We were afraid of something like that.”
“Quite,” Sean said, letting his voice drawl. “You see now why I thought you might be glad of some back-up on this one?”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a wry smile. “But I’m glad to see you anyway, Sean – not just for that reason.”
He raised an eyebrow, momentarily lost for words, then he laughed softly, shaken. “Well, that’s progress, I think,” he said.
Impulsively, I moved in closer so I could take some shelter from his body. He only hesitated a fraction then put his arm round my shoulders and pulled me in closer still. I tilted my head against his chest and we stood like that for a long time without the need to say anything further, watching the foaming white line of wake stretching out behind us from the ferry’s twin hulls.
I could feel the heat of him seeping into my bones but it wasn’t just a physical warmth. It felt good just to be near him, whatever my father’s doom-ridden predictions.
Nevertheless, the memory of those words chilled me. I broke away, turned to face Sean a little. I’d forgotten how good he looked in leathers, dark and dangerous, with the wind tousling his hair. I swallowed, forced myself to concentrate.
“Did Madeleine manage to dig out anything on Isobel?” I asked, peering round the corner of the superstructure to check on Jamie. He was still where we’d left him, slumped onto the rail now, eyes shut, but at least he had more colour. Being his bodyguard, I reasoned, just meant ensuring he didn’t fall over the side. It didn’t mean I had to go and mop up after him.