Page 17 of It Takes Two to Tumble
The sun had dipped behind the hills and the children were in the nursery, where Ned was reading aloud from a book of adventure stories that would quite possibly inspire tomorrow’s mayhem. Phillip paused silently in the doorway, hesitant to make a noise, lest his presence disrupt the peace of the moment.
Sedgwick hadn’t returned from wherever he went after church. Phillip imagined him surrounded by convivial faces, sipping tea and eating biscuits, sharing tales of the ornery sea captain and the children who barely tolerated their own father. Phillip desperately hoped Walsh turned up soon. It would be a relief to share space with someone who actually liked him rather than grudgingly endured his company. The ship surgeon’s presence would be a welcome reminder that Phillip belonged somewhere, that he was needed and wanted somewhere.
But one by one the children noticed him. Ned gave him the quick nod of one man to another, which Phillip solemnly returned; Peggy cracked a fraction of a smile; and Jamie waved cheerfully. These tiny scraps of acceptance felt more valuable than any prize money Phillip had ever won over the course of the war. He felt almost triumphant when they all returned to listening to the story without rejecting his presence.
Slipping from the doorway, he decided to walk to the lake. The day was still warm despite the approaching dusk, and Phillip shed his coat as soon as he reached one of the graveled paths that led towards the water. As he wended his way further down the path, he heard lapping water, a sound that might have been comfortingly similar to the sea, if not for the accompanying calls of birds he ought to be able to identify but never would.
At some point he became aware of a sound that didn’t quite belong—a sort of exaggerated rustling. It could have been a cat in one of the trees lining the lakeshore, but only if it were a very large cat indeed. Then he heard what sounded like a muffled oath, and he stopped walking.
There, balanced on a branch that reached over the water, was the vicar. He had a knife between his teeth as he tugged on a rope looped over a higher branch, testing to see whether it would support his weight. Even from the ground Phillip could tell that the knot was a poor one.
“That won’t do,” Phillip called.
The vicar startled, dropped his knife, and nearly lost his footing. “Oh, terribly sorry about that,” Sedgwick said, recovering his balance by gripping the trunk. “You probably weren’t expecting to get stabbed.”
“Not by you, at least,” Phillip said, bending to retrieve the knife. He reached up and passed it to the vicar. “I can’t say I’d be surprised to get knifed by Jamie.”
“Not Jamie. Possibly Peg, but even she seems to have declared an armistice. I keep telling you, they’re cheerful little souls as long as nobody makes them study.”
He had obviously been right about this, so Phillip didn’t argue. “What are you doing up there?”
“The children have been jumping from a branch into the lake, which, while daring, isn’t as safe as I might like. I thought I’d tie a rope for them to jump from, to take them out a bit further from the lakeshore, where the water is deeper and clearer of weeds.”
Phillip bit back the urge to say that the safest and most appropriate solution was for the children not to jump into the lake at all. But that wasn’t an option, it seemed. And Phillip dimly remembered having jumped his own fair share of times into this very lake, although that seemed so distant in the past as to have happened to a different person. Had he actually enjoyed jumping into the lake? He must have, but that kind of joy seemed so remote, so inaccessible to his present-day self that he couldn’t quite believe it. He regarded the branch. It appeared sturdy and strong. “Then what you want is a bowline knot.” The vicar’s knot was a slapdash affair. This was the first time in a week that Phillip had felt even slightly competent. “Here, let me up.” He tossed his coat onto the grass at the base of the tree and swung himself up onto the lowest branch.
“You don’t need to—” the vicar started to protest.
“It’s the least—oh, damn.” Phillip lost his footing, but Sedgwick caught his hand and steadied him.
Now they were face-to-face at the trunk of the tree, sharing the same branch, rather closer than Phillip had counted on when he had thought to clamber up. “A bowline knot,” Phillip said, because he had to say something, and knots were as safe a topic as any, “is the most secure way of making a loop at the end of a rope, and it’s easy to untie even after it’s carried a load, in case the children want to move it.”
“Show me how,” Sedgwick said, and if there were any words in the English language guaranteed to buy an old sailor’s patience, asking how to make a knot might just do the trick.
Phillip demonstrated. “See, over and under. Right over left.” It was getting darker, and he doubted Sedgwick could properly see his fingers or the rope, but he seemed to be paying attention. “The only problem with this sort of knot is that it sometimes works itself loose when it isn’t bearing a load, but it’ll be fine if you check it before every use. Even the children could, if you showed them.”
“Or you could show them,” Sedgwick said. “They might like your company out here. They use the boathouse as a secret lair. Peggy’s been pestering me about rowing across the lake, but I told her I wasn’t fool enough to have them row me to the center of the lake only to throw the oars in and leave us all stranded.”
“But maybe I would be?” he asked, smiling despite himself.
“Well, you’re the nautical chap. I’ll sit in the shade, saying a prayer to—oh, rats, who’s the fellow who looks after mariners?” He bit his lip in a way Phillip found far too interesting. “St. Elmo!”
Phillip raised his eyebrows. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the inside of a church, but I feel certain that’s not how we’re supposed to do things in England.”
A smile played on the vicar’s lips. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said confidingly.
“Your secrets are safe with me,” Phillip responded, only realizing after he had spoken that the words had come out more seriously than he had intended. Secrets, indeed.
“You can go first,” Sedgwick said.
“Pardon?”
“To try the rope.”
Absolutely not. “The water will be freezing.”
“And...?” Sedgwick was already untying his cravat, a giddy light in his eyes.
“And I don’t fancy a cold plunge.”
