Read Online A Yacht Called Erewhon by Stuart Vaughan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stuart Vaughan
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time? We’ll leave Aggie hooked up and walk back.’
Matt and I didn’t need any encouragement to down tools and hotfooted it along the path in the direction of food. As we arrived at the riverbank, I casually mentioned we had a guest for dinner.
Matt and Dad looked at each other, and were about to ask who when I stripped off and dived into the water. They followed, and we were soaking away the grime, as well as our aches and pains, when a fourth body pierced the water. Mum had decided to join in the frolic.
‘Dinner’s all ready once you’ve put the steaks on the barbie!’
Mum had brought her beach towel, and she wrapped it around herself as we walked back. I whispered to her that Mic was coming to eat with us. Dad and Matt were still trying to workout who our guest was, and I was keeping them guessing.
Dried off and dressed in clean shorts, we soon had the barbie roaring and five steaks sizzling.
‘So who’s coming?’ Dad asked.
‘Somebody I think you’ll be very interested in meeting.’
Dad knew he wasn’t about to get the answers he wanted, so he turned his attention back to the sizzling meat and picked up a cool can from the rack beside the hotplate. ‘It’s a she then?’ he queried.
‘Yes, dear,’ said Mum, with a twinkle in her eye.
‘Steak’s nearly ready!’
‘Well, bring it over here and meet our guest.’
The three of us swung around to face the table, and there was Mic, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a colourful sarong, with a glass of wine raised to her lips.
The three of us stood motionless.
‘My men aren’t usually this quiet,’ Mum chuckled. ‘You’ll have to excuse them, they’ve had a big day!’
‘Hi, Mic!’ I finally said, when my tongue eventually reconnected to my brain.
‘Hello, Ben.’ She lowered the glass and placed it delicately on the table.
‘Mic, I’d like you to meet my dad, Jim, and my brother, Matt.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you both,’ she replied.
Matt and Dad, still gobsmacked, accepted her hand and mumbled a greeting.
‘Talkative bunch, aren’t they!’ Mum chimed in.
‘Jenny tells me you’re going to try and restore Erewhon. ’
‘There’s no try about it—we have every intention of succeeding!’ replied Dad.
‘Don’t mind him, Mic. Jim may sound a little gruff, but his bark’s worse than his bite. I got the same treatment the firsttime I met him!’ Mum grinned widely.
‘My father was exactly the same. Anyway, anyone who is prepared to rebuild Erewhon is a friend of mine.’
‘Jim, I think it is time for official introductions,’ I said. ‘This is Mic Muriwai, great-granddaughter of Murdoch McAlister.’
Dad’s mouth dropped open. What seemed like a full minute passed as he eyed her up and down.
Matt broke the silence. ‘I thought Mercedes McAlister drowned sixty years ago?’
‘Missing, presumed drowned,’ Mic replied. ‘There’s a lot more to the story that isn’t common knowledge.’ She looked directly at Dad. ‘I am who I say I am.’
Dad still hadn’t said a word and abruptly turned back to shuffle the steaks.
Mic moved over to stand beside him. ‘They smell divine,’ she said.
Dad still didn’t respond and carried on prodding the sizzling meat. ‘I think they’re ready,’ he finally said. He looked down at her. ‘Do you think you could grab the plates off Jen?’
‘Sure.’ Mic handed them one at a time to Dad, who plonked a large juice-laden steak on each. Mum had the salads laid out on the table, and we sat down to eat under the now star-filled summer sky.
To start with, conversation was reserved, but as the meal went on and the wine flowed, Mic took centre stage. Even Matt gradually warmed to what he was hearing and joined in.
Finally, Dad stood up and walked towards the caravan. ‘We’d better get some shut-eye,’ he exclaimed. ‘We have a boat to move, you know.’
Mic thanked us for a great evening, turned down my offer to walk her home, and disappeared down the
Matt and I didn’t need any encouragement to down tools and hotfooted it along the path in the direction of food. As we arrived at the riverbank, I casually mentioned we had a guest for dinner.
Matt and Dad looked at each other, and were about to ask who when I stripped off and dived into the water. They followed, and we were soaking away the grime, as well as our aches and pains, when a fourth body pierced the water. Mum had decided to join in the frolic.
‘Dinner’s all ready once you’ve put the steaks on the barbie!’
Mum had brought her beach towel, and she wrapped it around herself as we walked back. I whispered to her that Mic was coming to eat with us. Dad and Matt were still trying to workout who our guest was, and I was keeping them guessing.
Dried off and dressed in clean shorts, we soon had the barbie roaring and five steaks sizzling.
‘So who’s coming?’ Dad asked.
‘Somebody I think you’ll be very interested in meeting.’
Dad knew he wasn’t about to get the answers he wanted, so he turned his attention back to the sizzling meat and picked up a cool can from the rack beside the hotplate. ‘It’s a she then?’ he queried.
‘Yes, dear,’ said Mum, with a twinkle in her eye.
‘Steak’s nearly ready!’
‘Well, bring it over here and meet our guest.’
The three of us swung around to face the table, and there was Mic, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a colourful sarong, with a glass of wine raised to her lips.
The three of us stood motionless.
‘My men aren’t usually this quiet,’ Mum chuckled. ‘You’ll have to excuse them, they’ve had a big day!’
‘Hi, Mic!’ I finally said, when my tongue eventually reconnected to my brain.
‘Hello, Ben.’ She lowered the glass and placed it delicately on the table.
‘Mic, I’d like you to meet my dad, Jim, and my brother, Matt.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you both,’ she replied.
Matt and Dad, still gobsmacked, accepted her hand and mumbled a greeting.
‘Talkative bunch, aren’t they!’ Mum chimed in.
‘Jenny tells me you’re going to try and restore Erewhon. ’
‘There’s no try about it—we have every intention of succeeding!’ replied Dad.
‘Don’t mind him, Mic. Jim may sound a little gruff, but his bark’s worse than his bite. I got the same treatment the firsttime I met him!’ Mum grinned widely.
‘My father was exactly the same. Anyway, anyone who is prepared to rebuild Erewhon is a friend of mine.’
‘Jim, I think it is time for official introductions,’ I said. ‘This is Mic Muriwai, great-granddaughter of Murdoch McAlister.’
Dad’s mouth dropped open. What seemed like a full minute passed as he eyed her up and down.
Matt broke the silence. ‘I thought Mercedes McAlister drowned sixty years ago?’
‘Missing, presumed drowned,’ Mic replied. ‘There’s a lot more to the story that isn’t common knowledge.’ She looked directly at Dad. ‘I am who I say I am.’
Dad still hadn’t said a word and abruptly turned back to shuffle the steaks.
Mic moved over to stand beside him. ‘They smell divine,’ she said.
Dad still didn’t respond and carried on prodding the sizzling meat. ‘I think they’re ready,’ he finally said. He looked down at her. ‘Do you think you could grab the plates off Jen?’
‘Sure.’ Mic handed them one at a time to Dad, who plonked a large juice-laden steak on each. Mum had the salads laid out on the table, and we sat down to eat under the now star-filled summer sky.
To start with, conversation was reserved, but as the meal went on and the wine flowed, Mic took centre stage. Even Matt gradually warmed to what he was hearing and joined in.
Finally, Dad stood up and walked towards the caravan. ‘We’d better get some shut-eye,’ he exclaimed. ‘We have a boat to move, you know.’
Mic thanked us for a great evening, turned down my offer to walk her home, and disappeared down the
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