be all right with it?â Puzzled, Polly looked at her. âWill did tell you itâs on board one of the tourist boats didnât he? That we cruise up the river for a bit before coming back down to the harbour?â âHe must have conveniently forgotten those little details,â Polly said. She sighed. âI was so looking forward to it too.â Angie looked at her. âYou like Will a lot donât you?â âRight this moment? No. Why didnât he tell me the party was on a boat? He knows I would never have agreed to go if Iâd known.â âThatâs probably why,â Angie said quietly. âHeâs determined to help you get over your phobia. But youâll need to trust him.â Polly looked at her friend. How could she explain that her fear was so deeply ingrained, she doubted she would ever be able to conquer it. Even with Willâs help. It was dark when the girls left the restaurant and began the drive home. The wind had developed into a full-blown gale and shingle and small rocks were being showered across the coastal road as waves broke against the shore. Angie sighed with relief as they reached a road junction where she was able to turn left, and go inland slightly away from the worst of the winds and they finished the journey back to The Captainâs Berth safely. Half an hour later, tucked up in bed trying to concentrate on a book and ignore the sounds of the gale howling outside, Polly gave up and closed her book. Hearing the wind and the rain lashing against the window she hoped that the weather was too bad for anybody to be out on the river causing trouble for the boatyard and Will.
 CHAPTER EIGHT  The force 8 gale was whipping the river up into a frenzy of choppy waves as Will and Ben drove the workboat back down towards its mooring. An emergency call from the Harbour Master asking if they could secure a yacht that had broken its mooring half a mile upstream had sent them upriver an hour ago. Ben carefully drew up alongside the barge moored to the pontoon and Will checked everything there was secure. âYou definitely not staying on the barge tonight?â Ben asked. Will shook his head. âNo. Iâll kip down on here. Right, everything is secure. Letâs get you ashore.â Visibility was poor and the wind-lashed heavy rain poured down the glass windscreen of the wheelhouse as Will slowly made for the workboatâs own mooring nearer the quay. Not a night to be out on the river. Which was precisely why he intended to spend the night on the workboat. If, as he suspected, Jack Pettyjohn planned to cause more trouble tonight under cover of the atrocious weather, he wanted to be ready and waiting for him. Once Ben had gone ashore, Will secured the workboat to its mooring, made himself a flask of coffee, switched the lights off and settled himself in the wheelhouse. It was going to be a long uncomfortable night, that was for sure. Sitting there in the darkness listening to the howling wind and the rain drumming on the wheelhouse roof as the boat was tossed around by the turbulence of the gale, a picture of Polly laughing at Solo and Rosieâs antics on Dartmoor flashed into his mind. He doubted that sheâd be laughing now if she was on board. Sheâd be terrified. Heâd never had a girlfriend whoâd been afraid of boats before â theyâd mostly been like Angie and Lisa, keen sailors themselves. Will sighed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Boats and the river were his life. He really liked Polly but not only did she have this phobia about boats, she lived miles away. When would they ever get to see each other again? Carmarthen might only be a couple of hundred miles or so up the motorway but timewise it might just as well be a thousand. Still, they could probably work something out â meet halfway or something. No. The really big problem was Pollyâs aversion to boats. He