Read Online Turning the Tide by Christine Stovell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Stovell
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tickling Kirstie’s ears. He looked at Kirstie who looked back, innocently. ‘Oh!’ he said, looking shocked. ‘Who’s the daddy?’
But when Harry arrived back at the yard, she soon stopped smiling. George had dragged a couple of old deckchairs from his shed, and he and Matthew were sitting in the sun drinking tea, like an old married couple in front of a beach hut watching the world go by.
‘Come and join us,’ Matthew invited, waving a biscuit from George’s tin which was perched on a box between them. Judging from its depleted condition, he’d enjoyed unrestricted access.
‘You may have plans to turn this place into a holiday camp, Matthew, but unfortunately for you I’m still in charge here,’ Harry said, folding her arms.
Matthew and George looked up at her resentfully, like two small boys who had just had the remote control snatched away during the big match. Neither of them seemed keen to get on with what they were supposed to be doing. George made a show of mutiny by raising his mug and taking a conspicuously leisurely sip.
‘If you’ve finished the pontoons, George, I’d be grateful if you could clean the shelves in the stores. Some of those tins are so dusty I’m in danger of painting more dirt on than I’ve taken off.’ She ignored the huffing and puffing, the ponderous wiping of his lips and the exaggerated effort it took to get off his backside. She was just thinking what a good job she’d made of exerting her authority, when George turned to her.
‘Message from Ted Butler.’
‘Yes?’ Harry said, waiting to hear that Ted, one of her long-term owners, had discovered his wallet at last.
‘’E’s packing up. Says ’e can’t afford it no more. Wants the boat out the water as soon as yer like, so he can put it on the market.’
Bum! Ted might not have been one of her most prompt payers, but he was one of her regulars. Harry watched George shuffle off and wished he’d waited until Matthew was out of the way before dropping that particular titbit into the conversation.
‘And don’t ’old yer breath, but there’s a couple of fools looking over Lapwing ,’ he added as he sloped off.
Lapwing was, or at least had been, beautiful. Her elderly owner, Ian, had been too busy caring for his sick wife to spare much time for the boat; and, since Lapwing was on the point of needing major remedial work, Ian had reluctantly decided to let her go. Harry only hoped that the couple being shown over the boat by Ian’s son, David, hadn’t heard George’s parting shot.
‘Give the poor old sod a break,’ said Matthew, as if he’d been reading her thoughts. ‘He works hard enough for you. He was telling me how he was torpedoed twice in the war – he’s lucky to be alive.’
Very lucky, Harry privately agreed – and, depending on what other tales he’d been spinning, even luckier if he managed to survive another day. ‘Oh, George has plenty of stories, he’ll talk all day if you let him – and he gets a decent salary for the privilege.’ Because Matthew was still seated in the deckchair Harry, for once, had a height advantage. She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Something you wanted?’
Matthew looked up at her and she couldn’t help noticing that his hazel eyes were flecked with green in the light.
‘What’s going to happen to George if you keep losing your regular customers? He’s never going to get another job at his age, is he?’
Matthew also, she remembered, had a wonderful habit of reminding her where his real interest lay. Just in case she got too comfortable. ‘Oh dear! Is there no place for George in your plans? No niche job to keep him occupied? I know – perhaps you can set him up in one of your luxury apartments, I’m sure the other residents will love him!’
She leaned over him to press the point home. ‘Nice try, Matthew, but this is my business and George is my employee, so I’d be very grateful if you would just butt out and let me get on with
But when Harry arrived back at the yard, she soon stopped smiling. George had dragged a couple of old deckchairs from his shed, and he and Matthew were sitting in the sun drinking tea, like an old married couple in front of a beach hut watching the world go by.
‘Come and join us,’ Matthew invited, waving a biscuit from George’s tin which was perched on a box between them. Judging from its depleted condition, he’d enjoyed unrestricted access.
‘You may have plans to turn this place into a holiday camp, Matthew, but unfortunately for you I’m still in charge here,’ Harry said, folding her arms.
Matthew and George looked up at her resentfully, like two small boys who had just had the remote control snatched away during the big match. Neither of them seemed keen to get on with what they were supposed to be doing. George made a show of mutiny by raising his mug and taking a conspicuously leisurely sip.
‘If you’ve finished the pontoons, George, I’d be grateful if you could clean the shelves in the stores. Some of those tins are so dusty I’m in danger of painting more dirt on than I’ve taken off.’ She ignored the huffing and puffing, the ponderous wiping of his lips and the exaggerated effort it took to get off his backside. She was just thinking what a good job she’d made of exerting her authority, when George turned to her.
‘Message from Ted Butler.’
‘Yes?’ Harry said, waiting to hear that Ted, one of her long-term owners, had discovered his wallet at last.
‘’E’s packing up. Says ’e can’t afford it no more. Wants the boat out the water as soon as yer like, so he can put it on the market.’
Bum! Ted might not have been one of her most prompt payers, but he was one of her regulars. Harry watched George shuffle off and wished he’d waited until Matthew was out of the way before dropping that particular titbit into the conversation.
‘And don’t ’old yer breath, but there’s a couple of fools looking over Lapwing ,’ he added as he sloped off.
Lapwing was, or at least had been, beautiful. Her elderly owner, Ian, had been too busy caring for his sick wife to spare much time for the boat; and, since Lapwing was on the point of needing major remedial work, Ian had reluctantly decided to let her go. Harry only hoped that the couple being shown over the boat by Ian’s son, David, hadn’t heard George’s parting shot.
‘Give the poor old sod a break,’ said Matthew, as if he’d been reading her thoughts. ‘He works hard enough for you. He was telling me how he was torpedoed twice in the war – he’s lucky to be alive.’
Very lucky, Harry privately agreed – and, depending on what other tales he’d been spinning, even luckier if he managed to survive another day. ‘Oh, George has plenty of stories, he’ll talk all day if you let him – and he gets a decent salary for the privilege.’ Because Matthew was still seated in the deckchair Harry, for once, had a height advantage. She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Something you wanted?’
Matthew looked up at her and she couldn’t help noticing that his hazel eyes were flecked with green in the light.
‘What’s going to happen to George if you keep losing your regular customers? He’s never going to get another job at his age, is he?’
Matthew also, she remembered, had a wonderful habit of reminding her where his real interest lay. Just in case she got too comfortable. ‘Oh dear! Is there no place for George in your plans? No niche job to keep him occupied? I know – perhaps you can set him up in one of your luxury apartments, I’m sure the other residents will love him!’
She leaned over him to press the point home. ‘Nice try, Matthew, but this is my business and George is my employee, so I’d be very grateful if you would just butt out and let me get on with
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