She set off downhill, eventually finding a steep flight of mossy steps between two houses. Young Beatrice must have walked down here, too. The passage emerged above the quay, and across the little harbour, she saw the man she’d seen in the hotel bar last night standing on Early Bird, getting her ready for sea. He straightened and looked right over at her, and waved. She walked across, her hair streaming in the wind.
‘Hello, again,’ he called up to her, as she drew near. He had a clear, low voice with a slight lilt.
‘Hi, I love your boat.’
‘She isn’t mine, but thank you.’ He was threading a rope through an eyelet in a sail. ‘I thought I’d get out while the tide was right,’ he said. He secured the rope and stepped up onto the quay to meet her. ‘I’m Anthony,’ he said as he shook her hand with a firm grip. ‘We keep nearly meeting, don’t we? Do you live here?’
‘I’m Lucy. No, I’m staying for a few days. Are you at the Mermaid, too?’
‘I was just eating there. They do good comfort food.’ He studied her for a moment then said, ‘This might sound a bit forward, but would you like to come out in the boat with me?’
‘Me? Now?’
‘Why not? I’ve got some spare kit.’
‘Oh, I don’t sail. You wouldn’t want a novice, would you?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘You can swim, can’t you?’
‘Yes, though I hope I wouldn’t need to. Really, though?’ The idea was growing on her.
He looked her up and down, as though gauging her size, then stepped down into the boat and opened a locker. He brought out a pile of oilskin tops and trousers. She looked at them in dismay and said, ‘Will I need all those?’
‘It’s very blustery out there.’
‘I won’t fall in,’ she replied.
‘Fine,’ he said in a mild tone, but his expression was set, ‘though take it from me, you’ll be glad of them in this wind. You can use the cabin to change in.’
‘I’ll change at the hotel,’ she said, just to be stubborn.
‘As you like.’ His eyes were merry now.
She took the armful of clothing and walked away, aware that he was amused by her. Quite why she was doing this, she didn’t know. Her wretched impulsive nature again. Her mother had warned her about not getting in strangers’ cars, but did boats count, too?
She was ready in ten minutes and returned to Anthony feeling self-conscious. ‘I look like a penguin,’ she told him, splaying her feet, and he laughed. Her sleeves were too long and she had to roll up the legs of the trousers above her canvas shoes. He couldn’t resist a grin, but seeing this made her chin go up.
‘Here, you’ll need this,’ he said, as he passed her a buoyancy aid. It looked like a padded waistcoat.
‘Is this right?’ she said, pulling it on.
‘Zip it up and the belt goes . . .’ he said, standing close to make an adjustment, ‘like this.’
Everything went wrong from the moment she stepped into the vessel. ‘Sit down, no, over here, you’re rocking the boat,’ he commanded. She moved, wobbled and clutched at a wooden pole, which swung free, nearly knocking her over. ‘Ouch,’ she cried.
‘Are you all right? Now, mind the boom or it’ll get you again.’
He gave her a rope that was tied to the sail and she sat down. ‘The boom,’ she repeated. There was a whole new language here. He started up the engine and they motored out between the arms of the harbour in a cloud of fumes. A cold wind struck immediately and Lucy gasped. They set off for the centre of the bay.
‘Right,’ Anthony cried. ‘If you take the tiller, I’ll get the sails up.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said.
‘Just hold this. If you want to go right move it this way – left, that way. Straight to go straight. Keep her into the wind. You’ll pick it up easy.’
They swapped places. She pulled and pushed the tiller arm and the wind blew them in little circles. ‘Hold it still, will you?’ he said.
‘I can’t,’ she replied.
‘Try, or we’ll end up in the drink.’
Eventually she got the hang of it and Anthony got the sails up and turned off the motor. He thrust the end of a rope at her and said, ‘Right, grab this and change places. Now.’ They did a stupid dance, trying to pass one another.
‘Don’t let the boom go,’ he shouted and she pulled on the rope, panicking as the strength of the wind filled the sails. The boat whipped along, the rope sawing at the skin on her fingers. ‘There’s some gloves in that locker,’ he said, but she couldn’t move to get them and now the boat was tearing towards rocks.