Polly struggled to stop shaking and prayed Will wouldn’t notice as she stood on the slipway looking down at the large rubber dinghy he was urging her to step into.
“What’s the matter?”
“I thought you’d agreed to bring the papers to the office this afternoon?” Polly said.
“This way you get to see the barge as well. Come on, get in. I haven’t got all day. It’s quite safe,” Will said, holding out his hand. “It wobbles a bit as you step in but that’s all.”
“I’ll take your word for it but I’m not getting in it.” And Polly moved several feet back from the edge of the slipway.
Ten minutes ago she’d been sitting by the inner harbour enjoying the ice cream she’d promised herself and enjoying the view. Looking out along the headland with its villas and thatched cottages dotted along its length, the medieval castle at the mouth of the estuary, Polly wished she had her camera with her. With several dinghies sailing in the river and that as background it would have made a perfect picture.
But then Will had found her and insisted there was time before lunch for her to inspect the barge and collect his file of plans for the business. And refused to take no for answer. Only now he’d have to. There was no way she was getting into that bouncing rubber object.
“You have a problem?” Will demanded, eyes narrowed, watching her. “Only I don’t have all day to stand here.”
Polly took a deep breath. “I don’t do small boats. In fact I don’t do boats full stop,” she said. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to insist you bring the papers to the office.”
“I can’t believe this,” Will said. “You’re working for a nautical company but you ‘don’t do’ boats.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How the hell can you evaluate our business if boats are alien to you?”
“I don’t need to like boats to do a business plan,” Polly protested. “And I do know how to read accounts and analyse things. Besides Worldsend is only one of my clients and they promised me I could stay on terra firma if I agreed to take on this job.”
Will’s cold stare made her flinch. She felt an unexpected need to be honest with him. Try and make him understand.
“Will, I’m truly sorry,” Polly’s voice trailed away. “But I’m absolutely terrified of boats and the water,” she added. “If I could get in that boat I would — but I can’t.”
“Is there any reason why you’re so petrified?” Will asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Or is it just an irrational phobia?”
“I fell out of a rowing boat once when we were on holiday. I couldn’t swim and I thought I was going to drown. Haven’t been in a boat since.” She looked at him dejectedly, hoping that he wasn’t about to make fun of her. “I did learn to swim though — my dad insisted after the accident,” she added. “Took me a lot of Saturday mornings at the local swimming baths before I managed it. But I don’t like it. I’d rather look at the water than be in it or on it.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“You don’t think it’s time you faced up to your fear?”
“I know I should,” Polly said, shaking her head. “But not today. Sorry.”
Will sighed. “OK. Go and wait for me in the Sail Loft Cafe on the quay. I’ll fetch the papers from the barge and we’ll look at them together over lunch. Back in ten minutes.”
Polly stood and watched as Will expertly manoeuvred the dinghy away from the slipway out into the river before she turned and made for the cafe. Perhaps now he knew how she felt about boats he’d stop badgering her about getting in one to go across to the barge. She could only hope.
The cafe, popular with locals as well as holidaymakers and yachties, was reasonably busy but Polly managed to stake a claim on a vacant window table. She slipped into the high-backed wooden settle seat that offered some privacy from the other diners.
When the waitress brought her the menu she asked for some water and said, “I’ll order when my friend arrives.” Who’d have thought she’d be sitting here waiting to have lunch with Will? Hopefully his stressed-out, blunt rude side wouldn’t be in evidence for the next hour. When he was being nice he was very nice — and incredibly sexy with it.
Sipping her water, Polly became aware that there was an an angry low-pitched confrontation going on between two men in the settle behind her. Her own settle rocked as the two men stood up and, still arguing, prepared to leave. She recognised that voice. Quickly she picked up the menu and pretended to read it, sinking down in her seat trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as the two men walked past.
“Well, I’m not paying you for your last effort. That was my yacht that got damaged. Mess up again like that next time, mate, and I warn you, not only are you off the payroll but I’ll make you suffer.”
Slowly Polly lowered the menu and watched as Jack Pettyjohn and his companion left the cafe. Mentally she made a note of the other man, hoping Will would be able to recognise him from her description.
Will arrived five minutes later clutching a large folder which he carefully placed on the table. He glanced at her.
“You all right? You look a bit pale.”
Polly told him what she’d overheard. “The other guy was quite tall, black jeans, black sweatshirt, dark blue waterproof jacket — oh and he walked with a limp.”
“Black Sam,” Will said instantly. “He started working for Pettyjohn about six months ago.” He clenched his fish. “I knew Jack was behind last night’s debacle. And the rest of the stuff.” The salt and pepper pots rattled as his fist banged the table.
“Sounds as though he’s planning something else. Can you go to the police?”
“What with? Still haven’t got any hard evidence. No. Dad and I will just have to rely on staying vigilant and phone the police if something kicks off. You didn’t hear anything else did you?”
Polly shook her head. “No, sorry. Told you everything. Can I do anything to help?”
“Thanks but no thanks. The Robertsons fight their own battles.” Will opened the folder and pulled out a bundle of papers, dislodging a black and white photo as he did so.
“Dad at the helm of the Mary-Jane,” Will said as Polly picked up the photo. “I’m trying to trace her. I know Dad would love to know what’s happened to her since his uncle sailed away and disappeared.”
“Lillian said something about it going to the States in the fifties, but I didn’t realise a family member had taken it,” Polly said.
Looking at a young Ben in the photo was like looking at the man sat opposite her. What was that they said about daughters turning into their mothers? If it was the same with boys and their fathers then Will would still be a good looking hunk when he was Ben’s age. Not that she would know him then of course. She held the photo out to him.
“Along with a sizeable amount of the firm’s money,” Will said, replacing it in the folder. “It’s all ancient history now but I know Dad would love to know about the Mary-Jane — even if he couldn’t care less about his long-lost relative.”
“What have you discovered so far?”
“Nothing,” Will said. “To be honest I’ve been too busy, but once the barge is up and running and a few other things are sorted, I’ll spend some time on the internet and see what I can unearth. Right, let’s look at my ideas for the yard.”
Polly could tell from the plans and the detailed budget analysis Will had drawn up that he had a good grasp of what was needed for the business to grow. His enthusiasm for the projects he visualised putting into effect was infectious and she found herself relaxing in his company for the first time.
Will pushed the papers back into the folders when their lunch — mussels and frites — arrived. “Can you leave those with me for bit?” Polly said. “Need to take a closer look at them for Worldsend.”
“Sure,” Will replied easily. “Just don’t let them out of your sight — they’re the only copies I have.”
“I promise. Oh Will, I do hope it all works out for you,” Polly said impulsively.
“An injection of cash from Worldsend Enterprises will certainly help — provided of course they don’t try and take over — but with or without them, I’m determined to make it work,” Will said quietly. “And I’ll do whatever it takes. The yard, the boats — it’s my life,” he added. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. Or anywhere else I’d rather live.”
Thoughtfully Polly picked a mussel out of its shell. She was beginning to get the message that any woman in Will Robertson’s life would have to be equally enamoured of boats. Shame she hated boats so much.
Saturday morning and after checking mails and answering a few queries from another potential client, Polly closed her laptop. It was the weekend and she intended to relax.
Angie had already suggested they had some retail therapy time together, followed by coffee and cakes in an award-winning local cafe.
“I can’t be away from The Captain’s Berth too long,” Angie said. “In case I miss out on any possible customers. Most people arrive down here in the afternoon looking for somewhere to stay so I’ll need to be back by one o’clock.”
With Angie’s encouragement Polly treated herself to a floaty summer dress from the sale rail in one of the town’s many boutiques.
“That colour really suits you,” Angie said. “You’re lucky you can wear yellow — it’s such a cheerful colour. It just makes me look washed out.”
“It’s too pretty to resist,” Polly said, pirouetting in front of a mirror. “And it is a bargain. Besides, it’ll remind me of you and down here when I’m back home.”
Later, as they sat on the small terrace of the cafe down by the park, Angie said casually, “This phobia of yours with boats and water and not going out on the river.”
“I guess Will’s been talking to you,” Polly said. “About me not going across to the barge. He was really nice about it.” She waited as the waitress placed their order of coffees and slices of millionaire’s shortbread in front of them.
“At least he didn’t ridicule me like some people have in the past. Thank goodness Worldsend promised I didn’t have to go on any boats — definitely wouldn’t have taken the job otherwise. Never understood the attraction boats have for people.”
“I know I’m biased, him being my cousin,” Angie said. “But Will’s a good bloke. Have to warn you though — he probably has plans to help you overcome your fear. He’ll have added getting you in a boat to his mission in life list — along with saving the boatyard of course.”
Polly smiled. “Never been a mission in anyone’s life before,” she said. “But I’m not here for long and my fear goes back years, so I think he’ll have his work cut out.”
“He’ll give it his best shot,” Angie said. “Will’s one determined man when he sets his mind on something.”
Thoughtfully Polly finished her coffee. There was no way she was going to set foot in any boat — however determined Will Robertson might be on her behalf.
“Are you into boats?” she asked.
Angie nodded. “Growing up down here it would be difficult not to be. Used to crew for Will on deliveries too — miss that. Too tied down with The Captain’s Berth now. I’ve still got an ancient dinghy that I sail at every opportunity though. Don’t get much time these days but you’re looking at an ex-Senior sailing champ.”
She glanced across at Polly. “And you? What d’you do when you’re not working?”
“Riding is my thing. Can’t afford a horse unfortunately but I go out with our local stables at least once a month. Once the business takes off I’m hoping to do more — even one day to make enough money to get my own horse,” Polly said smiling.
At the moment that dream was as far out of reach as ever. When she got home after this job she’d definitely have to do some publicity and get some more clients — although the couple of enquiries she’d had this week sounded promising. Maybe the advertising she’d done in the past few weeks was starting to pay off after all.
They were walking past the boatyard on their way home when Will came out carrying an outboard motor.
“Hi, can’t stop. Customer is waiting for this down on the embankment. I’ll pick Solo up usual time tomorrow,” he said to Angie before glancing at Polly. “Rosie up to a tramp across Dartmoor? And you of course.”
Polly hesitated. A walk out on the moors certainly appealed but was it a good idea to spend time like that with Will when she was investigating the boatyard business? On the other hand, it wasn’t a true conflict of interests — and Daniel had said he wanted a personal view of things. She might learn a bit more about the business and Will as they walked.
“There aren’t any boats up there for you to worry about,” Will said, smiling at her.
“In that case, Rosie and I would love a tramp across Dartmoor,” Polly said making up her mind. She’d often read about the untamed and desolate area of the West Country with its bogs and wild ponies. It would be good to see something of it for herself.
The fact that for a couple of hours it would be just her and a man she was increasingly attracted to, spending time alone together, didn’t of course enter into it.