Polly went back with Angie to The Captain’s Berth and tried to concentrate on work. Opening her laptop she saw one of her regular customers, a businessman with links all over the world, had e-mailed several documents he wanted her input on. There was a P.S. at the bottom of his mail.
“Mentioned you to a mate of mine in the States recently. Dan Franklyn. Hope he put some work your way.”
So that was how Daniel had got her name. Quickly she typed a reply thanking the client for the recommendation.
Half an hour later she popped out to the local council offices to check some of their records before returning and spending an hour on the internet. The legal agreement between Worldsend and the Robertsons was being drawn up by the lawyers as Dan had said, but there were still a couple of things she needed to tie up for her report.
Some more work had come in from another of her original clients and she checked to see how much there was to do before deciding to sign off for a couple of hours. Work certainly seemed to be on the increase for her.
From her bedroom window she could see the Mary-Jane moored in the river, the small yellow quarantine flag fluttering in the breeze at the top of her main mast.
Angie had explained earlier that flying the yellow jack at the end of a sea crossing was just a courtesy thing these days, although the Harbour Master would probably go and check things out before whoever was on board came ashore. From her vantage point Polly couldn’t see any activity on board Mary-Jane. In fact there was very little activity out on the river at all.
Angie insisted on giving Polly some lunch before they walked down together to the boatyard to see if there was any news about Will.
When they got there Will himself was already talking to Ben and Lillian. “Jack Pettyjohn’s been picked up on the M4 near Exeter. Police initially stopped him for speeding in his Merc. Of course once they realised who he was he was arrested and is now on his way back to answer some questions about Black Sam.”
“It’s too early to know what really happened to Black Sam,” Will continued soberly. “It could of course have been a simple accident but the police aren’t ruling out foul play. They were really interested in what I could tell them about last night.”
“Yes, Will. About last night,” Ben said.
Will glanced at his dad. “After you left, I made some coffee and settled down in the wheelhouse. Nothing happened for a couple of hours then I saw someone rowing downriver toward the slipway. Pettyjohn and Black Sam in the tender dinghy from his yacht. Luckily the workboat camera batteries were charged and I managed to get a couple of photos — including one of the can of petrol in the bottom of the dinghy. Hope to hell they come out. Be no disputing the evidence then.” Will paused and looked at Lillian.
“They were making their way to set fire to the wooden day boats we’d left on the slipway waiting to be launched.”
Lillian gasped in horror.
“Seeing Pettyjohn start to climb from the dinghy onto the slipway with the can of petrol I decided enough was enough and switched on the searchlights from the wheelhouse before shouting at them.” Will laughed. “I spooked him so much he lost his balance and fell into the water. That was a good moment,” Will added, remembering the look on Jack Pettyjohn’s face as he’d fallen.
“By the time Black Sam had pulled him back into the dinghy the air was blue. It got a lot bluer too when I told them I had photographic evidence and intended going to the police with it. The things they threatened to do to me personally were…let’s say, not fit to be repeated. But I figured they weren’t about to set fire to anything, seeing that Jack was soaked through and I’d rumbled what they were up to, so I decided to leave them to it.”
“Good decision,” Lillian said quietly. “So you don’t know how Black Sam ended up dead in the river?”
Will shook his head. “No. But I suspect Jack Pettyjohn does. He’d already threatened him for failing to do exactly what he wanted.”
“But I still don’t understand why you took off down channel?” Ben said.
“I’d switched the ship-to-shore on for five minutes before I went to sleep and I heard the skipper of the Mary-Jane talking to the coastguards saying he was making for here. Spur of the moment thing — I decided to take a look and see if it was ‘our’ Mary-Jane.”
“You could have told us what you were up to,” Lillian said. “Not knowing where you’d vanished to was scary — particularly when Black Sam’s body was found and the police suspected you were involved.”
“Sorry about that, Mum. I’d left my mobile on the barge and I honestly thought I’d be back before you and Dad were up. I didn’t expect the police complications.”
“So did you find out who’s on board the Mary-Jane?” Ben asked.
Will shook his head. “No. The self-steering gear was rigged up and working. The skipper was clearly catching up on sleep. Once I’d seen it was our yacht, I decided to escort her in from a distance.”
“I was thinking of going over,” Ben said. “Now you’re back we could go together?”
Will nodded. “Why don’t we all go — a proper welcoming party.”
“Oh,” Polly said. “Before you go, I forgot to tell you. Worldsend asked me to arrange a meeting with you tomorrow afternoon. 3.30. The lawyers will have the papers ready for signing by then.”
“Lawyers acting as proxy?” Will asked.
“Somebody from Worldsend is coming,” Polly said. “Don’t know who.”
Will said. “OK. That’s tomorrow afternoon sorted. Right, let’s go. You too, Polly,” he added, looking at her.
Polly instinctively shook her head. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t be,” Will said firmly. “Trust me, Polly.”
Lillian locked the office and they all made their way to the workboat tied up alongside the embankment.
Will had clearly had a word with his father about her phobia, Polly thought, because it was Ben who jumped on board and started the engine, leaving Will free to help Lillian and Angie on board.
Standing there biting her lip and wondering how on earth she could get out of stepping on board, Polly began to feel sick. She watched Lillian and Angie expertly step aboard before Will turned to her.
“It’s a very short trip across to the Mary-Jane — five minutes at the most. Boats don’t come much safer than this one, Polly. Come on. I’ll be with you all the way and nothing is going to happen I promise you. Other than you beginning to face up to your fear.”
Because the tide was in, the distance between the quay and the deck of the boat was just a short jump down. Polly looked at the workboat.
Will was right. She had to face up to her fear. And the workboat was no rubber dinghy. It was a solidly built safe boat — even she realised there was no way it was going to capsize crossing the river. As Will smiled at her encouragingly, Polly placed her hand in his and, taking a deep breath, she stepped downwards onto the deck.
As Ben began to manoeuvre the boat out into the river, Polly stood squeezing Will’s hand tightly, her eyes screwed shut as she struggled to stop herself shaking.
“Polly, open your eyes,” Will said. “Look, there are two swans flying over us.”
Will’s voice broke into her thoughts and slowly she opened her eyes and looked skywards to watch the two large birds, so graceful in flight, make for an inlet upriver.
“Wow, that was something else,” she said.
“See all sorts of things from boats,” Will said. “Often get porpoises out in the bay if you’re interested in seeing them?”
Before Polly could reply, Ben shouted out a greeting as he drew up alongside the moored yacht. “Ahoy, Mary-Jane. Anyone on board?”
“Hi,” a tanned dark-haired man said, appearing in the cockpit. “You the welcoming party?” He grinned at them.
“You could say that,” Ben replied. “You the owner?”
“Yep. Who are you?”
“Ben Robertson. Owner of the yard that built this yacht back in the fifties.”
“In that case you must be my Uncle Ben,” the dark-haired man said. His words fell into a stunned silence.
“You’re William Franklyn’s son?” Ben finally said. “Daniel?”
Polly gave a strangled gasp which had everyone turning to look at her.
“My virtual employer down here is a Daniel Franklyn of Worldsend Enterprises. You’re not…”
“One and the same,” Daniel said. “Pleased to finally meet you, Uncle Ben. You too, Polly — you’ve done a great job.”