On a Sunday morning Rose had expected Morvah Marine to be deserted so was taken aback to find Finn outside, manhandling a piece of wood from a pile outside the door. The plank still appeared to have the bark on the edges and she watched him manoeuvre it towards a machine tucked under a tarpaulin, presumably to protect it from the rain.
She slowed her step, waiting for him to become aware of her presence and if she was brutally honest, she was enjoying the view. He was wearing jeans that were faded and ripped from actual hard use, rather than in a fashion factory, and a black T-shirt. The way his arm muscles tautened and relaxed as he shifted the heavy wood to the machine … she loved it. The wood seemed to slip. He gained purchase of it again but not before swearing softly.
The moment he laid it on the bench by the machine, he caught sight of her.
‘Morning,’ she said.
Finn looked startled and was breathing hard. ‘Morning,’ he said, but frowned.
‘I – um – came to look around.’ She was reluctant to say she’d had a direct invitation from Joey. She wondered where Joey was.
‘Oh, yeah. Joey did mention it.’
‘If it’s a bad time, I can come back another day.’
Finn shook his head. ‘No. Joey went up to the office. I’m sure he’ll be down in a minute. Come on in.’ His smile was warm. ‘Be careful. It’s a bit of a mess.’
Rose stepped into the shed, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the shadow. There was a light on, but it was no match for the bright sun outside.
The smell assailed her. It almost blocked out every other sense. She knew it was wood because every spare space was filled with planks and offcuts. There were pieces tucked behind the door, long lengths balanced on metal racks suspended from the ceiling. Piles of it – all still with the bark on – had also been laid outside under tarpaulins and corrugated sheets.
‘Wow! That smell.’
‘Smell?’
‘Of wood.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He nodded but said no more. She realised he’d been surrounded by it so long he didn’t even notice it, but it was like a perfume to her.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw what was making the shed so dark: the boat was on scaffolding and seemed huge close up. It looked recognisably like a finished vessel, but from the trestles and machinery around it, she could see it was a work in progress.
Finn also emerged from the shadows and stood before her eyes, hands on hips, gazing up at the deck way above his head.
‘This is it: our latest project.’ There was unmistakeable pride in his voice.
Her lips parted. She’d never been so close to a boat in such a confined space and what struck her was how much of it – its keel, she supposed – was below the water.
‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’ He was still gazing at the boat.
‘Very.’ Still awestruck, she stared up at the boat too.
‘What did you say she is again?’
‘A gaff rig cutter.’
‘OK … and that means?’
‘A gaff is a four-sided sail. The cutter just means it has more than one fore sail.’
‘There’s a lot of wood. I mean, obviously because you make wooden boats, but I hadn’t expected quite so much of it to be stored on the site. I saw piles of it outside.’
‘We leave the timber to season outside under tarpaulins. Some of it’s been here for years. We could use green wood but seasoned makes a sturdier boat.’
‘Green?’
‘Unseasoned wood. Some boatbuilders use it but we prefer to wait. See the piece I just put on the planing machine? I know which tree that came from on the Tresize Estate. I chose it.’
‘Wow. I’d no idea you actually got the wood from so close by, let alone picked the tree.’
‘It’s important to us that we know the provenance of the wood. Important to the clients too. Some of them, anyway.’
In her head, Rose couldn’t help wondering what type of client had the cash to keep a team of craftspeople working.
‘Boats aren’t just boats,’ Finn said. ‘Wooden boats are more like a living thing.’ He rested his hand on the hull, spreading his fingers. They were strong and dusty and there were healed scars. Boatbuilding must be a hazardous business.
She’d noticed boats and sailing had a whole language of their own: maybe they didn’t want her to understand it, a secret code between them … She wanted to collect the words and write them down in a book. Then again, archaeology had its own language. Didn’t any activity, be it hairdressing or soldiering?
‘Here’s your man,’ Finn said, as Joey clattered down the metal steps from the office. ‘I’ll get back to my work, then.’
However, Joey had only just reached Rose when a female voice bellowed from the top of the steps.
‘Joey!’
Joey’s eyes flickered with annoyance. ‘Sorry. I won’t be a sec,’ he said. ‘I just need to see what Mum wants.’
Rose was amused by Adonis having to see what his mother wanted, but he’d barely moved when Dorinda herself trotted down the metal steps and joined him and Rose. ‘Oh, hello …’ she said, clearly taken aback to have a visitor in her domain. Unlike Finn, Joey clearly hadn’t warned his mother she was coming.
Keen blue eyes – like Joey’s – swept over Rose and her summer dress and Converse. Clad in dungarees and work boots, Dorinda was taller than Rose by a few inches. Her hair, gold shot through with grey, was held back by a spotted bandana tied in a bow. Rose immediately saw who Joey took after, at least in looks. Dorinda was a striking woman in every way.
‘I didn’t realise we had a visitor,’ she said pleasantly enough.
‘This is Rose,’ Joey said. ‘I invited her to see where we hang out.’
‘Hello, Rose. You must be the girl who’s moved above Cornish Magick.’
Rose had ceased to see herself as a ‘girl’ when she went to university, but she decided not to ruffle Dorinda’s feathers by pointing it out.
‘I’m Dorinda,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘Not from me,’ Joey shot back, rolling his eyes.
‘All good, I hope?’ Rose tried to keep things friendly.
‘You’re an archaeologist, aren’t you?’ Dorinda said, pointedly avoiding the question.
‘Yes, I’m here to study some of the ancient stone circles in the area. I’m also working on a dig down at King Arthur’s Pool with Penryn University.’
‘Sounds fascinating,’ Dorinda said, then turned to Joey. ‘Joey, have you finished the renovation on the Choudhurys’ dinghy because I’ve had Mrs C on the phone. The family are coming down for the weekend and they’d like you deliver the boat to their mooring.’
‘It’s all in hand,’ Joey said. ‘Just chill out.’
Dorinda let out a snort of disgust. ‘Chill? As if I have time to “chill”.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘I know but what I meant was, don’t worry. I’d already planned to take it down there. Mind you, I’ll need a lift back …’ His voice lifted hopefully. ‘Maybe Rose can pick me up if she’s going past this week? It’s on the way out of the village.’
‘I’m sure she’s got enough to do with her work without changing her plans to ferry you about,’ Dorinda said turning to Rose with a sigh. ‘I do apologise for my youngest son. He can be very presumptuous.’
‘Well …’
‘I thought you’d be working at the dig this week? I can call you when you’re on your way home and wait at the top of the drive for you.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ Rose said, feeling awkward at being caught in between this power tussle between mother and son.
Dorinda rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve put Rose on the spot now. If it inconveniences you, you must tell him.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Rose said. ‘If I change my plans, or I’m delayed, then I’ll text you.’ She directed this at Joey.
With an eyebrow lift to Rose that seemed to express amused frustration, but could also have concealed genuine anger, Dorinda left.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rose caught a glance from Finn.
Joey ushered Rose towards the open door. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Mums eh? What can you do? Look, there’s going to be a racket around when Finn starts planing so shall we go down the boatyard café for a brew?’
‘Sounds good but can you afford to take a break?’ Rose was tempted to add ‘Will your mum let you?’ but didn’t dare.
‘Not really, but that won’t stop me. She’ll still be here when I get back.’
‘She?’
‘The boat. The cutter we’re building.’ Joey began walking in the direction of the slipway.
‘Oh, I see.’ Rose had thought he meant Dorinda.
‘A project like this can’t be rushed.’ He grinned. ‘Not when Finn’s in charge. He’s a tree hugger, you know.’
Rose wasn’t sure how to react. She was amused but also liked Finn. She felt she was being subtly manoeuvred into joining Team Joey and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
‘He certainly seems passionate about making sure the boat has the right provenance.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘But isn’t that why your customers are attracted to your work? Because of all the attention to detail, the heritage and the fact that you guys care so much?’
‘Yeah … sure they are and I care too. I’m not knocking Finn; he knows what he’s doing and he really believes in the craft, and all the authenticity and, and, and …’ He smiled. ‘I just wish he wouldn’t take life so seriously all the time. He looks like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders since he got more involved in helping Mum run this place.’
‘It’s not the same thing but I love getting out on digs and to ancient sites. I enjoy teaching the students, but all the admin and departmental politics grinds me down.’
‘You mean you don’t spend your whole time digging up gold coins and skeletons of kings and queens?’
‘I wish!’ Rose said then smiled. ‘That’s not my thing, but no, I do spend a lot of my time in a dusty library, office or boring faculty meeting.’
‘You could have fooled me.’ He gave her the look, blue eyes shining with amusement. ‘I don’t mean to be sexist, but you don’t look like an archaeologist.’
‘Mornin’, Joey!’
Before Rose could respond, a young woman hailed them as they approached a wooden café kiosk beside the slipway. Rose recognised her from one of her earlier forays to the yard.
‘Mornin’, Bo,’ Joey replied.
They were clearly on very familiar terms. Joey mentioned that Rose was staying in the area for her work and Bo made polite conversation while she made a cappuccino for Joey and a fruit tea for Rose.
‘Bacon butty too?’ Bo called above the hiss of the coffee machine.
‘Not today. Have to watch my weight.’
Bo looked him up and down. ‘Doesn’t bother you usually,’ she said archly.
‘I’ve turned over a new leaf,’ he said and Rose noticed the slight compression of Bo’s lips before she laughed and said, ‘That’ll be the day. I know you’ll be back for the usual soon enough.’
Sophie, Bo … Rose wondered if it were true that Joey had left a trail of broken hearts around the local area, like crumbs left by Hansel and Gretel. She was following them … but she knew what she was doing, didn’t she?
They took their drinks to a small paved area behind the kiosk that bordered the estuary. The two tables were occupied so they sat on the wall with their feet dangling above the water. Moorhens and coots dabbled around in the water. In the distance, Rose could hear the high-pitched drone of machinery, presumably from the boatyard. Once again, she was aware that Joey was chatting to her while his family worked. She didn’t want to keep him too long, but she was compelled to know more about him.
He drank his coffee, seemingly content to sit and contemplate the scene for a few moments.
Rose spoke first: ‘So, what does an archaeologist look like, then?’
‘Weedy, beardy and weird,’ he shot back.
That might account for half of Rose’s colleagues but she didn’t say so. ‘A high proportion are women, actually.’
Joey smiled. ‘I was joking.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘OK. Not really.’
She laughed. ‘It’s an accurate description of some, but by no means all. As I said, quite a few of us are women. None of us had beards when I last looked and most are surprisingly ordinary.’
‘You’re not.’
Rose’s reply dried in her throat but she recovered after a sip of tea. ‘Oh, I am. I promise you. Boringly so.’
‘No. There’s something … extraordinary about you.’
I could say the same about you, thought Rose, finding it impossible to tear her eyes from that handsome face. ‘Come off it.’
‘No. I think you’re very unusual. Different in a good way.’
‘I’m just a novelty here, that’s all, and I don’t blame people if they think what I do is a bit weird.’ She laughed. ‘I promise you that by Cambridge standards, I’m distinctly average. And, anyway, I thought we were here to arrange a sailing lesson?’
‘If you’re not busy. I thought we could go somewhere once I’ve delivered the Choudhurys’ dinghy to its mooring after work one day this week. Then afterwards we could go for a sail. How does Tuesday or Wednesday evening sound?’
She smiled. ‘Blimey. You seem to have it all worked out.’
‘Well, to be fair, the tide’s right midweek for taking the dinghy back in the early evening so I would have sailed it back then anyway.’ He had a glint in his eye.
‘Oh. OK.’ She shook her head in amusement. ‘I can probably do Wednesday after work. Why not?’ she said, trying to sound casual, while her beating heart told her she felt anything but casual at the prospect of finding out more about Joey. ‘Had you got anywhere in mind?’
‘I could suggest a couple of waterside pubs for a drink and a bite to eat. The Ferryman’s a great local but that’s a mixed blessing. It’s too local and we might feel like we’re living in a goldfish bowl,’ he said. ‘I’d got somewhere a bit … different in mind. Somewhere we can combine with your sailing lesson. If that’s OK with you?’
Rose was too intrigued to refuse. ‘OK. I’ll trust your judgement on where.’
‘Great. I’ll make a booking then, shall I? Wherever it is, it’ll be an easy sail.’
‘It’ll have to be! I thought I’d be taking out one of the little dinghies from the sailing centre, not in charge of a proper boat.’
‘The principle’s the same,’ Joey said. ‘And you will need to get some experience on your own, but I thought it would be more exciting to go out on Spindrift for your first time.’
‘Sounds good. I’ll look forward to it.’ She drained her coffee. ‘I think we’d both better get back to work now. I need to finish a paper on Iron Age burial rituals.’
‘You do know how to live,’ said Joey with a chuckle, before getting to his feet and collecting their mugs. ‘I’ll take these back to Bo.’
‘Thanks. See you Wednesday, then.’
They went their separate ways. Rose taking the long route over the footbridge to the village car park, and Joey towards the boatshed.
Even as she drove out of Falford, Rose’s mind wasn’t on ancient fogous and Iron Age settlements, but on the intriguing new developments surrounding Joey. He’d already lived up to one of Oriel’s dire warnings, but Rose felt perfectly safe. After all she was pre-warned and certain that she could resist his charms even if his reputation might be well earned. Sophie and Joey clearly had history and there had been something in the look and undercurrent of tension between him and Bo that had put her on the alert.
Plus, he’d deftly steered her into accepting his offer and she suspected it could be very easy to get in deeper with Joey. She longed to know if he was her man, but she didn’t want to let her guard down and reveal her own secret until – and if – she was ready.