CHAPTER SIX

Mary

A week before Easter, Mary rang to tell Greg that she had procured a better job back with her old boss in Southampton. It started at the end of her Easter leave. Greg asked her to come down for Easter by train and then, if she wanted, they’d sail back together to Southampton.

‘What do you mean, if I wanted?’ she almost shouted down the phone.

‘Oh, Mary, my love, you’ve no idea how I’ve missed you.’

Two days before Easter Mary phoned Greg to ask him to collect her from Newton Abbot. Nobody, observing them outside the railway station where they met, could have been left in any doubt about their fondness for each other.

‘Oh, Mary,’ he said as they hugged, ‘you are beautiful.’

‘Not so dusty yourself,’ she replied

‘Not very romantic meeting you in this,’ he said, as he steered her towards the Curnow van.’

‘Oh, I completely forgot you don’t have a car. I shouldn’t have asked.’

On the drive back to Kingswear she told him about the choice she’d had to make between Aberdeen and Southampton. ‘To say nothing of being nearer to you,’ she said with a grin. ‘I will effectively be understudying my old boss, Don Carruthers.’

As they drove, Greg told her about the new brokerage arrangement with Chris.

Back at the caravan Mary looked around.

‘Glad to see the place tidier than the last time I was here,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘Now, what’s the plan?’

‘Firstly we open a bottle to celebrate your arrival. Then I cook you dinner. Tomorrow I show you the new Amity. I shall be working over Easter, I’m afraid. It’s a good time for people wanting to buy boats, and we have a few which I’ve been advertising widely for sale. Got to be here for business over the holiday, but from Tuesday we are free, weather permitting, to set sail for Southampton. I don’t have to be back until the weekend. Flossie will hold the fort.’

The next morning Mary went with Greg down to the pontoon.

‘My word,’ she said, admiring Amity, ‘she really looks something now. You must have been working your socks off.’

He told her all about being under cover in the boatshed for the winter, Chris’s generosity, and the massive help from Bill Fossett.

‘You’ve got good friends there. Look, I don’t suppose you’ve had time to stock up for our trip. When the shops are open again on Saturday, you are going to be busy. How about I take charge of the victualling for our sail to the Solent?’

‘You’re a gem’ was his reply, accompanied by a hug.

Greg went around with a permanent smile on his face.

When Chris noticed he called out, ‘What did I tell you, Greg? You look like the cat that’s stolen the cream when that girl is around. By the way, Rosemary has talked me into spending more time at home this Easter. The shipyard is closed for four days. Will I be seeing you before you set sail to take Mary back?’

‘Yep. Not planning to cast off until ten o’clock on Tuesday morning. I’ll look in first thing.’

It was a busy weekend for Greg. The high point was that he sealed the deal on his old boat. It meant eleven thousand for him and seven hundred for Curnow. He took a deposit on the forty-five-foot ketch and dealt with three other enquiries that looked promising. Now he could sail with a clear conscience.

Mary never ceased to amaze Greg. While he’d been busy with the customers, in addition to the shopping she had checked everything on Amity - fuel, batteries, VHF radio, Calor gas, life jackets, flares - and topped up the fresh-water tank.

It was the Tuesday after Easter. Chris arrived at his office at eight that morning. Greg was waiting for him.

‘How did the weekend go, Chris?’

‘Excellent. Rosemary and I have not spent so much time together for years. Our trip to Torquay, crowded though it was, seemed fun. Shops were fantastic. Rosemary was in her element. What about yours?’

‘That was good too.’ Greg gave Chris the news. He told him that the cellphone worked well on Amity and that they should be in range during the whole trip to Cowes. ‘First stop Lyme Regis this evening. We should make Cowes on Wednesday. The forecast is good - a bit cold maybe, but I’ve got Mary to keep me warm!’

They sailed to catch the east-going tide. As they cleared the Mew Stone they set course for the thirty-odd miles to Lyme Regis. They huddled together in the cockpit - not just for warmth, but for the intense affection they shared.

‘Oh, how I have missed you, my darling Mary! This is how I have dreamed our days would be: the cliffs, the sun, the sea, and you by my side.’

She smiled and drew closer. She closed her hand over his on the tiller.

‘You do not have a monopoly on those feelings, my love. I have dreamed of this day for all those months I have been away.’

Never more than a few miles from the shore, they followed the big sweep of Lyme Bay along the Jurassic Coast. The coastline rises to high cliffs one moment, then stretches of low land. With the afternoon sun shining on the yellow sandstone at the top of Golden Cap, the highest cliff on the South Coast, they steered straight for this unmistakeable landmark that would lead them to the outer arm of The Cobb, the attractive little harbour at Lyme Regis.

Mary called the harbourmaster on the marine VHF to find out if they would be welcome for the night. A couple of hours later, running close enough to the shore to see the crumbling shale cliffs west of the harbour, they cleared the outer wall and turned back to the west, motoring through the narrow entrance of the harbour. They tied up at the old stone quay outside the Museum where Amity would take the ground safely.

Arm in arm they made their way along the granite Cobb wall.

‘I tied up here,’ said Greg, ‘when I sailed from the Solent to start my new life in Devon. I was sad then, not knowing when I would see you again. Now I am blissfully happy.’

Mary whispered in his ear. ‘Me too.’

On Wednesday evening, they reached Cowes.

As they furled all sail and started the engine to enter the river Mary said, ‘Wouldn’t it be fun to see my old colleagues?’

Greg had misgivings about that and said so.

‘Don’t be a spoilsport. I’ll only be a few minutes. We can tie up on the Customs pontoon. When I’ve seen my old pals I’ll pop next door and check on the ferry times to Southampton in the morning.’

They had agreed that Greg should sail from Cowes the next morning so as to be back in Dartmouth by the weekend. One stop in Weymouth should do it. He did not have pleasant memories of the last time he was tied up on the Customs pontoon.

She returned in half an hour.

‘That was great to see them again. For old times’ sake, can we go back to the pub where we had our first date?’

So up the river they motored to the marina in East Cowes.

Seven o’clock saw them in the pub. Nothing seemed to have changed, and after they were well into their drinks, and laughing at the incident that led to their first meeting, Mary leaped up.

‘Got a surprise for you, Greg,’ she said, and a tall man who seemed familiar walked over to them and held out his hand as he spoke.

‘Our intrepid dope smuggler, I believe?’

Greg looked to Mary.

‘You obviously don’t remember my boss, Don Carruthers?’

‘I’ll put you out of your misery,’ said Don. ‘I was in uniform then. You had a passenger on your yacht who tried to flush his dope down your heads.’

‘Ahh,’ said Greg, ‘not something of which I am proud.’

‘Let us talk about more pleasant things,’ said Don. ‘I think congratulations are in order, don’t you, Greg?’

Before Greg could answer - in fact, he didn’t understand the question - Mary intervened: ‘I asked Don to join us. I haven’t told you Greg; I wanted it to be a surprise for the evening. When I saw Don earlier he told me it was no longer confidential information that I am to take over his job one day.’

She went on to explain that her appointment was largely due to his recommendation and that it would mean a hike-up in grade from assistant preventive officer to a full PO - another ring on the sleeve.

‘I have to tell you’, said Don, ‘that I am pleased to meet again the man who has so much influence on Mary. I really should have left you two alone this evening but I wanted to wish you both well for the future.’

There was an embarrassed silence for a few seconds as Mary and Greg looked at each other.

‘Oh dear,’ said Mary, ‘I didn’t realise that it showed that much.’

At that moment Greg’s happiness was absolute. His face turned into a tender smile as put his arm around Mary’s shoulders. As Mary coloured up, Don could see he’d said something out of turn. He thought Greg knew how fond Mary was of him. He felt embarrassed himself, and as he rose to leave he leaned toward them.

‘Well, I’m glad we didn’t lock you up, or Mary would have been visiting you in Dartmoor.’

‘I wouldn’t have minded if she’d had me in handcuffs the first night we met on the boat!’ said Greg laughing, at which Mary coloured up again.

Don smiled, and said, as he turned to walk out of the pub, ‘At the time, I advised Mary not to rely too much on intuition. I warned her that her intuition would get her into trouble one day. In the event she was right about you.’

Greg realised that he had been very lucky indeed not to have been prosecuted at that time and he now suffered stabs of conscience knowing that Mary’s intuition about him being an innocent party had played a large part in him getting away with it, and an even larger part in their getting together.

The next morning he put Mary ashore on the Southampton fast-ferry pontoon and made his way out into the Solent. As soon as the diminishing figure of Mary blowing kisses to him disappeared from view as he sailed out of the river, he knew what he really wanted: a home with Mary. He could still turn back and tell her.

Why didn’t he? Perhaps it was because he was reminded of his father’s words shortly before his marriage over thirty years ago: “Young men forsake all common sense when faced with the love of a woman.”

He turned westwards for Dartmouth. He decided to sail overnight non-stop for the Dart. The wind was south of west, which meant he could complete the passage with only a few long tacks during the night and make his landfall in daylight early next morning. A twelve-hour sail effectively cancels out the east/west tidal changes. His starboard tack took him well outside the Portland Race.

‘There’s one thing about night sailing,’ he said to himself: ‘it gives you plenty of time to think.’

As he sailed through the night he thought of his future. As he looked at the stars he thought of Mary - what life would be like with her by his side. Clear of the shore lights, the stars were bright - near enough for him to reach out and grab one. Was he mad not to have grabbed at the chance for happiness? All he need have said was ‘Will you marry me?’

At first light the next morning he was some twelve miles south-east of Berry Head. He had been watching its flashing light for half an hour.

‘Two short tacks and I’ll be home in a couple of hours. No drama. Get your head down until lunchtime. And it’s only Friday. Good ’un Greg,’ he said out loud to himself. And so it was.

A voice calling out if it might come aboard woke him. It was Chris.

‘Saw your arrival. Guessed you’d be tired, so left you alone.’

‘What time is it?’ said Greg sleepily.

He hadn’t even bothered to take off his sailing clothes, just his boots.

‘Four in the afternoon,’ said Chris. ‘I assume you sailed all night?’

‘Yes indeed. And, ye gods, I’m hungry!’

‘Well, before you attend to that I’ve some good news - lots of news actually, but this bit will do for now. The guy came back with his wife for the ketch, paid the balance with a building-society cheque. John called the bank to find his deposit had cleared so I let him sail away.’

‘That’s great. What’s the other news?’

‘I’ll leave that until tomorrow, Greg. It’s a bit complicated and will take time to explain. I assure you there’s nothing for you to worry about. In fact I’m confident you will approve of my little plan for the future, and it involves you.’

‘Well, sounds mighty mysterious to me, but as it so happens I too have plans to tell you about my future.’

‘We’ll swap plans in the morning, then, if you’re free?’ said Chris.

Greg was finishing his breakfast in the caravan when Chris banged on the door.

‘Give us a cuppa and I’ll get to the point,’ he said. ‘This is going to take a minute or two. During the three days you have been away things have moved fast. I didn’t want to interrupt your time with Mary.’

‘Great,’ said Greg, ‘but where do I come in?’

Chris continued: ‘When I handed over the brokerage to you what I didn’t tell you was that I had been approached a couple of years ago by a large international firm of yacht brokers to provide them with a branch office here on the premises. At that time I turned them down. They phoned again on Tuesday just after you left. John Dalton has, quite rightly, urged me to reconsider their improved offer. It would make a considerable contribution to our cash flow.’

Chris went on to tell Greg that he had agreed to their offer subject to Greg being the manager of the branch and wanting the job.

‘What do you mean, wanting the job?’

‘They proposed putting in a salaried manager. After talking to their managing director, Brian Hope, he said he had no objection to yourself, but the best way, if you wanted the job, would be for you to put forward to them a three-year plan showing costs, turnover and potential profit. We keep your services. You have a salaried job and still become a director of Curnow Ltd. Happiness all round!’

‘You’re a bloody genius, Chris. Now for my news. Thought you should be the first to know - I’m going to ask Mary to marry me.’

‘That’s great, Greg. What have I been telling you all along?’ Chris answered with a laugh. ‘I am so happy for you. Is it all right if I call Rosemary to tell her?’

Greg nodded his head vigorously.

‘As far as the new job is concerned, you can go to Lymington, where they are based, and negotiate your own contract. They obviously need to talk to you before entering a deal with us, which they are keen to pursue. As well as the lump sum they will pay us for exclusive brokerage on this site; they will pay the Curnow Yard Ltd rent for the sales office, which Curnow will have to build and you manage.’

Greg thought for a moment.

‘Why should I be so favoured?’

‘Because you have done good work for me over the last eight months and barely been paid. You’ve been an asset to the company and I need an assistant. I trust you. You have proved your worth - will that do?’

Greg reminded him that he’d had free berthing, parking for the caravan and many other benefits.

‘Sure,’ said Chris, ‘and now I want it on a formal basis. John and I have discussed every aspect of this plan. There is a place for you here. It’s up to you.’

‘What about your brother?’ asked Greg.

‘Harry is happy doing what he does, and I’m extremely glad he’s doing it. Sure, he’s overqualified, but the efficiency of the warehouse operation is more important now than it ever was. I have noticed a vast improvement there since Harry has been in charge. I’ll be straight with you, Greg. You know that blood is thicker than water, but I know that given the right encouragement Harry will keep his nose clean. He is not anywhere near as experienced as you, either in business or to do with boats. He knows he could not do the job I’m asking you to do.’

‘When do you want me to contact these people in Lymington?’

‘As soon as possible’ was the reply. ‘Phone Brian Hope on Monday morning. Flossie will give you the details. The company name is QC Ltd. It stands for Quality Craft. You can use one of our vans to drive there if it’s available - have a word with John first.’

Chris got up to leave but before he got to the door Greg grasped his hand.

‘I don’t know what to say, Chris.’

Back came the reply: ‘Don’t say anything until you return from Lymington. You might blow the interview! If you don’t like their terms, I’m confident they’ll still want to go ahead with their own manager; but Brian has promised to give me a full explanation if you turn it down or they turn you down.’

‘Oh, come on, Chris,’ said Greg. ‘You know that’s just not going to happen.’

Chris was beaming as he left the caravan.

Greg had much to think about and foremost was Mary. He knew she had moved back into her flat in Southampton. He phoned her there. She answered.

‘There’s a man here’, he said in a disguised voice, ‘who wants to marry you.’

The silence was agonising for Greg. He waited.

‘That’s Greg,’ she blurted out. ‘What did you say?’

‘Will you marry me? I said.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘You still haven’t answered me,’ said Greg.

‘Of course I will, you old fool,’ she cried, ‘but where are we going to live?’

‘I admit’, he said, ‘there are one or two thorny problems to be worked out, but sailors are faced with such problems all the time, my darling lovely Mary. Let’s work on it. Love will find a way, you said. You haven’t told me you love me yet.’

‘Now, listen, Greg, this isn’t funny. Of course I love you, but I’m just about to start a new job and I’m a hundred and fifty miles away.’

‘That’s another thing we have in common’ was his reply. ‘I am about to start a new job and I also am a hundred and fifty miles away. Guess we need to talk about it.’

‘Greg, my love, what are you on about?’

He told her about the QC offer. More important to him was the fact that he would probably be on his way to Lymington in the next few days, ‘for my job interview’, as he put it. ‘Then I will only be about fifteen miles away. So how about giving me a bed for the night?’

‘Put that way, and seeing as how you want my hand in marriage, I don’t see how I can refuse,’ she replied, laughing.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow when I know more,’ he said, and they signed off with kisses blown down the phone.

Greg was waiting in the office when John Dalton came in on Monday morning.

‘I know what you want, I think. Chris phoned me over the weekend. One of the vans will be available for you to take to Lymington any day this week.’

‘Thanks, John. However, I’ve got another favour to ask. I’d like to see Mary in Southampton whilst I’m up there. Would it be OK to go up one day and come back the next? I’ll make sure the tank is full when I return.’

John indicated his approval, as Flossie arrived for work, bright and breezy as usual.

‘I know what you want,’ she said to Greg.

‘You lot must be mind-readers. You’re the second one to say that in the last five minutes.’

‘Use Chris’s desk,’ said Flossie. ‘He won’t be in for an hour or so. I’ll try to get Mr Hope’s secretary.

Flossie put the call through. Mr Hope could see him after lunch at two on Thursday. He was to bring his plan with him. Mr Hope and his financial director would go through it with him.

There followed two days of feverish activity, preparing the proposal for Greg to take to QC. On Wednesday morning Chris, John and Greg went through the plan they had all been working on. John Dalton emphasised that the sum QC were to pay up front was the main issue. In the short term it was important for their cash flow. They had taken delivery from the moulding company of the hull and deck for the patrol boat. Fitting out had commenced. The expenses were rising. John reminded Greg that Curnow had to bear the cost of the new office building.

Armed with all this information he phoned Mary, put on his one and only suit, and set off for Lymington on Thursday morning.

Brian Hope greeted Greg with a firm handshake. He was a man of about sixty, medium height, with plenty of well-groomed short grey hair. He introduced him to Tom Sinclair, the company secretary and financial director, who was sat next to him in a spacious office with a large mahogany table, at which Greg was signalled to sit. The panelled walls of this room were liberally decorated with Beken photographs of all types of pleasure craft. Greg didn’t reckon any of these craft were worth less than quarter of a million.

‘I like the principles agreed with Chris Curnow,’ said Brian Hope. ‘Tom here will check as to whether the sums add up. Tell me about yourself. I want to know why Chris has such a high opinion of you that he has practically made our agreement conditional upon our employment of you as branch manager.’

Greg gave Brian Hope a résumé of his business and boating experience and what he’d been doing for the Curnow Yard over the last seven or eight months. Thus, just half an hour after Greg had entered that office, Brian answered, ‘Mr Norfield, I am satisfied you can do the job as manager. It remains for my financial director to comment on your figures.’

At that moment Tom Sinclair re-entered the room. He had a question.

‘Mr Norfield, whilst it is commendable to link your salary to performance, rising as you suggest over the years as the sales volume increases, I am a little unsure how you will be able to do the job without assistance.’

‘Mr Sinclair,’ replied Greg, ‘either our typist has made a mistake or I haven’t put it down correctly but “salary” is meant to cover more than one person, when it becomes affordable. I’d like to think that employment of assistance is at the branch manager’s discretion. Curnow will provide every assistance possible to make this plan profitable for both companies.’

‘Does that satisfy you, Tom?’ said Brian.

‘It certainly does. I will amend the document to say “salaries”, if I may.’

Greg nodded his assent, and Tom continued.

‘My initial reaction from looking through the figures is that they will satisfy the board.’

Brian Hope rose from his chair.

‘All that remains, Greg, is for us to chew this over. I don’t have any more questions. If any arise, I’ll give Chris or yourself a call. We have a board meeting next Monday. Tom will put this matter on the agenda and let you know our decision the moment we have made it.’

Greg shook hands with the two men and Brian’s secretary showed him out.

The little MG was not in its reserved space outside Mary’s place when Greg arrived. He parked the van nearby, from where he could see the entrance to the flat. He did not have long to wait. She parked, got out with an armful of packages, turned and saw him walking along the pavement toward her.

His arms went round her in an instant. She dropped her goods as they clung together. There is a closeness, a warmth, a fragrance, that is unique to lovers. They were oblivious to the obstruction they caused to passers-by on the pavement, who stepped round them and smiled - memories for some and hope for others.

‘Now look what you’ve done!’ was all she could utter as she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief she took from Greg’s top pocket.

‘Sorry, miss. Perhaps I ought to go?’

‘You dare! And anyway, I could do with the money for the bed and breakfast!’

He helped her to pick up the dropped goods and they went up to the flat on the first floor. The table in the living room was already laid for supper.

‘I’m so happy you are early, but I wanted to have the meal on the go before you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise,’ she said.

‘I’ll help you. I’m not going to let you out of my sight, my lovely - not even for one minute. Got any wine? I want to hear all your news.’

‘Never mind about my news. What’s this new job you were talking about?’

Over their glasses of wine, sat on the sofa with their arms around each other, Greg explained the deal he discussed with Brian Hope that afternoon. Mary was clearly excited about it all and yet Greg detected a hint of disappointment when she talked about the new job that she had been in only for a few days. There was not the enthusiasm she had shown back in the pub in Cowes.

As they prepared the supper together they discussed every way open to them to be together as much as possible. Mary seemed the least happy about being so far apart, even if she drove down to Dartmouth every weekend. Her job looked like being a Monday-to-Friday affair whereas his made working at the weekends essential. Greg was more upbeat about it.

‘Look, my love, although I was only ten years old at the beginning of World War Two I can remember that people got married during a few days’ leave and didn’t see each other again for years. It’s only a hundred and fifty miles. Who knows, I might do so well with QC that I become managing director, and then I’ll be based in Lymington. We can have a house halfway between our two jobs - say, at Lyndhurst - and live happily ever after!’

For the first time Greg saw Mary was cross.

‘Greg, please, there you go again being facetious.’

‘Oh dear,’ he said as he pulled her closer, ‘our first tiff. I’m truly sorry, but I refuse to put obstacles in the way. We will find that way together. Promise me?’

‘I promise,’ she said, smiling again. ‘You were a drifter when I met you. Now you have a purpose. You have changed, and I love you the more for it.’

They ended the evening agreeing that Mary would drive down on Saturday and then Greg would take her into Dartmouth to buy an engagement ring. He had to be away early in the morning to report to Chris. That night happiness had returned for both of them.

Driving back to Kingswear in the morning Greg had time to reflect. His lovely Mary was part of his future. He was confident the QC plan would be agreed. He had good friends to help make it a success. He had a new boat even if the time to sail it was much diminished. He had a job: a regular income for the first time in years. He would throw everything into it. He would make it work. He’d find a way to include Mary. They would be together again tomorrow.

He was back by midday. He climbed the stairs to the offices. Chris was all smiles.

‘I had Brian on the phone an hour ago. He was impressed with you and your presentation. He’s going to recommend the board accepts the plan, with minor adjustments, on Monday. Well done, Greg.’

‘I popped the question,’ said Greg with a grin.

‘What question?’ queried John Dalton, who walked in at that moment.

‘We’re getting married. Mary is coming down tomorrow. We are going in to Dartmouth to buy the engagement ring.’

Flossie spontaneously gave Greg a hug.

‘She’s a lovely person. I’m so glad for you, Greg.’

Chris offered him a handshake and John voiced his approval.