‘I don’t want anything, thank you! Been to the quack, they can’t do anything. What’s wrong with my back is down to a lifetime of heavy lifting. Can’t be cured.’
‘Well, if you would like me to—’
She was interrupted by the return of Pete with the drinks. He’d got another pint for himself. They clinked and cheersed.
Pete looked down at the boats drawn up in symmetrical formation on the hardstanding. ‘Harry’s Dream still afloat, is she?’
‘Oh yes,’ said the builder grimly. ‘More than can be said for her owner.’
‘Which one is she?’ asked Jude, pleased to get the pronoun right.
Harry pointed down to a tarpaulin-covered boat on a trailer below. ‘Cornish Shrimper 19 she is. Well, she is now. Hardly was when I bought her. Just a hull then. Damage to the fibreglass shell, interior wood rotting. I replaced virtually every stick of timber in her.’
‘Real labour of love, wasn’t it, Harry?’
‘You can say that again, Pete. And I built berths in there, equipped a galley with a gas cooker and what-have-you. Interior heating, ship’s toilet, all mod cons. Took me years.’
Harry Lasalle looked more cheerful than he had since their conversation started. ‘You know, I done all kinds of major building projects along the South Coast – big houses, conversions, civic developments … you name it. And still, the thing I’m proudest of is that boat down there.’
‘That’s why you called it Harry’s Dream – right?’
‘Yup, Pete, that’s right.’ Gloom suddenly reasserted itself. ‘Mind you, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to keep her.’
‘You thinking of getting rid of Harry’s Dream?’ The decorator sounded shocked. ‘You can’t be serious.’
The old man grimaced. ‘Well, what’s the use of a boat if you don’t take it on the water?’
‘You said she was fine. There’s nothing wrong with her, is there?’
‘Nothing wrong with her, no. Get on to me and that’s another matter.’
‘Don’t do yourself down, Harry.’
‘It’s true, Pete. I used to be able to sail her on my own, no problem. Cross-Channel trips, booze cruises, you name it. Then sometimes the wife crewed for me, but the arthritis got into her legs and she can’t do it no more. And way back, my boy’d come out with me, but he’s got other fish to fry now. So, there’s no way I can actually sail her, not with my back.’
‘I’d be happy to crew for you, Harry.’
‘I know you would, Pete, and I appreciate the offer. But fact is, helming in anything but the calmest of conditions is painful, back gives me so much gyp. So that means … what? I can take the boat out, using the motor, but that’s not what I built her for. Harry’s Dream’s a sailing boat, a yacht, we’re here in a yacht club. No, I think I’ll sell her.’
‘Don’t make any hasty decisions,’ said Pete.
‘Won’t be hasty. I’ve been thinking about it for years.’
‘Well, think a bit longer. You still like going fishing from her, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know,’ came the glum reply. ‘I’m getting bored with that, and all. Getting bored with everything.’
‘Don’t sell her, Harry.’
‘Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll take her out for one last trip … with the bloody motor. See if I can get interested in fishing again. Huh. We’ll see.’ Harry Lasalle looked at his watch. ‘Time I was off. Thanks for the drink, Pete. And nice to meet you …’
Purely automatic politeness. He hadn’t taken in her name.
‘Jude.’
‘That’s right. Cheerio.’ He winced as he rose from his stool and moved a little unsteadily towards the door. Jude wondered whether it was back pain that compromised his movement or the number of double Teacher’s he’d downed. The one Pete had bought him hadn’t lasted long.
On his way to the exit, the old builder was stopped by Lauren Givens, who had left her bar stool to head him off. Jude couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the woman seemed to be asking Harry for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t grant what she wanted. Harry Lasalle tottered on out of the bar. Lauren returned, with a disgruntled expression, to join her husband.
Pete took a thoughtful swallow of beer. ‘Tough for him, poor old Harry. It’ll be tough for me when I get to that point.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Manual labour, Jude. It catches up with you, if you’ve spent your entire life working in a trade where you’re just reliant on your body.’
‘But you’re not just reliant on your body, Pete. Don’t do yourself down. Some of your work I’ve seen definitely qualifies as art.’
He chuckled. ‘Kind of you to say so. And I dare say, over the years, Harry has developed a kind of artistic sense over all the building projects he’s done. But the fact remains that, for both of us, to do our job, we need to be fit. Our bodies have got to work. And, once bits of the old body stop working … well, you can’t go on. I can’t see Harry sitting behind a desk in the office, doing the admin. He’d be bored to tears in no time. Anyway, Veronica’s always done that stuff.
‘So, poor bugger’s going to have to throw in the towel soon and retire. Then what does he do?’
‘Doesn’t he have any hobbies?’
‘Always obsessed by his work, Harry was. Only time he could forget about it was when he was out sailing on Harry’s Dream. And, like you just heard, he can’t do that any more. Again, the old body’s let him down.’
‘Hm.’ Jude took a thoughtful sip of Sauvignon Blanc. ‘And you said it’ll be the same for you, Pete.’
‘Well, it will. Decorators get lots of neck problems, shoulders and knees at risk too. I’m not there yet, thank God, but there’s going to come a time when I can’t shift wardrobes to paint behind them and I can’t spend the whole day up a ladder. Yes, it’ll come to me too.’
‘Let’s hope you’re still able to sail.’ She looked out of the window. ‘Which one’s yours?’
The decorator pointed proudly to a sailing boat which, to Jude’s inexperienced eye, looked just like all the others. But she still let out a suitably impressed ‘Fabulous. And is it called “Pete’s Dream”?’
‘No. Nothing like that. Gull’s Wings.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘I like it. Wife and kids like it. So that’s all fine.’
‘Well, I hope you’re able to sail … her’ – oops, she’d almost said ‘it’ – ‘long into your retirement. And if you can’t … do you have any other hobbies to fall back on?’
‘I do, actually.
‘Oh. What?’
‘I collect eighteenth-century glass.’
The answer was so unexpected that it prompted one of those rare moments when Jude was lost for words.
‘So,’ Pete went on, ‘I’ll be all right. There’s enough to learn about eighteenth-century glass to keep me going for several lifetimes.’ He sighed. ‘But for someone like Harry … how’s he going to fill the time?’
‘How indeed?’
Pete grinned wryly. ‘Hope it’s not with the whisky.’
SIX
While her neighbour was at Fethering Yacht Club, Carole realized that there was some investigation she could do on her own. Though the two women collaborated well, there were times when she felt jealous of Jude’s ease of manner and skill at drawing secrets out of people. Carole liked the feeling of exclusivity she got from doing a bit of private investigation and presenting Jude with the surprise of new information. That was why she enjoyed the element of secrecy inherent in her meetings with Malk Penberthy.