Sally Ann's Summer (Marnie Walker)

by Leo McNeir

  “Where is this?”

  “I told you that, too.” Was she testing his story, he wondered. Or was she thick?

  “At a marina.”

  “Where exactly?” Was she suspicious? On balance, he would prefer her suspicious to thick.

  “Up near Tring, Hertfordshire. It’s called Cowroast.”

  “What kind of a name is that?”

  “It’s just the name of the marina.”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Sounds like a barbecue.”

  Gary laughed. He wondered if she found the name so improbable, he had to be telling the truth. Sheena hit him playfully. He took hold of her hands to ward off the blows.

  “Now don’t start a fight.” He grinned at her. “It’ll spoil your make-up.”

  “I’m not wearing any, I told you, or anything else, come to think of it. You should know that.”

  Laughing again, he pulled her towards him under the duvet. It was a perfect day.

  Marnie had had a good day. She arrived home that evening, exhausted but happy. Sally Ann’s new livery of navy blue and cream was completed. The jobs-to-do list had been cut down to size.

  After a supper of scrambled eggs on toast she ran the bath while sorting through the mail and checking her clothes for the journey. As she dozed in the bath, a question began to trouble her.

  Am I becoming some kind of anorak? Is this boat enthusiasm a sign of that – a bad sign?

  She ran her hands over her stomach. Whatever else, she was definitely getting thinner.

  Could I be getting obsessed with the boat? Is this Obsessive Boat Disorder? Could I be anoraksic?

  She laughed at her joke, then quickly stopped. A thought. All-weather clothing. Perhaps an anorak would not be a bad idea.

  On that note she climbed into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  16

  Blur

  Monday morning, bright and early, the last Monday in the office for a long time. Marnie's desk had a strangely tidy look, and fleetingly she wondered if she would ever come back.

  “You're an early bird.” A voice from the other side of the room, Philip in the doorway.

  “I wanted to make sure everything was ready.”

  “And is it? Are you ready for off?”

  “Just about.”

  “I was telling Janet about your plans. You’ve got us thinking about a boating holiday, now.”

  “Watch out,” Marnie said. “They can be habit-forming. The next minute you'll find boats have taken over your life and you haven't got a job any more.”

  Philip crossed the office. “That isn't the case for you, Marnie. This is your desk and your team. You can come back when you're ready, any time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don't forget we're having drinks and nibbles in your honour, lunch-time on Friday. Just a little gathering in the office.”

  “It’s in the diary.”

  Philip grinned. “Nothing formal, no speeches, just to wish you bon voyage.”

  “That'll be nice.”

  Philip nodded. “I think Larry’s organising it.”

  Marnie held his gaze. “Super.”

  Gary was waiting on the bridge when the white van arrived. He climbed in beside Brendan, hoisting his bag behind the seats and they drove north out of London in sluggish traffic. Neither spoke much; incessant pop music blared from the van’s radio. Gary let his thoughts wander. There were four people on his mind, each one with a question mark.

  Where was he going with Sheena? He had had many girlfriends over the years, but rarely had he got on so well with one like her. She was nearly ten years younger than him. Who cared?

  Where was Gravel these days? Had he really left Gary space and time to find out about Old Peter? Not so long ago, Gravel seemed to pop up every five minutes. Now, nothing, silence. Gary had a horrible suspicion that Gravel told you to do something and waited while you did it, probably waited only a very short time. After that … He had an excuse this week. He could hardly keep on his enquiries about the old man when he was away working out of town. Somehow he didn’t think Gravel was very interested in excuses.

  And what about Old Peter? Gary could not believe the old boy had anything worth worrying about. Was he the kind of eccentric who stashed a fortune away under the bed and left it to a sanctuary for retired donkeys? Nah! It was just a daft rumour thought up by some idiot in the pub. The trouble was, how could he persuade Gravel of this?

  Then Marnie. How had she become so pally with Old Peter so quickly? One minute she was a total stranger, the next, she and the old bloke were big buddies. What was going on?

  The van arrived at Cowroast Marina and Gary got his first sight of the job. He was amazed how much work there was to complete the re-fit in only five days. At least it would help take his mind off Sheena.

  For Marnie the week went by in a blur. Everything was falling into place, at the office, at home, on the boat. On Wednesday evening she was in the flat checking her lists when the phone rang.

  “You're in! I don't believe it.”

  “I live here, Beth, remember?”

  “You don’t feel like changing your mind, coming over here?”

  “Nope. I set off on Saturday for the Great Journey. Crack of dawn on the morning tide.”

  “How far are you going on the, er, morning tide?”

  A pause. “Sainsbury's supermarket, Kensal Green.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “That’s just my first port of call. After that, wherever the mood takes me.”

  “So, you’re really serious. What about work?”

  “They've organised a wake for Friday.”

  “Well, I hope you have a good time. Remember all the things we told you.”

  “Sure. You don’t have to worry about the stern gland.”

  “Marnie, tell me something. What actually is the stern gland?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To be honest, I haven't the faintest idea what it is. It was just something Paul was always muttering about.”

  “See you, Beth.”

  “Bon voyage!”

  Marnie was relieved her sister did not add, “Have a nice da-a-ay!”

  17

  Casting off

  On the whole, Marnie thought the Friday lunchtime drinks and nibbles went well. There were no speeches, just a chance to do the rounds, chat to everyone and say her good-byes. When no-one was paying her any particular attention, she slipped out to the car park. They did not even notice her go.

  Outside, she could not believe her eyes. Under the windscreen wiper was a parking ticket. In a private car park? Then she saw that one of the wheels was clamped. What the hell was going on? She pulled the ticket from the windscreen. The Council had no right! Then she noticed that the fine imposed was one million pounds – her jaw dropped – and the signature of the City Treasurer of Westminster Council looked suspiciously like … Mickey Mouse.

  Closer inspection of the wheel-clamp revealed that it was made of cardboard. She pulled it off and stuffed it in the boot of the car. Musing on the potential for fraud offered by modern word-processing packages and the inventiveness of interior designers, she climbed in and switched on. The heater fan came on full, the windscreen wipers leapt into action at double speed, the cassette player blasted her with heavy metal.

  Setting the controls back to normal, she found the rear-view mirror was pointing at something strange lying in the back. Wrapped in an old sack, it looked like a tramp. She got out of the car, extracted the bundle and unwound the sack. Inside was a black plastic rubbish bag, which she opened to reveal a Buckby can, the traditional water container from the old days of boating. In typical boat fashion, they were painted with flowers, and the one Marnie now held by its wooden handle was in dark blue with cream bands dividing the floral sections around the name, Sally Ann. Specially commissioned, it was a beautiful and generous gift.

  Then she saw them. The whole company was li
ned up at the windows of the first floor, waving. Marnie held the can up like a trophy, grinning and blowing kisses. Back in the car, she fastened the seat belt round the can beside her and accelerated out into the street while the firm cheered her off. Ten seconds later she pulled up at the kerb for two reasons. The first was to wipe her eyes. The second was to untie the string holding the row of tin cans to the exhaust pipe.

  Arriving on Sally Ann, Marnie carried out an inspection and was pleased with what she saw. The boat had been transformed inside and out. The table in the saloon was laid for tea with the new crockery, and within minutes of her arrival, Mrs Jolly came on board, the first guest of the new regime, bringing a parting gift of homemade shortbread.

  “And when does your adventure begin, my dear?”

  “At crack of dawn on the morning tide.”

  “Of course.”

  After Mrs Jolly had gone, Marnie felt restless, an eve of departure feeling. While she washed up, a question came to mind. Why wait until tomorrow? She rushed back to the flat, phoned for a taxi and carried her last bag downstairs to the hall. She was setting time-switches for security lighting when the doorbell rang.

  In just over an hour she was back on the boat.

  The traffic bulletins on the van’s radio told Gary and Brendan what they already knew: the Friday afternoon traffic round north London was congested. But they were feeling good. The work had gone well and each of them had a bulge in his pocket that bore more than a passing resemblance to a thick wad of banknotes.

  Gary had also had time to think about Old Peter and make a plan. When they got back to Little Venice he would go round and see Marnie before his date with Sheena. He would say he had been thinking about Sally Ann’s hull and wanted to check it over before her journey. Then, he would get round to the old man.

  Don’t just take my word for it, Marnie, ask Old Peter. You know him, don’t you?

  And:

  I think we should get a second opinion about the mechanical side, too, while we’re about it. Why don’t we ask Old Peter to take a look? Do you want to ask him or shall I?

  What could be simpler?

  The journey would begin now, no waiting for the morning tide. Sally Ann was kitted out and ready to go. Marnie took a deep breath, turned the ignition key and pressed the red button. The engine began thumping, even and steady like a healthy heartbeat. As she pushed off from the bank, Marnie imagined the boat was trembling with the anticipation of the journey ahead.

  This evening, the supermarket at Kensal Green. Tomorrow, the world. But first, there was something she had to do. On the hatch cover that was shining in new paint, stood two tupperware containers. One contained shortbread, the other ginger biscuits, lovingly baked at home, carefully packed in greaseproof paper.

  Gary threw his bag into the saloon on Garrow and went quickly round to Sally Ann, desperate to have something to report when Gravel showed up and asked for progress. But where Sally Ann should have been moored there was only empty water. He did not want to believe it.

  He was standing on the path wondering what to do next when a voice hailed him from behind.

  “Hallo. Excuse me.”

  Gary turned. Looking down through the railings stood an old lady.

  “I’m sorry to interfere, but were you looking for Sally Ann by any chance?”

  “That’s right … Marnie. I’m a … friend of hers. I have to talk to her about the boat.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m worried that Sally Ann might need attention, urgent attention, before she sets off.”

  “Oh dear, I see.”

  “I don’t suppose you know if she’s left already? I’ve been away all week and I’ve come straight round.”

  “No, she’s not left yet. She did say something about going to the supermarket. She’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

  Gary was relieved. “That’s great. I’ll catch her later.”

  “It’s very nice of you to be so concerned about her.”

  A choirboy’s smile. “No problem at all.”

  Marnie brought Sally Ann to a halt and tied up outside the supermarket. Her elation at setting off from Little Venice had given way to a feeling of disappointment. The boxes of biscuits were still standing on the hatch cover.

  She had steered down the side arm where Old Peter lived, looking for the grey-green boat, only to find an empty mooring by the bank. It had not occurred to her that she would leave without saying good-bye. She had wanted a few words of valediction from the old man to send her on her way.

  Returning to the pool of Little Venice, Marnie had circled the island to see down to the tunnel. There had been no familiar shape coming towards her, though she fancied she recognised Gary walking briskly along the towpath.

  She had taken her decision to set off and there would be no wavering. She had pointed Sally Ann towards the other end of the pool and her journey began, with one glance back. Certain that no-one was watching, she had turned and blown a kiss towards Old Peter’s mooring and whispered good-bye.

  Gary legged it back from Marnie’s mooring, glancing at his watch. He had barely time for a shower and a change of clothes before Sheena arrived, but he had to see Old Peter. He turned smartly left and crossed the canal by the bridge, quickening his pace, checking his watch again as he hurried past the waterbuses. Time was against him. He had to force himself not to run. A breathless casual encounter would seem less than convincing. A minute later, for the second time that evening, he found himself staring at a gap where a boat should be standing.

  “I don’t believe it!”

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “Hallo, Gary.”

  Gary snapped round. A head was protruding from the boat beside him, a man in his fifties with short grey hair.

  “You looking for Old Peter?”

  “Er, yeah. Seen him?”

  “He’s been out all afternoon.”

  “By himself?”

  The man looked puzzled for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, by himself.”

  “What are you grinning at?”

  “You were thinking he might be out with … her, weren’t you?”

  Gary’s turn to look puzzled. “You mean …”

  “That’s right, that smart-looking woman. She was here with Old Peter at the weekend. You won’t believe this; she even went on board with him.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I kid you not. D’you think the old boy’s found himself a girlfriend.”

  They laughed together at the idea, but Gary’s mind was racing.

  The supermarket occupied a site near the gasworks, opposite Kensal Green cemetery on the other side of the canal. Marnie made Sally Ann secure at the bollards on the towpath close to the entrance to the shop.

  She hoped to do her rounds and be away in half an hour, but through the glass doors she could see the Friday evening crowds. Progress with the trolley was slow and she bumped and wriggled up and down the aisles, estimating how much she could store on board. Sally's fridge was the size of two shoe boxes and the freezer compartment was big enough to hold a Walkman.

  Gary showered, shampooed and changed into fresh clothes like an automaton. He ought to be thinking about Sheena, but he could only think about Marnie and Old Peter, and whatever it was that had brought them together.

  By the time he jumped off his boat and dashed for the station he had persuaded himself they were up to something, or rather, she was. It was with a shock that he realised he was nearly twenty minutes early. Calm down, Gary! He had time to kill. There was only one option.

  He pushed open the doors of the pub and went in, anxious to tell Gravel he had been away, getting in first before he had to go on the defensive. There was no sign of Gravel, no sidekick. He walked up to the bar.

  “Hi, Gary, what’ll it be?”

  “Er, I’m looking for a mate.”

  “Oh yeah? Who’s that, then?”

  “Middle-aged bloke, very short hair,
leather jacket, gold ear-ring.”

  “No name, your mate?”

  “He’s trying to give it up.”

  “You described half my customers, Gary. It could almost be you.”

  “He usually has that table over there.” Gary pointed.

  “We have a lot of customers, Gary. I don’t know ’em all.”

  “But you know this one, Benny – deep gravelly voice, drinks double scotches, has a sidekick who seems to manage to get served first even when the place is crowded.”

  “Like I said, we have a lot of customers. Some of them have more forceful personalities than others. Anyway, what can I get you? Double scotch is it?”

  “Er, I’ve got a date, better be going. Thanks, Benny.”

  “For what? Bring her back here. You can sit over there if you want. I don’t think anyone’ll be using that table tonight.”

  But Gary had other plans for the evening.

  Marnie struggled from the checkout, looking like a refugee fleeing a battle zone with all her possessions piled high. After an hour in Sainsbury’s, the shopping was too heavy for her to cross the cattle grid that was designed to keep trolleys away from the canal. She humped the bags across to the boat and shuffled through to store them away in the galley.

  She was standing at the workbench panting from her exertions when an unmistakable boat passed by at close quarters. Marnie leapt out on deck just as Joshua pulled in to tie up behind Sally Ann. Jane waved from the tiller as Derek jumped onto the bank holding mooring ropes.

  Five minutes later the three of them were sitting in Joshua's comfortable saloon drinking red wine. Derek spread the map of the southern waterways on the table and traced their journey. Eventually he pushed it towards Marnie.

  “So where are you making for tonight?”

  Marnie glanced out of the window. “Kensal Green, by the look of it.” The evening was drawing on and already the sun was dropping below the gasholders.