Chapter 1: 6 years later

Life had settled into a rhythm. Up at about 7, out for a run along the sea wall to the dip, to Kingsfleet, or along the Tomline wall as the mood took me, noting the green woodpeckers on the links, Reed Buntings, waders, perhaps a Kestrel. Later in the year there would be Whitethroat, Sedge and Reed Warblers and other summer visitors, but not yet. The first spikes of yellow Coltsfoot showing, leafless as yet. Back to the boat for a sponge down and breakfast, perhaps in the café if it was a weekend, but today cooked in the neat little galley on board. Then off for the day’s odd jobs – perhaps a sticking door, a faulty lock or a shelf bracket coming away from the wall, a loose tile or two, or a blocked gutter; maybe tidying a garden. Sometimes, with nothing arranged, it might be maintenance of the boat; clearing the bilge, checking rigging and warps, the state of the battery (was the wind-powered generator keeping up or would I need to run the engine for an hour) the state of the anodes and the anti-fouling if the tide was out and so on.

What is it about a Monday? Even after all those years of irregular shifts and weekend working, Mondays were, well, Mondays. Today, no paying work to distract me; nothing (apart from the coltsfoot) of interest on my run. It was as much as I could do to get out of bed in the first place; grey, dull weather with a stingey “lazy” wind off the sea. The idea of getting my boat round to the scrubbing posts to scrub and anti-foul the bottom definitely did not attract. I was running in treacle with legs like rubber.

A bundle of rags at the foot of the dyke caught my attention; someone dumping rubbish again? Not like Felixstowe! But – hang on. That’s a person. Mind your own business, Dave. Pass on by. Leave him be. Oh, shit. Can’t do that. Best have a look.

It was a person; a young person, and there was a pulse, though the skin was pallid and icy to the touch. Shake the shoulder. “Come on, rise and shine! You can’t stay here.” It groaned and stirred only slightly – more of a shiver, really. I swallowed my repugnance – even in that cold air there was a definite aroma rising from the bundle – got a hand under and got him sitting, then hauled him to his feet. The legs buckled and he would have fallen if let go. I sighed and got him across my shoulders; climbing the dyke with great care to avoid slipping on the mud. My burden moved, and spoke.

“pu’ m’dow! I Wan’ walk!”

I wasn’t too unhappy to do so. It turned out that the object of my concern was unsteady, but able to walk with support. The activity was a good idea, anyway. By the time we’d made our way the mile or so back to the boat he was walking with some confidence. In the boat, with the heater going, an old sleeping-bag wrapped around the shoulders and a mug of hot soup in his hand, there were definite signs of improvement, a noticeable increase in the aroma, and...

“You’re a girl ... aren’t you?”

“Tha’s nice. Is it that hard to tell? M’ name’s Jenni”

“I hadn’t given it a thought. If I had, I might have tried to find somewhere else to take you. This isn’t the ideal place.”

“Seems ok to me. I thought I’d never be warm again!”

“I’m afraid I was more worried about my position than yours. My name’s Dave, by the way. For now, just get warm. March isn’t a good time to go sleeping rough on the saltings. I’m not sure there’s ever a good time for that...”

“You’re not kidding! Erm ... I could really do with somewhere to clean up...”

“I’ll put a heater in the fore cabin. Some hot water, soap and a towel; They’d be way too big, but some old things of mine?”

“Thanks! That’s really cool! But ... not to complain ... why?”

“I wish I could explain. I don’t really know, myself. Except, how well do you know your Bible?”

A very odd grimace flicked across her face and there was a very long pause, before she said, “pretty well, I think.”

“well,” I said, “There’s a bit where Jesus is talking about who gets into Heaven, and he said ‘I was hungry, and you fed me, I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink, I was in prison, and you visited me ... for as you did for the least of these, you did it for me.’ So, you see, I’m not always too sure about God, and heaven and stuff like that, but if I have a chance to help someone, I like to do it. I don’t always, though. Sometimes, I’m in a hurry, or I just don’t notice, or I’m thinking about something else and the chance passes by. But it’s a funny thing, you know, when I do, the day seems a bit brighter, things seem a bit easier. I just feel happier, that maybe there’s something, some meaning in life?”

“You mean, you do things because it makes you feel good?”

“sort of...” I paused, “In psychology, I think it was a chap called Skinner, said ‘behaviour that is rewarded tends to be repeated’ I get a kick, if you like, when someone smiles, when I can see that they’re happier than they were, or see the relief when a problem that seemed overwhelming, is solved, and I had a part of it.”

I left it there; and got up to boil water. I was going to need more water pretty soon ... I lit a small heater in a cabin I had hardly entered for months; at least there was no mould, but it did smell a bit musty. I found a jogging suit, long johns, t-shirt and a pullover, all clean if rather worn; a towel; and laid it all on the bunk. By that time, she’d finished the soup, so I directed her to the cabin, pointed out she could shoot the bolt on the door and told her I was off to fetch water.

As water ran into the barrel I noticed Charlie and called him over. I explained what had happened. “D’you reckon Donna could spare some old togs for the girl? They may not come back.”

“I reckon we’ll find something...”

Back at Eirene, she was still in the cabin, so I tapped on the door and said I was leaving jeans, t-shirt and underwear outside the door, then went back to the saloon and found a recording of “Rhapsody in blue”. I realised I was hungry as well and put on coffee and a pan full of bacon, sausage, hash browns and black pudding, adding mushrooms and eggs as she came back.

“That smells good.”

“It’s about ready; bread or toast?”

“Bread’s fine, thanks. This is fantastic...”

I prefer toast with my cholesterol, so put a couple of slices under the grill. I have yet to find a yacht grill that can cope with more than one slice at a time anyway and mine is no exception. It’s necessary to turn the slices side to side as well as over. But I like my bacon well done anyway. Soon enough we were tucking into the fry-up washed down with coffee. Real coffee with caffeine in it, made from ground beans.

“D’you live here?”

“Nowhere else!”.

“The boat sails, right?”

“She does. At least she does when there’s enough water to get her off the mud.”

“Wow...”

There was a long pause.

“I guess I’d better be off, then. Can I wash up, first?”

“I never turn down a volunteer for KP!”

She washed up while I checked around. Said good bye – didn’t want her old clothes; “bin ‘em” - and walked off towards Woodbridge.

Suddenly my comfortable home seemed very empty. I looked at her clothes. Actually, they weren’t too bad; just rather smelly. I put them to soak in a bucket of tepid water with some detergent – biological (I never have found out what makes a washing powder biological... )

A lapping sound of water round the hull told me the tide was making – Eirene would be afloat in an hour or so. I decided on the spot to make a move. Charlie was happy for me to use the scrubbing posts, so I laid out warps and as she lifted on the tide warped her out into deeper water and moved her round to the river, made fast to the scrubbing posts and bent on first the mainsail, then the furling staysail and the mizzen while I waited for the tide to go out again.

I felt her settle to the grid and pulled on thigh boots – She draws four foot six (shame on you – one point three six metres) so initially I used the tender to scrub along the water-line. That’s quite incredibly hard work. I was glad to be able to step over and (very carefully – I really didn’t to miss my footing and get boots full of turbid water) scrubbed off the slime and algae that had accumulated over the winter; surprisingly little, in fact. I suppose it’s cold and probably sitting in mud two thirds of the time inhibits growth. By the time the keel was out of the water I was applying anti-fouling, and before she was lifting off the grid I was topping off the diesel and running a hose to wash out the water tank and fill it up; in the dark. I looked at my watch – 21.30 – two hours to high water and I hadn’t stopped or eaten since breakfast!

I was coiling the hose when I heard my name called from the gloom. It was Jenni; wanting a bed for the night. I found Charlie in the Victoria. Had he got a spare bed for the night?

“Sorry, mate, Donna’s home with a couple of pals. Hardly room to swing a cat tonight. Why do you think I’m in here?”

“It wouldn’t be anything to do with the beer, then? I suppose it’ll have to be my fore-cabin. I could really do without this.”

Back at the water’s edge, I asked Jenni how old she was. Not that the answer would prove anything, of course; but she assured me she would be seventeen in May. “Well,” I said, “you can have the fore-cabin for the night. I explained earlier I’m uncomfortable about having a young woman here, in this boat like this. But I really don’t want you sleeping rough tonight.”

“Thanks ... I won’t get you in trouble. Promise.”

So, we paddled out, and I motored Eirene out to a swinging mooring, made cocoa and found her a sleeping bag. I moved into the aft cabin rather than sleep in the saloon. If I’d had a bit more notice, I might have warmed it up a bit...

In the morning, bright and early, I was jogging along the sea wall and back. Paddling out to Eirene I could smell frying bacon; and coffee. Jenni had got up and got breakfast on the go. I’d thought I’d been quiet ... Breakfast was good.

“This morning,” I began, “I’m going to sail up to Woodbridge. I expect to be there about high water, which is a bit after one o’clock. There, I’m going to do some shopping to stock the boat for a bit of a cruise. I’ve got some work lined up in Lowestoft, though I hadn’t arranged a set time. But it’ll be some time before I come back. It could be a month or two. I can put you ashore first, but I need to be on my way so I don’t run out of flood tide. I need to get to Woodbridge. Nearly won’t do.”

She actually looked crestfallen.

“Couldn’t I stay with you? I’ll wash up and cook! Wasn’t breakfast good?”

“It was very good. I’m not complaining, at all. But if you come, you’re stuck on board until we get to where we’re going. If I make a mistake and get us on the mud, we could be stuck for a tide; not very likely this time, as the tide will be making. And you’ll need to do as you’re told, immediately, even if you don’t want to and don’t understand why. Ask, by all means – the only stupid question is the one that isn’t asked. But if I’m busy, you may not get an immediate answer; shouldn’t be a problem today. Pleasant force 3 to 4 and fairly steady. O.K.?”