Chapter 1

Terry Knight entered the office with a degree of trepidation; not that he could think of anything he'd done wrong. He couldn't even think of anything he might be asked to do that he'd rather not. No it was just ... the 'Headmaster's Study' syndrome. Janice Trelawney sat behind her desk, though she stood as he entered and gestured to a chair slightly off centre in front of said desk. Sitting in a similar chair symmetrically placed was another woman; red haired, thirtyish, attractive ... Beth Hanson ... no, Robinson now, he ought to have remembered since he'd been at the wedding. She was smiling.

"Relax, Terry," Janice was also smiling, "this won't hurt me a bit."

It took a second or so for the little joke to penetrate; he smiled rather uncertainly.

"Beth?" Janice nodded at the other woman.

"Terry; I don't know if you'd heard I was leaving?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's kind of you, but I have a higher priority now," she rubbed her tummy. "I won't be going completely, but I won't be here every day, and I won't be sailing, possibly for several years. So. We – the charity, that is – are going to need another Mate for Emily Jane. I told Janice I thought you'd do very well. If you're interested, there'll be care and maintenance work through the winter and work in the office, if you're willing."

"Why ... yes, thank you!"

"There'd be a small allowance involved if you'd like to live on board through the winter. Rent free, of course."

He swallowed. "That ... sounds great!"

"One other thing ... not tied to the rest. We've had a request from the Ashcroft Centre. You may remember a little lad, Tom Carmichael?"

He nodded, remembering his first cruise on Emily Jane with Beth and Pete the skipper.

"Apparently Tom was rather taken with barge life."

Terry grinned. To say Tom was 'taken' with barges and sailing was rather like saying 'snow is cold'.

"Well," she went on, "He's got to do ... what is it, Janice? Six weeks?"

Janice nodded in confirmation.

"Six weeks work experience in the setting of his choice. Guess what his choice was?"

He shook his head – in disbelief, not dismissal. "Barges in general and Emily Jane in particular?"

"Got it in one. Now, this sort of thing is what the charity is about, in a way, though this particular request is a new one. Are you, as Mate, willing to take on a fourteen, almost fifteen year-old third hand? It'll be quite a responsibility."

"I suppose Pete'll be there to support me?"

"Ah ... now that's another thing. Pete's retiring this year, one reason we want someone to live on board and keep an eye on things through the winter. We've got a potential replacement, though. Do you know Marty Peters?"

"I've met him."

"He's facing the Board for his Master's ticket in January. If he doesn't get it – which I doubt – his wife, Jenni, will take up the slack. In fact, they'll probably job-share, with Jenni covering for Marty when he has to work. That'll all change next summer anyway."

"I've no problems with any of that. Can I think about it?"

"Certainly, though not too long. The Centre said that you could go and interview him if you like before you make up your mind."

That seemed like a good idea. Terry found himself a few days later in front of a modern building just outside Bury St. Edmunds, the words 'Ashcroft Centre' in foot-high letters over the entrance.

Inside, a young woman sitting behind a counter looked up as he entered.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so ... my name is Terry Knight. I'm expected."

"Ah..." she consulted the screen in front of her, "just a moment." She picked up a phone and dialled. "Is John there? Tell him Terry Knight is here to see Tom."

Terry recognised the man who appeared, holding his hand out; he extended his own and they shook.

"Come this way," the man said.

The interview did not go well. Tom's responses were, at best, monosyllabic, more usually shaking or nodding of the head or grimaces. At the end, Tom said the longest sentence he'd uttered; "you won't be wanting me, then," before leaving the room. Terry sat there in perplexity.

John came into the room. "Well?"

"I ought to say, 'no way, José'," Terry said, frowning. "I'd have to live and work alongside that kid for six weeks ... but..."

"There's something about him? We've tried everything and haven't made a dent in his armour. The whole unit, even most of the other kids, have tried and bounced. That trip on Emily Jane was the first time we've had any reaction or response from him at all. I certainly wouldn't blame you for turning him down, but I hope you'll give him a chance. I think ... I think he'll work hard. You may not penetrate his defences, but ... just to give him something to aim for..." John's voice trailed away.

Terry nodded. "I'll talk it over with my boss. The trouble is ... say we take him and have to ask him to leave after a few days ... that could do some pretty severe damage, yes?"

"Yes, you're right ... but you've got a job to do and other people to think about. Obviously, if you do accept him, we'd have to allow you the freedom to dismiss him."

"I'll get back to you, John. There'll be a letter formally offering or declining the work experience for Tom in the post in a few days."

Terry went about his duties. There was one more cruise, a long week-end, before they would 'lower the gear' – that is, literally, lower the mast to the deck and remove the main sail and top-sail, 'dress' them with the dull red preservative and put them away for the winter.

It was his first outing as Mate, and it went well enough. As soon as it was over, the very next day, it was 'all hands' to drop the top-mast, lower the main-mast, remove the sails and check the standing and running rigging. Overhauling the rigging and dressing the sails would be Terry's duty for the next few weeks, or longer. He was called to the office again and once more saw Janice and Beth.

"We've thought about what you've said. You think it'd be worthwhile to try?"

"Yes," he said, "I think it's very worthwhile. I'm just worried ... you know, that we may have to knock him back."

"I think that's a risk that has to be taken. He's not going to have much chance of a life if no-one's willing to take a chance on him."

"And I've had an idea," Beth interjected. "Would you be happier if, at least for the first, say, week, you had a woman to back you up? Like a third hand?"

"Is that possible?"

"I think so. I've had a word with a friend of mine, and if she can make arrangements for her children, she's willing to take a week, possibly a fortnight, out of her life, for this."

"Can I meet her?"

"I was coming to that. If you're free tomorrow night, you could come home with me, have supper with us and meet her. Bring an overnight bag, and I'll bring you back in the morning."

Beth was looking at him with a slight smile. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if her friend had a name, but decided she was being deliberately mysterious; he refused to rise to the bait.