Chapter 20

Despite her late night and growing baby bump, Eva was up well before us and sparkling with life. She'd obviously listened out for sounds of activity, as she had coffee freshly made and ladled out scrambled eggs onto toast as we sat at the table.

"Have a good time last night?" I asked, picking up my coffee.

Her smile broadened even more. "Mmmm."

Grace and I looked at each other. Grace had a little smile that told me she knew at least a little more than she'd told me last night, but probably wasn't going to say anything.

"That's good, then," I remarked, making a start on my eggs. Got to leave women their little mysteries.

"Sandwiches alright for lunch?" Eva asked, nonchalantly.

"Sure." Was that disappointment, that I didn't ask why?

"Jim asked if I'd like to help out in the office."

"Oh?"

"Just answering the 'phone, handing out brochures, that sort of thing."

"Sounds good."

"Mmmm. I'll take my sandwiches with me. Be back about five. Salad for tea?"

"Excellent. What time do you need to be there?"

"Oh, he said any time from nine o'clock."

I looked up at the kitchen clock, then at Grace, whose smile had also broadened. She nodded.

"Leave the washing-up, Eva," I said, "it'll only take a few minutes anyway. If you want to go now, by the time you're ready you won't be early."

"Thanks Ted!" She bounced the few feet across to me and kissed my cheek before doing the same for Grace and leaving the room.

Grace and I smiled at each other, suppressing laughter. Once Eva was upstairs, Grace giggled. "Looks as though we're on our own this morning. Whatever shall we do until that phone call?"

I frowned, or tried to. "We could sit in the garden and read," I suggested. "or go for a walk."

"I've got a better idea than either of those, " Grace said. "You could drag me off to somewhere convenient to have your wicked way with me..."

"Really, Missus Quinton," I said sternly, "how could I have any wicked way with you. Now we're married, it's all legal."

"We could pretend," she suggested.

"Come to think of it," I said, "we never have done any role-playing, have we? But how about we get the dice out? Remember that?"

"Oh, yes. I like that idea, Husband."

As it turned out, the 'phone call was an anti-climax. It was very brief and consisted of Grace giving the chap our address and making an appointment for him to come to see us. Being at a loose end, so to speak, we took a walk down to the prom after lunch. As sometimes happens, there was a mist rolling in from the river, so there wasn't much to see and it was chilly. In fact, it got so it wasn't that easy to see the path. We stopped off at the Heritage Sailing office, where Eva was comfortably ensconced behind the counter and Jim working away at the computer. I kept telling him he needed a professional web-site developer. He looked up and, seeing us, found a chair for Grace. For Grace, note, not me.

We didn't stay long as the mist – fog really – caused several people to come in out of the chill to enquire about cruises and we escaped before I could get drawn in. We visited Serendipity. Grace stroked the wheel.

"I miss her," she said.

"No reason we couldn't take her out," I said, "No night sailing, but we could take a run up to Walton Backwaters, the Stour, Orwell or Deben. Visit Woodbridge."

"Might be nice," she said thoughtfully. "What about Eva?"

"I don't think she'd want to come, do you? We should ask, I suppose, but between Dulcie and the church, and now Jim and his office, I don't think she'd be unhappy to have the house to herself."

Grace nodded thoughtfully, then grinned. "I got my adventure, didn't I? Thanks to you. And now, perhaps I can go on having little adventures. Let's do it!"

It had to wait until we'd seen that lawyer. Now that was interesting.

"Miss ... er Missus..."

"It's Missus Quinton, but I'm happy to be called Grace. Won't you come in?"

He was tall and dignified, will a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, wire-rimmed spectacles, a 'legal' dark suit.

"Thank you. I am James Fuller."

Grace ushered him into the lounge and I went to make tea and coffee, which I put on a tray with hot and cold milk, sugar and biscuits. When I took the tray in to them, Grace said;

"I'd like my husband to stay."

"Certainly, if that's your wish. But could I see your birth-certificate and marriage lines?"

Grace produced them, and he went on, "I'd appreciate a copy of the marriage certificate..."

"I can do that, if you'll give me a minute to fire up the computer," I put in.

"Thank you. That would be helpful. I can certify it as a true copy for our records."

When I returned, he continued, "Mister Quinton ... Captain Quinton?"

I smiled, "Either would do, but Ted, or Skipper, is preferred."

"Very well, then. I understand you have no permanent employment?"

"That's so. Some years ago, my parents died, leaving me sufficient funds to leave my career as a computer technician and set up as a freelance yacht-master. I bought Serendipity, an auxiliary sailing ketch, which is large enough to live aboard and with fees earned as a skipper, I've been well ahead of my expenses. I was going to go back to my job with computers to ensure an adequate income when Grace agreed to marry me, but she insisted that her income was sufficient with mine to maintain this house and our family."

"I see. We were not informed of this. Might I ask some more ... personal questions? I do apologise, but I assure you, it is necessary."

"What is this about?" Grace broke in. I could see her temper was rising.

"Miss ... Missus Quinton, as I told you, I, with others, administer the trust-fund that was set up for you by your maternal grandparents before they died. They were very careful in setting it up. Your paternal grandparents then contributed to it ... substantially. The suggestion has been made, I'm sorry to say, that Captain Quinton married you in order to obtain access to your money."

At that point my temper was rising ... rapidly ... but Grace defused that by laughing ... gaily.

"Mister Fuller. Ted had no idea who I was when I chartered Serendipity. He knew I had some money, certainly, the sort of savings a careful nurse might accumulate by living at home and spending very little. Sufficient to pay to charter a yacht for up to six months before going back to live at home to look after my baby."

"You're pregnant? Captain Quinton?"

Grace laid a hand on my arm and I swallowed what I was going to say.

"The baby is not Ted's, but he's promised he will be a father to him, or her."

"I see there is a great deal more going on here than I was aware of ... I was told you turned down an offer of marriage by a very suitable man, a doctor, in order to marry your Captain."

"That offer was made by the man who drugged me in order to take my virginity, then dumped me. When informed I was pregnant..." she stopped and visibly worked on containing her anger. "In short, the only reason he was willing to marry me was he found out about my family and my money. He is currently being investigated for misappropriating drugs from the hospital and inappropriate sexual behaviour."

I saw something 'click' behind the man's eyes. "Ah ... yes. I see. I do apologise, most sincerely. We were misled and misinformed. Well..." he frowned. "I will need to return to the office and meet with the other trustees. We will have to decide on a course of action ... I now have no doubts, personally ... Captain Quinton, I'm sorry to ask this, but is there someone we could contact to confirm your employability? Your work record? It's a formality as far as I am concerned, but necessary."

I shrugged and went to fetch a file, from which I extracted a testimonial from Howard Whitchurch, the manager of the department I had worked in, and a copy of the same.

"He may not still be at the place, but he'll give me a good reference," I said.

"You don't mind If I ring him?"

"Not at all."

He turned to Grace. "Miss ... Missus... Grace, first of all, you need have no worries about the continuation of your... allowance ... from the trust. All being well, you will have access to the capital, too, but it may take a few weeks. I..." he paused, frowning, "I think I now know why your grandparents set the trust up the way they did."

He stood. "I have taken up enough of your time. May I say ... it has been a pleasure to meet you, Grace ... and you, Ted. I apologise again for the tone of my questioning."

"Oh," said Grace, dimpling, "you are forgiven." She frowned then and added, "I think I know what has been going on, and it is not your fault."

"Mr. Fuller," I said, "Grace and I may well be away from time to time." I extracted a card from my wallet and wrote Grace's mobile number on the back and handed it to him. "Here are contact details if we're not at home."

He inclined his head. "I thank you. Will you be going far?"

"Not far," I said, "no night sailing ... no chances with the baby."