Chapter 1

On a pleasantly sunny day in March, Ted Quinton stood on the quay in front of the Queen's Head pub in Maldon, looking down at his yacht, Serendipity. On his right, Erica, two and a half years old, with fiery red hair and vivid green eyes, tugged on his hand. On his left, Grace Quinton stood close, with her hand on the buggy containing their sleeping son, Peter. Both adults thought the boat wore an air of melancholy as she sat in her mud berth.

Grace set the brakes on the buggy and rested a hand on her husband's arm. "I hate to see her stuck here like this."

"So do I," her husband agreed.

"Daddy," chipped in the little girl, "can we go on board?"

"Sure, Baby."

"I'm not a baby, Daddy."

"No, you're a big girl, but you'll always be my baby." He placed Erica's hand in his wife's, stepped carefully across the gap to the stern of the boat and fetched a thick plank from its resting place on the coach-roof to bridge the gap. The little girl stepped gingerly onto the plank and took the hand her father stretched out to her then walked carefully across. He helped her step down into the cockpit and crossed to collect Peter, who was sound asleep in the buggy. He picked up the buggy, baby and all, and carried it across, following his slim wife.

Grace Quinton, with the assurance of much experience, opened the hatch, climbed down into the cabin and turned to help her daughter. They left the buggy in the cockpit, lowered the seat cushions that were propped up to air, and sat in the saloon while the little girl trotted off to explore. Grace snuggled into her husband's side, his arm enfolding her, and sighed her contentment.

"I do love this boat," she murmured. Then after a short pause, "But I feel bad about leaving her here, unoccupied, unused. I mean, she's part of the family and we're ignoring her."

"I know. But it doesn't make sense to use Serendipity for a family holiday when we've got SB Grace with showers and a proper galley, and room for the kids to move around. Tell you what, I'll move her round to the boat yard, have her hoisted out, scrubbed and anti-fouled ... generally pampered. Woodwork cleaned off and re-varnished, that sort of thing."

(Thames Spritsail Barges are designated 'SB' for 'Sailing Barge', as a Motor Vessel is designated 'MV' and so on.)

"That's a start. But even if we were to take Erica and Peter sailing in Serendipity, she still won't be getting much attention, will she?"

"What are you saying, Sweetheart?"

"I'm saying we ought to be thinking of selling or leasing her."

He was silent for a long time; in fact until they were disturbed by Peter's waking whines from the buggy in the cockpit. Erica was in the smaller of the two cabins, curled up under a duvet and pretending to be asleep.

They made their way along the quay. Grace was still pushing the buggy, but Peter was being carried by his father in the crook of his left arm while Erica clung to his right hand.

Much later, Grace was snuggled against her husband, relaxed in the afterglow.

"You're right, Darling," he said.

"Hmm?"

"Serendipity. We can't hang on to her out of sentimentality. We can at least charter her very selectively, and if the right offer comes along, let her go. Hell, I think I might be willing to give her to the right person."

Pippa Henderson was intelligent and had dark hair, but her intelligence was not apparent on the surface. Her hair was dark, but straight; it was barely shoulder-length because it was less trouble that way and the total lack of styling meant that it had a most unflattering cut. She was not actually obese, but she was a little overweight, her skin pasty and pale with constantly incipient acne. She hated exercise and thought sport boring; she had little interest in popular music and disdained to try to fit in with her more socially involved peers. She was on the Pill, only to regulate painful, erratic periods, as at almost seventeen, she'd never had a date or even been asked for one. Her only joys were music – a wide range of what she thought of as 'proper' music from jazz through classical and even some rock music – and reading. She read voraciously: history, adventure, science-fiction ... and romance ... even Mills and Boon, though she preferred Jane Austen.

Her mother despaired of her, while her father just accepted that was the way she was and loved her anyway. In February, a few months before her birthday, he asked her to come to his study. "Your mother and I have been thinking about your birthday. We can't think of anything interesting to give you and we'd like to make it something special. Do you have any ideas?"

Standing in front of him, she thought for a moment. "Can I sit on your lap?"

Surprised, as she hadn't done that for years, he just said, "Of course."

"I know I'm heavy..."

"You'll never be too heavy to sit on my lap."

She sat on him and snuggled into his embrace, but didn't say anything for some time. It was only when he felt dampness on his neck he realised she was crying silently. His arms tightened around her and he continued to hold her. About that time his wife appeared at the door to tell them dinner was ready, but he caught her eyes and shook his head slightly. She nodded, turned and left.

"What is it, Baby?" he asked, gently.

"I ... I want ... I want to do some sailing. Like the Swallows and Amazons..."

"Okay. That's no problem ... we'll get you signed up for a course at a sailing school."

"I ... don't think I can do that. I'd be scared to be mixed in with lots of other people. And ... I want to do some proper sailing, not just go up and down a river, learning what to do. What I'd really like..."

"Go on, Baby..."

"What I'd really like to do is have a sort of sailing holiday. With someone who knows what they're doing. Without a lot of other people."

Her father thought about that. Several things went through his head; that such a thing would probably be expensive, but that Pippa had never wanted a lot of money spent on her and perhaps, just maybe, such a thing would draw her out of her social isolation, give her some confidence ... something to think about outside of her books.

"I don't think your mother would care to do something like that," he said eventually, thinking out loud. "I'll talk to her and make some enquiries."

"Thank you, Daddy!"

Conrad Henderson's enquiries led him to Dennis Thornton, whom he had got to know some years previously at a conference; he thought he remembered him saying something about a sailing holiday ... Dennis had told with a rueful smile that it was the last straw for his marriage, but that his daughter loved it and was now sailing at every opportunity. Conrad explained what Pippa had asked for.

"Heritage Sailing Holidays," Dennis told him. "I can recommend Ted Quinton. He had a bit of a reputation as a lady's man, but I found him very professional and competent. He has a forty-foot Bermudan ketch. A bit slow, but quite comfortable. He looked after us quite well. Cherry got very friendly with his girlfriend, Linnet. I gather he's married since."

It was easy enough to find the web-site and get the phone number.

Jim Preston frowned as he talked to Pippa's father on the phone. "I can ask for you, Mr. Henderson, but I don't think Ted will take it on. He's not taken any charters in Serendipity since he was married. The boat's out of the water just now, too. How many in the party?"

"Just my daughter – a seventeenth birthday present. I may be able to get away for a few days, perhaps a weekend, but It's for Pippa."

"Oh ... I see. Does she have any sailing experience?"

"None at all. She's always been fascinated by the Arthur Ransome books, she's ... well, a good student ... and she's been studying sailing theory."

"She might do better aboard one of the school boats..."

"She doesn't like a lot of people around; she's very shy."

"Ah. She'd probably be better with a woman skipper, then ... or a couple, perhaps. I'll see what I can come up with for her."

"Thank you."

When he'd hung up, Jim turned to his wife. Eva ... Evania, whom he'd fallen for almost the moment he saw her, had come from Ireland with Ted and Grace almost three years before. It took some time before he'd asked her to marry him as at the time she'd been pregnant and about to become a single mother ... but love triumphed and they had been very happy since.

"Evvie, Sweetheart, if Grace or Ted come in when I'm not here, ask if Ted could come in to see me, will you?"

"To be sure, Lover."

It was several days later that Grace called in to the office.

"Hello, Grace! Lovely to see you! Erica, sweetie. And Peter's asleep?"

"Yes, I thought I'd pop in to waste your time if you didn't have any customers in, Evvie."

"You never waste my time, Grace. You know I'll always be grateful to you."

The slim, fair-haired woman ducked and shook her head. "Don't make so much of it, Evvie. Edward in play-school?"

"Yes. Ted around?"

"In London today."

"Jim wants to talk to him soon, if possible."

"I'll tell him to drop by; tomorrow, perhaps. So ... how's tricks?"

"Business is good ... marriage is great ... thank you, Grace ... and ... can you keep a secret?"

"As long as nothing criminal is involved!"

"I haven't said anything to Jim yet, because I don't want to get his hopes up, but I think Edward might be going to have a little sister-or-brother."

"Oh, Eva! That's wonderful. He'll be so pleased. When will you tell him?"

"When I've done a test. I think I am, because I'm three days late and the only time I've ever been late was when I was pregnant with Edward. I wanted to tell you so I could ask you to get me a kit from the chemist. I don't want to explain a trip to the chemist to Jim until I can tell him good news..."

Chapter 2 »