Chapter Thirty
Patrick peered into the saloon below. ‘This is pretty swanky. Isn’t it?’
‘Shit!’ said Darla, her thoughts in a scramble at the unexpected sight of him.
‘You’re trespassing,’ said Ros with authority.
‘This yours, is it?’ he asked.
‘No, but—’
‘No harm in me having a look around then,’ he said, coming down the steps. He sucked in air and it whistled through his teeth. ‘This is very nice. We’ll probably be able to buy something like this when—’
Ros began laughing. Patrick glared at her. ‘Who are you?’
‘This is my friend, Ros,’ said Darla, moving to stand closer to Ros. ‘And we’d both like you to leave.’
Patrick sat down and seemed to relish their astonished faces. ‘I wish I could but you see, I really need that money. Sort of a life-or-death thing.’
‘Yours I hope,’ said Ros.
‘Yeah, it is actually. Have you got any cash?’ He looked her up and down in her charity outfit. ‘Actually, you’re all right.’ He turned his attention back to Darla. ‘Babe, you don’t need to do anything. All I need is the bank card.’
‘There’s nothing in the joint account anyway.’
‘But there’s the overdraft.’
‘No, there’s not. I’ve had them reduce it each time I’ve paid money in, so I wasn’t tempted to overspend again.’ And in case Patrick came back and tried to do exactly what he was doing now.
‘You stupid cow, why did you do that?’ he snapped.
‘So you couldn’t turn up and do it all over again. You wanker,’ she added to even up the insults. Darla noticed Ros was texting so leaned slightly in front of her to block Patrick’s view.
Patrick no longer looked relaxed. He stood up and tried to pace but in the small space it was quite tricky and he had to keep turning abruptly every couple of steps.
‘There would be more space for you to walk around looking agitated up on the quay,’ said Ros.
Patrick rubbed his forehead. ‘Where’s your car?’ he asked Darla.
She shrugged. ‘I had to sell everything. Including my car,’ she lied.
‘Shitting hell.’ He patted his hands on his head, making Ros step back a fraction. ‘Come on, think,’ he said. He spun around to stare at Darla and Ros. ‘Where can I get my hands on money quickly?’
‘No idea,’ said Darla.
Ros was pouting.
‘What?’ said Patrick. ‘Have you got a suggestion?’
Ros very slowly shook her head. ‘No.’
Patrick paused and then he started to laugh. He splayed out his arms and banged his knuckle on the mast post in the centre of the saloon. ‘Shit, that hurt. How much is this worth? This boat? What’s it worth?’
‘No clue,’ said Darla. ‘Oh no, Patrick,’ she added as realisation dawned on her. ‘This is my job. I’ll get the sack.’ She plonked herself down on the luxury leather seating. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll not let you steal this.’
‘You don’t have to go anywhere. Just give me the keys.’
‘No way.’
Patrick walked towards her with his palm outstretched. But something caught his eye and he reversed back. ‘What’s this then?’ he asked, picking up the boat keys. ‘Where do you start this baby up?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I spotted two big steering wheels up top, so probably up there,’ he said, looking pleased with himself.
‘You need to leave now before we start screaming and people come running,’ said Darla.
‘There wasn’t a soul about so scream away, and I’ll have your mobiles please.’
‘No,’ said Ros.
‘Give me your bloody phones,’ he snapped and Darla jumped. She’d not seen him like this before. He was an idiot for sure, but he wasn’t a nasty bastard, or at least that was what she’d thought. But then if he really was in danger, that sort of pressure did strange things to people.
‘Here,’ she said, taking Ros’s phone and handing both phones to him. ‘There’s no need to get nasty.’
‘You’re right. Just do what I say and it’ll all be good. Up on deck please,’ he said, ushering them up the steps.
‘Now where is the ignition?’ he said, partly to himself as he looked about. He found where the key went and was gleeful when the boat’s engine started.
‘What the hell does he think he’s doing?’ Darla whis-pered. She was furious.
‘He’s stealing the yacht,’ said Ros. ‘With us on it,’ she added.
‘Not on my watch,’ said Darla, going after Patrick. She found him frantically trying to release the mooring ropes.
‘Give us a hand will you?’ he asked, sweat gleaming on his brow.
‘Patrick, this is madness. I’m not going to help you steal the boat. You need to calm down and think straight.’
‘Darla, this is a genius idea. One of my better ones. I need money and I need to get away. This is two birds in one bush.’
Ros called from the back of the boat. ‘It’s either two birds with one stone or a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.’
‘What the hell is she on?’ asked Patrick, finally tugging the line free and throwing it onto the deck.
‘Ros likes things to be right. And it’s a good trait,’ she said, following him around the yacht. ‘Patrick, stealing a boat is a very bad idea. Please stop.’
‘I can’t!’ His voice was almost a shout as he threw his arms up in exasperation. ‘I owe money to lots of people and now it turns out some of them are the wrong sorts of people.’ He scratched his head. ‘I don’t want to get you and your weird mate into trouble so why don’t you get off and say I overpowered you both?’ He grinned at her like it was the best idea ever.
‘That makes us complicit!’ yelled Ros.
‘Fine,’ snapped Patrick. ‘Do what you like. I’m taking it anyway.’ He undid the last line and the vessel was free. He went to the back of the boat where there were two large wheels. ‘Which one do I use?’ he asked Darla.
‘You really are the worst pirate ever,’ she said.
‘Which one?’ he shouted at her.
‘I don’t know!’ she shouted back. ‘I clean the bloody thing. I don’t sail about on it sipping cocktails. That’s someone else’s life.’
Patrick took hold of her by both arms. ‘But it could be our life. We could run away together. Be like the Bonnie and Clyde of the seas.’
‘They were shot dead by the police,’ said Ros.
‘She is pissing me right off,’ said Patrick. He took a breath and turned back to Darla. ‘What do you say?’
‘Stop this now.’ She stared him down. She wasn’t afraid and she wanted him to end the madness for his own sake as much as the bother it was going to get her into.
‘Or what? There is literally nothing you can do.’ Patrick stood at one of the wheels, and put his hand on the throttle. The motor upped its purring.
Darla was starting to panic. There was still nobody about. She decided to yell anyway. ‘Help! Help!’
‘Seriously?’ Patrick shook his head at her and began to gently steer the boat away from its mooring. ‘This is easy,’ he said, his tongue sticking out slightly like it always did when he was concentrating. The yacht was inching backwards so he started to turn the wheel. It was a tight berth with an equally big yacht moored alongside. His inexperience quickly became apparent as a harsh scraping sound indicated something was wrong. ‘What the hell?’
‘Apparently it’s not that easy,’ said Ros, pointing to their anchor now caught on the boat next to them, which was making the rest of the boat turn into the pontoon and wedging them fast.
‘Shit!’ Patrick was getting cross. ‘What do I do?’ he yelled.
‘I know but I’m not telling you,’ said Ros, standing up to inspect the yacht’s position.
‘I can’t believe this,’ said Patrick, abandoning the wheel and going over to see what Ros was looking at. ‘You’re no help!’
‘Thank you,’ said Ros, blocking Patrick’s way.
‘Hey!’ came a yell from the docks.
Darla spun around to see Cameron racing along the quay on his bike. She frantically waved back. ‘Get help! He’s nicking the yacht!’ Cameron leapt from his bike, ran along the pontoon and jumped towards the side of the boat and grabbed hold of the guardrail wire, making the whole vessel rock. He hung there for a moment, looking at Darla. ‘Not the best rescue,’ she said.
‘Thanks. You could give me a hand,’ he said, clinging on the side of the boat.
‘Who the hell is this joker?’ said Patrick, making a move towards Cameron. Ros stepped in front of Patrick to block him and give Cameron a chance to climb safely on board.
Patrick pushed Ros firmly out of the way, making her topple over the back of the cockpit seat and disappear from view, landing with a thud on the deck. ‘Whoops, sorry!’ he called after her. As he turned around he walked straight into Cameron’s fist and went down like an anchor.
‘Ow, shit, that hurt,’ said Cameron, shaking his hand and stepping over Patrick to get a look at where Ros had fallen. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, looking shocked. Cameron handed Darla his phone. ‘Call an ambulance,’ he said before jumping over the seats to help Ros. Darla peered around him. Ros was lying on the deck as motionless as Patrick, but there was a pool of blood around her head. Darla gasped. The boat started to swim as her stomach churned at the sight of the blood.
‘Stop! Police!’ yelled someone, as a policeman pointed a taser at Cameron and Darla passed out.