Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
MARK
‘You think it was kids?’
Mark scratched his head as he studied his boat.
It looked like he had suffered the least, a green streak of paint along the hull of the boat just missing the name, probably the tail end of what looked like a tin of paint being thrown along a row of vessels.
The poor bloke three boats along had copped most of it.
‘I’d say so. Wanton vandalism. Either that or someone has a grudge against the club, but why they would target individual boats is beyond me,’ said the caretaker. ‘I would have thought the clubhouse would be more of a target, if that was the case.’
‘Maybe it’s someone who was refused a membership,’ suggested Mark.
‘That rarely happens.’ The caretaker shook his head. ‘Probably just kids with nothing better to do,’ he decided.
Mark set about removing the paint, along with the other boat owners, who were furious. One couple were in tears, the wife asking why you could not have anything these days and it was probably just an act of jealousy.
The security cameras near the entrance would be checked, but there wasn’t much chance of catching anyone, especially if it was teenagers who all seemed to dress the same and would probably have their faces covered.
Two hours later, having successfully removed the paint from his boat, and given another bloke a hand with his, he was in the clubhouse enjoying a drink, the vandalism the topic of conversation.
‘Maybe we ought to have a couple more CCTV cameras near the boats, and not just at the entrance,’ suggested one of the boat owners, and Mark reminded him that such things would increase the annual fees for the boat owners.
‘Well, we need something,’ the man grumbled, although the cost of a twenty-four-hour security guard would also impact on the site fees.
‘It’s not my day, second bit of bad news this week. I hope nothing else happens, as they do say things come in threes,’ said the guy called Ken, a local business owner. He might consider footing the cost of extra security cameras himself, if it meant the boats stayed intact.
‘What was the second thing?’ asked Mark.
‘My bloody accountant has been fiddling the books,’ Ken, owner of a string of bathroom showrooms and a successful warehouse, told him. ‘He never bloody passed any money my way, and I had nothing to do with it,’ he quickly added.
‘No, I can’t imagine you would,’ said Mark. Despite being rich and successful, Ken Watson was the nicest, straight down the middle guy you could wish to meet.
‘He’s been arrested. I’m not sure I trust anyone in that building now.’ He shook his head.
‘So, you need an accountant, then?’ asked Mark, the cogs in his brain working.
‘Pretty much as soon as possible, yes. Why do you ask?’
Mark recalled his discussions with Declan and how he dreamt of setting himself up.
‘Let me just have a chat with someone,’ said Mark. ‘I know an accountant who works for the council. Ambitious, and a cracking young man who is looking to go self-employed.’
‘Interesting,’ said Ken, stroking his chin. ‘Okay, let me know what he says, and I will set up a meeting.’
Mark had enjoyed a second pint, glad that he had walked down to the marina, especially as it was such a pleasant day.
He wondered what on earth he would do with his days if he wasn’t a member of the club.
No doubt he would waste his days away, watching too much television or going to the pub.
But then, he did enjoy the company of Alice, who was quickly becoming the confidante he never knew he needed.
Some might say he viewed her as the mother he never really had, but it was more than that. She was a friend. She had a gift of being someone you could talk to about anything, and you would always head home feeling so much better about life. Not many people could do that.
He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her around anymore. But there were some things that even the wonderful Alice had no control over.