Chapter 27
Henry held out his hand for me to balance on while I hopped out of the boat and joined Lucy on the jetty. ‘Let me just drop the life jackets back and then we’ll go to the Harbour Bar.’
We followed him up the steps and around into the boatyard, where the large shuttered front was closed. He opened up a door within it and we stepped inside, the light flickering on.
Lucy looked around. ‘Haven’t been here for ages,’ she said, going over to look at the two varnished boats in the centre. ‘They’re looking lovely. All ready for this Saturday. Only three days to the regatta.’
‘That’s right,’ said Henry, hanging our life jackets on two hooks beside the door. ‘They’re being picked up tomorrow.’
Lucy went over to the corner. ‘When are you going to put this in the water?’ She patted the wooden side of the boat which had Rosie painted on the front. ‘She looks good. Have you revarnished her?’
Henry nodded. ‘I tried her out a month ago and she sails like a dream. She just needed a bit of filling and an extra coat of varnish. But it’s like she’s alive, she knows what you want from her.’ He turned to me. ‘It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?’
But I shook my head. It didn’t seem crazy at all; when you were passionate about something, the world was different.
Patch suddenly barked and sniffed the air.
‘What’s that, Patch?’ said Henry. ‘Can you smell the sausages? Shall we go and get some dinner?’
The three of us walked down to the Harbour Bar, where people were sitting on low benches, enjoying the evening sunshine. There must have been about sixty or so people at the quayside, reggae music in the air, along with smoke coiling from a large barbecue.
Eddie and Matty were holding pints and standing at the edge of the dock. ‘Evening,’ said Eddie. ‘You’ve been out so?’
Henry nodded. ‘Kerry-Anne and I were out on Brendan and Lucy was out on Maeve.’
‘Good,’ said Eddie, approvingly. ‘Glad to hear it.’ He smiled at Lucy. ‘You’ll be back where you started before you know it.’
‘Hopefully.’
‘Oh, and meet Sandycove’s oldest and newest knitter,’ Eddie went on. ‘Matty’s learning how to wield the old needles.’
Matty turned briefly, to show a pair of knitting needles which were thrust into the back pocket of his shorts.
‘Just picked these beauties up,’ he said.
‘Made from ash. Diana was showing me how to knit on these old clattery metal things and then I discovered you could buy them carved from proper Irish wood. Like a hurley, these are. But instead of thwacking a ball, it’s a jumper I’ll be making. ’
‘But you’re not making a jumper yet, are ye?’ asked Eddie.
‘Socks?’ suggested Lucy. ‘Or one sock. That would be easier.’
‘I’m still on exceedingly small squares,’ admitted Matty.
‘Diana won’t let me progress. Just knit-knit-knit.
Turn around and knit-knit-knit. She’s enticing me with something called pearl next but says I’m not ready to graduate.
’ He smiled at me, as though delighted with himself and delighted with life, the sun on his face, a pint in his hand and learning a new skill.
‘Have you had food yet, Kerry-Anne? They do a fine sausage here. Proper pork, spices, the lot. You know, Kerry-Anne, there is nothing better than a sausage and a good drink with people you’re fond of. ’
‘Matty is a simple man,’ said Eddie, laughing.
‘I think I agree with Matty,’ I said.
‘Thank you, Kerry-Anne,’ said Matty.
Henry turned to me. ‘What’ll you have, Kerry-Anne? Your usual?’
Lucy laughed. ‘You already know her drink of choice?’
He seemed flushed from the sun. ‘I might do. Californian Zinfandel.’
‘That sounds a bit grand for the Harbour Bar,’ said Eddie. And then, as Henry went to the bar, Eddie nodded at me and Lucy. ‘He’s a good lad. I just hope he doesn’t find the boatyard too much. It’s been a struggle. What with the Richmonds and their boatyard.’
Lucy nodded. ‘Some people just want to make life difficult for everyone.’
‘Those Richmonds are like the super-trawlers who vacuum up every sprat and small fry on the ocean bed, not caring about the future or the community.’ Eddie shook his head. ‘It’s just about being the big boss, the big man, you know?’
‘You’re right there, Edward,’ said Matty.
‘I know I am, Matthew,’ said Eddie. ‘They’re out to close us down. They tripled the size of their boat shed, their business is all the cruiser yachts. There used to be eight or nine small boatyards around Sandycove. But they’ve all closed, one by one.’
‘Henry’s idea about specialising in wooden boats is a good one,’ said Matty. ‘You need to have a USP, don’t you?’
‘Do you know that phrase, a rising tide lifts all boats?’ Eddie went on.
‘It’s about community. It’s about helping each other because it’s for the common good.
If ye are all doing well, then everyone is doing well.
See what I mean? A rising tide lifts all boats.
Community is the tide and that’s what Sandycove and all the small towns and villages across the country are doing.
But it only takes one fat cat to spoil it, one person with the arrogance to think that they don’t need others.
Who wants to live in a world like that?’
‘I don’t,’ I assured him, and he smiled.
‘No one in their right mind wants that. It’s just men like the Richmonds who don’t give a monkey’s about community.
We all went to school with Ollie Richmond.
He’d cry if a ball went near him or would tell on you if you did anything wrong.
Anyway, then his parents sent him to a posh school over in Blackrock and he stayed away from us. Well… most of us.’
Henry returned carrying a tray of drinks and began handing them all out. ‘No Californian Zinfandel, unfortunately. But they have a Sandycove Sling. Thought you might like to try something local. It’s Sandycove gin and local elderflower cordial.’
I sipped the cocktail and it was delicious, sweet and unctuous, like a honeyed nectar. ‘Much better than Californian Zinfandel. Thank you.’
Henry looked pleased. ‘Wouldn’t want to have another Guinness situation,’ he said. ‘Crisis averted.’
Eddie perked up. ‘Did someone mention a Guinness crisis? Don’t tell me there’s a supply issue?’
Henry shook his head. ‘It’s an acquired taste.’ He winked at me.
‘It is indeed,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s acquiring the taste which is the best part.’
‘And it’s all downhill from there, what?’ Matty slapped Eddie on the back, making him splutter.
‘So, what have you all been talking about?’ Henry asked us. ‘You all looked very serious.’
‘Ah, nothing at all,’ said Eddie. ‘Just boring everyone with my stories.’
‘Not boring at all,’ I said. ‘Fascinating.’
Eddie grinned at me. ‘Never been called that before. I like Kerry-Anne very much. A woman of discernment.’ He and Matty went to join some other friends and Henry, Lucy and I sat on one of the picnic tables at the edge of the water.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked Henry, who was feeding Patch the rest of his sausage sandwich.
‘Probably about the regatta,’ he said. ‘They are still furious about the proposed change of the name of the winner’s cup from the Lolly DeCourcey to the Oliver Richmond.’
‘They told me about it at the knitting circle,’ I said. ‘How likely is it that it will be changed?’
‘Very,’ said Lucy. ‘I think Matty is the only one on the committee holding firm.’
‘And so Charlie might win the cup, the one named after his grandfather?’
‘It’s very unlikely,’ said Henry. ‘He’s not a very good sailor.
His father sent him for lessons when he was a teenager and he kept sailing in the wrong direction and couldn’t get his head around tacking and wind direction.
But I think he really wants to win this year.
Family honour is at stake. He’s got the best boat around, but he’s got no clue how to sail. ’
‘All the gear and no idea,’ I said. ‘I knew a few like that.’
‘The only award he’s going to win is the Most Egregious Display of Nepotism award,’ Lucy said.
‘Either that or he tries to kill me again. Overconfidence and incompetence is a very dangerous combination.’ She smiled and stood up.
‘I’m going to head home. Early night. Still feel a bit shaky.
’ She smiled at me. ‘Are you sure you don’t feel kidnapped by us all? Just say if you’re fed up of us.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not fed up of you. I’m really enjoying myself. I feel like I am on holiday.’
She nodded, satisfied. ‘I’m so pleased. So, see you in the morning? Another swim?’
‘I would love to.’ Sea swimming was so much better than 5 a.m. Pilates classes with techno music and instructors shouting at you to feel the burn and if it isn’t hurting, it isn’t working.
This was all so much nicer. But then I saw William Richmond, Charlie’s father, the collar of his pink Ralph Lauren polo top up, his hair speckled with silver, tanned and confident.
He looked like he was on a mission, his mouth held tight, his eyes glittering, and he was striding straight for Matty and Eddie.