Free Sea Change by Francis Rowan

making the total price just under
what John had expected to pay for one of the books on its own.
    On his way back
to the cottage he thought he heard the scuffle of paws on the road,
and he turned around, but did not see anything there. Not that
special then, he thought to himself. Perhaps I've lost my gift.
When he got back to the cottage, he found a note on the doormat
addressed to "That Townie". Already smiling he opened it up and
found a note from Simon, scrawled in pencil.
    "Half eight
tomorrow. Boat trip out with Uncle Davey. Bring a clothes peg for
your nose (fish stink) and a carrier bag to throw up in if he lets
Sal steer. Will knock for you if you haven't fallen down any holes
by then. Si.”
    John had a
bath, and then foraged in the fridge and put together spaghetti
bolognaise as a surprise for when Laura got in from closing the
shop. When she did, she first sniffed the air appreciatively and
said, "Wonderful, I could eat a scabby horse," and then she said,
"What are you grinning so widely for then?" and John just shrugged,
and said, "I'm happy," and he meant it.
     
     

Chapter
Eight
     
    John hit the
button as soon as the alarm went off, and crept out of his bedroom
and down the stairs, clothes and trainers clutched in his hand. He
got dressed in the front room, and made himself a slice of toast
and a cup of tea. He ate the toast looking out of the cottage
window, keeping an eye out for Simon, not wanting him the doorbell
to wake Laura up early. She had told him that she wouldn't be back
until late that evening; she had promised a friend in the next
village that she would baby sit, so the friend and her husband
could go out for an anniversary meal. John had told her that he was
a big boy now, and he would look after himself, and probably be in
bed by the time she got back.
    The sky was
blue in that way that said that it was going to stay blue the whole
day, and John paced up and down by the window. Finally he saw Simon
ambling down the street, as if he were in no hurry to get anywhere,
and John had dumped his cup in the sink and was out of the door
before Simon got two steps closer to the house.
    "You're keen.
Mind, Sal's down there already, she's getting the boat all set.
Loves messing round with it, she's desperate to learn to do it all
herself. I've had a go, mind. It's all right, nothing special. Not
like driving a car, that's what I can't wait to do. You ever driven
a car?"
    "Nah." John
laughed, embarrassed. "I've sat in the seat of my dad's car,
pretending, when I was a kid. Hands on the steering wheel, going
vrrrm, vrrrm, that's about it. You?"
    "Once. Uncle
Davey's van, but just on a bit of driveway, not on the roads. He
said when I'm a few years older, he'll take me out properly, some
of the back lanes, get loads of experience in so when I'm old
enough to take my test it'll be a doddle. Sal's welcome to the
boat, it doesn't go fast enough for me."
    "Boy racer,"
John said, and Simon laughed and said, "One day," and they walked
on together down to the harbour. Two or three boats were heading
through the breakwater and out into the open sea, and one was tied
up next to the harbour wall, its engine idling. An elderly man sat
on a bollard on the harbour, smoking a cigarette and leafing
through a newspaper.
    "There's
Davey," Simon said. "Checking the racing pages." Then the boat
engine revved loudly, a cloud of black smoke shot out from behind
it, and John and Simon laughed as Davey dropped his paper and
hurried down into the boat. "See, told you Sal liked to play around
with it."
    They reached
the harbour wall just as Davey came back out of the small cabin. He
looked as if he had spent his entire life outside, and made John
think of a standing stone, tilted to one side, weathered until it
looked as old as forever, but possessed of great strength to have
lasted all those years. Davey wore faded cord trousers, and a
thick, padded checked shirt worn like a jacket over a thin jumper
that was so faded it was hard