Free Sea Change by Francis Rowan Page A

to tell what colour it had once been.
His head was bare, and this disappointed John, because Davey struck
him as the sort of man who should never ever be without a battered
old cap, that he would probably wear to bed.
    "Mornin'," he
said. "You must be John. Good to meet you son, I'm Davey. You—"
this now to Simon, "—thought you were never comin'. Sister's been
here for ages, what you been doing, falling asleep on a park bench
on the way to pick your friend up?"
    "We're not all
used to getting up at the crack of dawn, you know."
    "Dawn? Nearly
bloody midday. Anyway, let's have you on board, because I've got to
drive over to Pickering this afternoon, see a man about a new
engine for the van. And weather's going to turn this afternoon, I
reckon."
    Simon climbed
over the harbour wall and down the iron ladder that clung to the
weathered stone until it disappeared into the dark swell of the
water. When he was three rungs above the boat he waited for a
moment, until the gentle swell moved the boat closer, and then
jumped, landing on the deck.
    "Need a hand
down, lad?" Davey said to John, but in a way that was helpful
rather than patronising. John grinned, liking the man already. His
jumper smelt of pipe smoke, and it reminded John of being little,
of his granddad.
    "Nah, thanks."
Not to be outdone, he swung himself over the harbour wall just as
fast as Simon, and climbed down the ladder, being careful not to
look down into the water. The back of the boat seemed a long way
away, and John waited for the swell to bring it in closer, but then
it started to move even further away and he realised that this was
as close as it got. Rather than make himself look stupid by hanging
on the ladder like a monkey, waiting for the boat to drift back in,
he jumped anyway, his body moving through the air with nothing
beneath it for a moment other than the water. Then he landed on the
wooden decking with a clatter, but kept his balance, and
straightened up nonchalantly, sticking his hands into his
pockets.
    "Morning Sal,"
he shouted in to the cabin. She had her back to him, looking down
at the instruments, and she raised her hand in greeting but did not
turn around. He wondered if Greg had come calling for her the day
before.
    "So lad, you
been out on a boat before?"
    "Not really,"
John said. "Not like this one. Been on a ferry across to France,
but I don't suppose it's really the same."
    "No restaurant
on this one," Davey said, "but the crew's a damn sight more
pleasant." Davey grinned, and his whole face wrinkled up like a
crumpled piece of paper. "Right," he shouted, "you going to start
her up again Sally? But remember what I said this time."
    Down under
John's feet the engine shook and growled into life.
    "You can take
her for a bit son, if you like, when we're out. If you can prise
Sally away from the wheel, that is. We'll just go out, give you a
taste of what it's like being out of sight of land, potter along
the coast a little bit and then it's back, I'm afraid. Sorry it
can't be longer, it's a beautiful morning for it, but like I said,
I've got to see a man through Pickering. If what he says on the
phone is true, with a bit of luck I'm coming back with a new engine
for the van."
    "No problem,"
John said, "it's just nice to get the chance to go out."
    "Aye well,
we'll get us out then, rather than stand here nattering. I want a
lifejacket on you, same as the other two. Simon can show you how. I
better get meself in there. She's a good learner, is Sal, and can
steer a steady course in clear water, but it's a while before I'll
be letting her take the boat out through the breakwater, I tell you
that for nothing, doesn't matter how good she thinks she is."
    He stomped away
into the cabin, and Simon grinned at John, reaching for a
lifejacket. "He's all right, is Uncle Davey, but he doesn't half go
on a bit. On his own, you see, since Auntie Jean died, reckon he
gets a bit lonely. Then again, he always went on a bit when she was
still around. He's