Page 8 of Dead in the Water

“It’s stunning,” Lily said.

“It must be an amazing place to live,” the man said.

“I haven’t been here long.” Lily kept her eyes on the water, unwilling to miss a moment of the tail end of the sunset. “It is fantastic though. I should take more time to stop and watch the sunset.”

He released a gentle hum of agreement. “It’s nicer when you have someone to share it with.”

His solemn words snapped Lily from her trance.

“Oh!” she said, catching sight of his familiar neat moustache. “You were in the shop with your friends yesterday.”

“Yes. My little group provided you with some entertainment, I think. I’m afraid Kerry has a knack for speaking without thinking. I’m glad you didn’t take offence.”

“Hard to be offended when I know the coffee isn’t great. Now, if she’d said something derogatory about the ice cream, I wouldn’t have taken it well.”

“There was no danger of that. They were still raving about the ice cream at breakfast this morning. Your interesting flavours had everyone hooked.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “Where are your friends this evening?”

“In the Mermaid Inn. Or they were. They might be back on the boat by now.”

“On the boat?”

“We share a yacht.”

“Wow!” She sank onto the chair across from him. “That sounds great.”

“I suppose it does.” He shifted in his seat. “My dad taught me to sail when I was young. When I hit middle age, I decided I wanted to spend my retirement years sailing the world.”

“And you’re actually doing it?” she asked in awe.

“My wife and I couldn’t afford to buy a yacht. But we had friends who wanted to join our little venture, so it seemed like the perfect solution. We’d known them for years and everyone got on well.”

“I suppose you’d have to be pretty close,” Lily mused. “I honestly can’t think of many people I’d want to be stuck on a boat with for long periods of time.”

His moustache twitched as he smiled. “We agreed to stay in hotels on longer trips so we wouldn’t be under each other’s feet the whole time.” He pointed along the promenade. “We stayed atthe Star Castle the last couple of nights. We’re back on the boat tonight, ready for an early sail tomorrow.”

“Are you off somewhere nice?”

“Depends on your definition of nice. We’re heading home to St Ives, so it’s not far to go.”

“You don’t seem thrilled about that,” Lily remarked.

“I don’t think I’d be happy, no matter where we were going.”

She felt the muscles in her forehead pull tight. “Why not?”

“Long story,” he said, giving his head a shake as though clearing his thoughts. “Sorry, am I keeping you from closing up or something?”

She hitched her shoulders in a shrug. “I came out to put the tables and chairs away for the night, but I’m not in a rush…”

“It’s a fairly depressing story. You probably don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t mind.” Funny how quickly you could go from not wanting human interaction to not wanting it to end. “If you want to tell it, I’d be happy to hear it.”

His thoughtful silence stretched for long enough that Lily wasn’t sure she’d get to hear his story. It was an odd relief when he finally spoke.

“We’d had the boat for a month when my wife was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer. She died within six months and we only managed a few day trips on the yacht.”

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