A Kiss, a Dare and a Boat Called Promise

by Fiona Foden

  She frowns at him, and he gives me a quick, apologetic look. “I will, Mum, but it’s just … I’ve got a friend here. This is Josie, she’s the one who found Daisy—”

  “Oh, did you?” she says, blinking at me. “Thank you.” She turns away from us, and Leon’s cheeks flush and he looks down at the ground.

  “Sorry about this,” he mutters under his breath.

  “It’s OK,” I whisper, “but I think I’d better go…”

  Leon nods. “D’you remember the way home?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s easy.” I can feel his mum giving me a sharp look as I hurry away, past the clumps of cheerful yellow flowers, towards the gates.

  “Josie, hang on!”

  I whirl round to see Leon running after me. “Wait a minute,” he says, catching his breath. “I wanted to say something in the summer house. About that boat…”

  “What d’you mean?” I start.

  “You know, the one those people saw that looked just like Promise … aren’t you going to find out for sure?”

  I frown at him. “How would I do that?”

  Leon pushes back dishevelled dark hair. “How about phoning the boatyard guy and pretending to be interested in buying her?”

  “I couldn’t do that,” I exclaim. “I’d never be able to pull it off.”

  “Why not? It’s only a phone call.”

  I shake my head firmly. “No, Leon. He’d be bound to know.”

  “Oh, come on,” he teases, grabbing my arm. “I dare you. What have you got to lose? Just call him and find out what’s going on.”

  As I speed-walk home, I think about Rosie with her trumpet, balancing on a wall that’s about twice my height. If a five-year-old is brave enough to do that, and to stand up to her scary mum, then surely I can muster the courage to make a quick call to Bill’s boatyard. I turn into Castle Street, noticing that the flowers in the pub’s window boxes look even sadder than they did this morning, even though they’ve been rained on. As I approach the pub, sidestepping litter and a scattering of yellowy rice, I rehearse the conversation I might have with Bill.

  Er … hello, Mr McIntyre. I hear you have a boat, Lily-May, for sale. Could I just ask if she’s had a recent name change…? No, that wouldn’t do.

  Hello, Bill. I heard you were sending a friend’s boat to the scrapyard. I don’t suppose you still have her, do you? It’s just… Just what, exactly? I’m useless at this. I’m going to fail at Leon’s dare, without even trying.

  I march into the pub, which is still half-full from the lunch-time crowd. Some of the regulars recognize me now, and give me a smile and a “Hi, love” as I pass. Vince winks at me from behind the bar as he pours a pint, and I glimpse Mum darting about through the frosted-glass kitchen door. Good – she’s busy. And as Ryan will still be at work, I’ll have the flat to myself. I poke my head into the kitchen, waving to Mum as she and Maria set out slices of apple pie. “Have a nice time, love?” Mum asks distractedly.

  “Yes, thanks.” I turn and scamper upstairs, my head filled with Leon’s words to me.

  I dare you. What have you got to lose?

  In my room, I lie on my lumpy bed, wondering what to do next. I can’t mention any of this to Mum, at least not yet. She’s run off her feet most of the time (there are obviously not enough staff here. Maybe that’s why the previous chef walked out?). Anyway, if I start on about Promise again she’ll get annoyed, and assume I can’t accept that we’re living in London for good. After all, I did agree to try and make the best of things here.

  From down in the street comes a burst of screechy laughter. I jump up off my bed and peer out to see Chantelle, her friend Gemma and a whole bunch of other girls who I don’t know, all clattering along in a big clump. In just three weeks, I’ll be going to school with them. Mum has been on to the council and arranged for me and Ryan to start at Luffenden Grove, a huge modern block splattered in bird poo where Chantelle and Gemma go. “It’s a lively school,” I heard Vince telling Mum, “but they’ll both be fine there. I’ll ask Chantelle to take Josie under her wing.” Yeah, right. That makes it feel a lot less daunting…

  In fact, when I think about school, the whole Promise business seems even more urgent. OK, I might be getting all excited about nothing. After all, Maggie and Phil just saw a boat that looked like ours. But what if it really was Promise? That would mean Bill had lied, and that the rotten bits could be replaced after all. And say he’d had her repaired, then decided to sell her … what then? Would she legally still belong to us? If she did, maybe we could leave this miserable flat and go back to the river, and our old school, and have Bella next door…

  With my head whirling with possibilities, I grab my phone and call Leon. “Are you busy right now?” I blurt out.

  “No, I was helping Mum to pack up some orders but I’ve finished now. Why … is everything OK?”

  He sounds so concerned, I immediately feel less alone. “Um … could you find a phone number for me? I’d do it myself but we don’t have a computer yet.”

  “Sure,” he says. “Who’s it for?”

  “Bill McIntyre’s boatyard in Clingford.”

  “You’re going to do it!” he exclaims.

  I can’t help smiling. “Yeah. Well, you dared me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think—”

  “Have you found the number yet?” I cut in.

  Leon laughs. “Give me a minute, will you? I’ll get my laptop and text it to you. What’s the place called again?”

  “Something like McIntyre Boat Repair and Maintenance.”

  “I’ll find it.” Less than two minutes later, my phone pings with a text: 01632 171234. Lx

  Lx! Not that I’m reading too much into that. Anyway, more importantly, I have the number…

  I bite my lip, aware of terrible thumping rock music drifting up from the pub jukebox downstairs. Of course, this might come to nothing. Even if it was Promise that Maggie and Phil saw at the yard, it doesn’t mean she’s still there. My heart is thumping as I tap out the number on my mobile.

  “Hello?” The blunt male voice throws me, as it’s obviously someone much younger than Bill.

  “Er … hello.” I clear my throat awkwardly. What had I planned to say again? “Ummm … I’m just calling to find out about a boat you have for sale,” I say in a weird, robotic voice.

  “Which one?” the man asks.

  “Erm…” Now my tongue feels as if it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth. “It’s a wooden boat called…” Oh no! What was her name again? Lily-something. My mind has gone blank. I wish Bella was here, giving me courage. “She’s very old,” I babble, “and has three cabins and…”

  “Oh, yeah?” he says, sounding as if he is barely listening now.

  “Has she been sold?” I croak.

  “Hmm…” the man mutters. My heart is thumping so loudly, it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. “Hang on,” he adds. “Yeah, I think she’s still here.”

  She’s still there! “So … is she still for sale?” I ask.

  No reply.

  “Hello?” I say loudly.

  There’s a shuffling noise, then some mumbling I can’t decipher. “Here’s my dad,” the man says finally. “You can ask him.”

  My jaw clenches as he says something else to a man in the background. It’s all muffled, as if he’s put a hand over the phone. Then an older man – presumably Bill – barks into the phone. “You’re calling about Lily-May?”

  “Yes,” I say brightly, hoping I sound much older than a thirteen-year-old girl.

  “Well, we’ve had a lot of interest,” he drawls. “In fact, someone’s coming over this afternoon to have a look at her.”

  “Oh, but I’m really interested,” I butt in. “If you can hold on for a day or two…” What am I saying? Going to the yard to check out this boat would have to in
volve Mum. That is, if she’d even agree to take time off work to come with me.

  “I can’t hang around,” he says sharply. “If a buyer comes along, the boat’s sold – simple as that. I’m running a business here, not a charity.”

  “No, I understand,” I say meekly.

  “Well,” he adds, “if you want to view her you’d better be quick. You’ll find all the details on my website.” With that, he finishes the call.

  “Thanks a lot,” I growl, placing my phone on my bedside table. I’m about to call Bella when Mum’s face, all flushed from the heat of the kitchen, appears around my bedroom door.

  “That’s the main lunch-time rush over,” she says. “I don’t suppose you’ve made yourself a sandwich or anything, have you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Come on, sweetheart. There’s a bit of veggie lasagne left if you fancy it. Believe it or not, it went down really well with the regular crowd today.”

  “Thanks, Mum,” I say, following her to the kitchen. She’s a fantastic cook, and I’m glad she’s managing to improve the menu, having replaced the horrible frozen burgers with her home-made meals. Even so, I still can’t accept that this place will ever feel like our real home.

  Later, as Ryan enthuses about his job, and how his boss described him as “a real worker”, I still feel miles away. “Everything all right, Josie?” Mum asks as we settle down to watch TV in the living room.

  “I’m fine, Mum,” I say firmly, glancing around at the ugliest wallpaper I’ve ever seen. The pattern is of rust-coloured flowers over a pale lemon background. Who in their right mind would choose that?

  She catches my eye. “I’m going to have a word with Vince and Maria to see if they’d be OK about us redecorating. We need to cheer the place up a bit.” I nod and glance at the quiz show on TV. “You’d both help, wouldn’t you?” she asks hopefully.

  “Yeah, course,” Ryan replies.

  “Josie?” Mum prompts me.

  “Er … yeah.” I peer down at my fingernails.

  She frowns, exasperated. “You seem as if you’re miles away tonight. I’d just like to make the place feel like ours, you know?”

  “Yes, I know,” I reply. “Erm … I’m just a bit tired tonight, Mum. Think I’ll have an early night.” Although I arrange my expression in a fake, perky smile, she still fixes me with worried eyes as I leave the room.

  In the privacy of my bedroom, I text Leon again: Can I come over tomorrow? Need to check something on laptop. Then I sit and wait. Maybe one day, we’ll get around to buying a computer like every other person in the civilized world, and then I won’t have to keep asking favours. On the plus side, though, it’s an excuse to spend more time at Leon’s.

  My phone pings. No prob, he replies, and there it is again – Lx. Which makes me smile a real smile this time.

  There are no sisters around the next day. It’s just me and Leon in the summer house, and he’s already found Lily-May on Bill McIntyre’s website.

  For sale

  A rare opportunity to acquire a unique vintage houseboat for relaxed cruising or living (ideal for family of four)

  *Wooden construction throughout, recently restored to the highest standard

  *Original interior in excellent condition

  *Smooth-running GL12 engine

  Must be seen to be fully appreciated

  Price £75,000

  We both stare at the photo of the boat moored against a narrow wooden jetty. “It looks like Promise,” I breathe. “The only difference is her name, but then, anyone could have stripped it off, revarnished the wood and painted on a new one.”

  Leon nods and looks at me. “Look how much he’s selling her for.”

  “I know. It’s unbelievable.” I turn and glance through the summer-house’s window that overlooks the garden. The droopy branches of a huge weeping willow are swaying in the breeze, and there’s a burst of laughter from up by the house. I cross my fingers that Leon’s sisters won’t all storm in.

  “What are you going to do?” he asks.

  I exhale loudly. “I don’t know. I suppose I hadn’t thought things through that far. But I guess the only way to find out if she’s really our boat is to go there and see for myself.”

  Leon frowns. “With your mum?”

  I sit back on a stripy floor cushion. “I … don’t want to tell her, Leon. I don’t want to say anything until I know for sure.”

  He throws me a confused look. “Why not?”

  “She’ll be annoyed that I’ve got involved at all, and anyway, what if she says we can’t go? What would I do then?”

  Leon sits on the cushion beside me, causing a shiver to run through me as his bare arm brushes against mine. “I see what you mean. Maybe you should go, then.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” I murmur, realizing that that’s exactly what I have to do.

  “And if your tin’s still there, you’ll know for certain…”

  I nod, flinching as a flash of pink appears in the garden. It’s Rosie, charging across the uncut lawn. Thankfully, she doesn’t even glance at the summer house.

  “Do boats have serial numbers?” Leon asks.

  “There probably is a number on the engine or something,” I say, “but Mum won’t have kept a note of it. She’s never been organized like that.” We slip into a thoughtful silence that doesn’t feel remotely awkward.

  “Josie,” Leon says finally, “if you’re going to the boatyard, I want to come with you.”

  I look at him, amazed. “Why?”

  “Because…” He shrugs and grins sheepishly. “I just do. It’ll be fun.”

  “But how would you get away with it? Wouldn’t your parents think it was weird if you were missing for a whole day?”

  Leon laughs, and I realize how dumb I’m being. “They won’t even notice. I’ve been doing my midnight bike rides for a few months now and they’ve never suspected anything. I think I’ll be able to disappear for a few hours without them calling the police.”

  I’m trying to keep down my smile as I glance at the coloured pins on his map, where he marked out the seven wonders of the world. “Are you sure?” I ask, turning back to him.

  “Totally. So how would we get there?”

  “We’d have to take a train, then a bus…”

  “Sounds OK. What would you tell your mum?”

  I pause. “Um … I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  His eyes seem to bore into mine. “She won’t go mad, will she? When she finds out, I mean.”

  “Not if it really is Promise,” I say firmly. “How could she, if it proves that Bill was lying to us all along?”

  “If you’re sure it’ll be OK,” he says with a smile.

  “Yeah, of course I am. We lost our home, and maybe we needn’t have after all. Mum will be so happy when she finds out the truth.”

  For that moment, in the wood-scented warmth of the summer house, if feels as if nothing could possibly go wrong.

  “So you think I’m doing the right thing?” I whisper late that night, after Bella has filled in me in on everything Murphy’s done these past few days.

  “Course I do,” she says. “It’s the only way you’re going to find out for certain.”

  From my sitting-up position in bed, I fix my gaze on the muddy-coloured night sky. At nearly eleven p.m., there’s still not a star out there. “You don’t think it’s a mad thing to do?”

  “Well, yes,” she laughs warmly, “but I know you can pull it off. Or rather, you and Leon can…” The smile spreads across my face. “So,” she adds, “aren’t you going to tell me more about him?”

  Where do I start? By describing his melting brown eyes and his lightly tanned skin that just seems to say “summer”. I describe his smile, and the way it not only lights up his face, b
ut somehow makes me believe that everything’s going to be all right.

  “Can’t wait to meet him,” Bella says.

  “Hopefully you will soon.” I pause before adding, “Is it OK if I pretend I’m coming to see you on the day we go to the boatyard?”

  “It’s fine,” she says firmly. “But how will you say you’re getting here?”

  “Er…” I chew at a fingernail. “I thought maybe I could tell Mum your dad’s picking me up.” I shift position in bed, aware of a niggle of guilt in the pit of my stomach.

  “That’s a good idea,” Bella agrees. “Your mum knows he comes to London quite often to do jobs and pick up supplies.”

  I swallow hard. “You won’t say a word to anyone about this, will you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Great. Well, I’ll figure out the details so Mum doesn’t suspect anything. It just seems…” I tail off, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. “It feels important that no one else knows about this right now. No one apart from you, that is.”

  “Or Leon,” she adds, and I know she’s grinning.

  “Yeah.” There’s a moment of silence, and it feels good, knowing she’s there.

  “He sounds lovely,” she adds with a sigh. “Sometimes, you know, I think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to move away from the river and do stuff, meet new people…”

  “I didn’t have any choice, though, did I?” I say gently.

  “Yeah, I know that. It’s just … I keep thinking, Josie’s in London, how exciting is that? And you’ve already met this amazing boy…”

  “He’s just a friend,” I remind her, pushing away the image that pops into my mind occasionally – of Chantelle throwing her arms around him in the pub. Which I’ve convinced myself didn’t mean a thing, because he’d hardly be spending time with me if there was still something going on between them, would he?

  “Yeah, at the moment,” Bella teases. “But who knows what’ll happen when the two of you set off on your big trip together? God, it’s exciting. You’re so lucky.”