Rules for a Successful Book Club (The Book Lovers 2)

by Victoria Connelly

  Pulling up near the school, Polly got out of the car and waited by the school gates with the other parents, nodding to a couple of her friends. She didn’t socialise with many of the other parents; she found that juggling her two jobs as well as raising Archie was enough to fill her time, but there was always a certain amount of toing and froing with children’s parties and she’d have to get herself organised with Archie’s fast approaching, she thought.

  And there he was – her little boy – running towards her as if he was still three years old rather than nearly seven. Still so excited to see her and tell her all about his day. Long may it continue, she thought, greeting him before walking back to the car as he rattled on about how he’d managed to score a whole nine out of ten in his maths test.

  ‘That’s certainly more than I ever got,’ Polly confessed, remembering her hatred of maths.

  It was as they were driving home that she first spotted it. She caught sight of Archie in her rear view mirror as she reached a junction. He was holding something in his hand that she couldn’t quite make out.

  ‘Archie? What’s that?’

  ‘A boat.’

  ‘Hold it up.’

  He did as he was told and Polly squinted at it, noticing that it was a model of a little ship. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘A man gave it to Tiger to give to me.’

  ‘Where? When?’

  ‘Tiger said he was outside the school gates at lunch time and the man told Tiger to give the boat to me.’

  ‘Archie, what did this man look like?’

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t see him.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I didn’t see him, Mum.’

  Polly felt quite faint. ‘Give me the boat.’

  He handed it to her, but a honk on a horn from the car behind them meant that Polly had to move on and so she dropped the little boat into her lap, but she could feel her heart had begun to race.

  How Polly managed to make it home without glancing down at the model boat, she’d never know, but she did, parking the car and placing the boat in her coat pocket.

  ‘Can I have it back, Mum?’ Archie said as they went indoors.

  ‘No, Archie. I need to keep it for a while, okay?’

  He looked at her, obviously bemused, but then Dickens ran into the hallway and distracted him.

  ‘Change out of your uniform.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said and, once he was safely upstairs, Polly took her coat off and reached for the boat in her pocket.

  The similarity was striking.

  ‘Oystercatcher,’ she whispered. The Oystercatcher had been Sean’s boat. Was it just a coincidence? Had some random person been hanging around the school with a model of a boat to give away to some child they didn’t know? It didn’t seem very likely. And why pick out Archie to give it to? No, Polly thought. This wasn’t a random act. The boat was a clear message, wasn’t it? A message sent not to her son but to her.

  ‘Sean’s back,’ she whispered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘I’ve got a boat,’ a man’s voice said.

  Polly turned around, the summer sunshine dazzling her eyes. The man who greeted her was tall with short sandy hair and startling blue eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts and had an athletic look about him that made him look right at home there on the harbour.

  ‘She’s called Oystercatcher. Just over there.’ He pointed to a pretty yacht in the marina. Compared to its harbour companions, Oystercatcher was a modest little boat, but a very pretty one.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she said.

  ‘Would you like to go out in her?’

  Polly laughed at his forwardness although she had to give him marks for originality. It wasn’t every man who had the luxury of approaching a woman with that particular line.

  ‘Polly?’ It was Georgia, one of the friends whom she’d arrived with. Georgia was followed by her boyfriend, Alex, and a couple of others from the gang. Polly had spent the few years since graduating teaching abroad, but now she was back home and had met a small group of friends for lunch down by a pub on the River Orwell.

  ‘We lost you!’ Georgia said.

  ‘I was just taking a stroll,’ Polly said. ‘I wanted to see the view.’

  ‘It’s better from the water,’ the man said. ‘Nothing beats the view of the land from the water.’

  Polly smiled. ‘This man has just asked me to go out in his boat with him,’ she told her friends.

  ‘Is that right?’ Georgia said.

  Alex did a double take as he stepped forward. ‘Sean?’

  ‘Alex?’

  The two men lunged for each other and did the old backslapping routine, laughing heartily.

  ‘Georgia, Polly, everyone – this is Sean Prior,’ Alex announced. He’s the guy I sailed round the Greek islands with a couple of years ago.’

  ‘Really?’ Georgia was instantly impressed and stepped forward to shake the man’s hand.

  ‘How’s the boat doing?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Had to sell her,’ Sean said. ‘But just bought this little one,’ he said, nodding to Oystercatcher.’

  ‘She’s a little beauty,’ Alex remarked.

  ‘But little for sure,’ Sean said. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever own another like Zephyr again.’

  ‘Ah, she will be missed.’

  ‘She will,’ Sean said. ‘Listen, I’ve just asked Polly to come on board. That’s okay, isn’t it?’

  Polly’s eyes widened at his use of her name before they had been officially introduced.

  ‘Sure thing,’ Alex said. ‘Go right ahead.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to go?’ Polly said.

  ‘You’re turning down a sail with Sean Prior?’ Alex asked incredulously, giving a shrug.

  ‘I’ll go!’ Georgia said.

  ‘Oh, no you won’t,’ Alex said. ‘You’re staying on dry land with me.’

  She pouted. ‘You’ll have to go now, Polly,’ she said, ‘so I can live the experience through you.’

  ‘Well?’ Sean prompted. ‘How about it?’

  Polly looked out onto the water which was a stunning blue today and thought how wonderful it would be to venture out there. The fact that Alex knew Sean made it seem a little less risky to accept the offer.

  ‘Okay,’ she said at last.

  Georgia clapped her hands. ‘We’ll watch!’

  ‘No we won’t,’ Alex said. ‘We’re going back to the pub. Catch up with us there, okay?’

  ‘I won’t keep her long,’ Sean said.

  Georgia waved goodbye as if Polly was off on some transatlantic journey instead of a tootle along the River Orwell.

  ‘Have you been sailing before?’ Sean asked as he led the way.

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘Well, we won’t be using the sails today. We’ll use the motor as it’s a short trip.’

  They reached the Oystercatcher and Sean hopped nimbly aboard, turning to face Polly and holding his hand out to help her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her eyes widening when she realised how small the cockpit was. They were going to be in very close proximity for the duration of their journey.

  ‘Life jacket,’ he said, handing it to her and putting one on himself. She watched how to do it. A life jacket was a new experience for a landlubber.

  He started up the engine and carefully guided the boat out of the marina and into the River Orwell, taking the tiller and looking ahead with those amazing blue eyes of his. Polly crossed the tiny space and looked down into the cabin.

  ‘Four berth,’ Sean said.

  ‘Do you sleep on the boat?’

  ‘All the time,’ he said. ‘It’s great for all-night parties.’ He grinned. ‘You can find a mooring and make as much noise as you like. But I don’t really do that sort of thing these days. I’m more likely to keep her to myself and enjoy the solitude.’

  ‘Can I take a look?’

  He nodded and Polly carefully walked down the steps into the
cabin and immediately started swaying.

  ‘Oh!’ she gasped, quickly coming back up into the cockpit.

  ‘Don’t have your sea legs yet?’ he said. She shook her head. ‘Look out towards the horizon. That’ll settle you. Take some deep breaths.’ She did as she was told. ‘Better?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t go out to sea today,’ he said.

  ‘You weren’t planning that, were you?’ she asked in horror.

  ‘Only teasing. We’re not going to go far. Just up to Pin Mill.’

  Polly felt mightily relieved. She hadn’t realised quite how useless she would be out on the water. It was always one of those things in life that one imagined one would be good at. Whenever Polly had thought of sailing in the past, she’d had a vision of a self-assured, Grace Kelly-style woman, standing at the tiller with her hair blowing in the breeze. Instead, she was a nervous wreck with her hair not so much blowing as knotting angrily across her face.

  ‘Relax!’ Sean cried.

  ‘I’m trying!’ she cried back, and she really did, looking out from the boat as the light sparkled like a thousand brilliant-cut diamonds on the water. A huge black cormorant took off from a moored boat, its enormous wings dark against the blue sky, and Polly gasped as she saw tantalising glimpses of beautiful homes by the waterfront which would be impossible to see from any road. Secret worlds, she thought. Worlds only visible by boat. Worlds this man knew all about.

  She turned to look at him as he stood at the tiller. He was wearing a navy cap now to shield his eyes and his face was bronzed from exposure to the sun and his arms were gloriously tanned too.

  ‘Enjoying the view?’ he asked with a grin.

  Polly looked away, feeling herself blushing. ‘Yes,’ she said, pointing to a church.

  ‘Levington,’ he said and she felt the full weight of his eyes upon her. ‘Come here.’

  She turned around and swallowed hard, suddenly aware that she was out in the middle of the river with someone who was practically a stranger. Alex might have sailed around the Greek islands with him, but Polly didn’t know if he could be trusted or not.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, staying exactly where she was.

  ‘Come and take the tiller,’ he said. ‘Come on. Don’t you want to have a go at steering?’

  Polly wasn’t sure if she did or not, but it would seem churlish if she didn’t show some interest and so she walked towards him and placed her hands on the smooth wood.

  ‘Oh,’ she said a moment later. ‘You have to be quite strong, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s not as easy as a wheel,’ he told her. ‘Keep between the buoys. We’ll just go a little further and then turn her around.’

  Polly laughed. She couldn’t help it. This was actually really good fun.

  ‘Okay?’

  She nodded because she didn’t think she could speak whilst concentrating on what she was doing with this man’s yacht. He had trusted her to take charge of it and, although he was standing right beside her and able to correct any mistakes she might make, it showed a great deal of faith on his part, and she appreciated that.

  Sean took the tiller from her when it was time to turn around, guiding the boat back up river, passing the church and Pin Mill once more before returning to the marina where the Oystercatcher was moored.

  ‘I had a lot of fun,’ she told him after all the ropes had been fixed.

  ‘Me too,’ he said, giving that smile again that she was going to find hard to forget. ‘Listen, come out with me again some time. Make a day of it.’

  ‘A day?’ she said. ‘A whole day?’

  ‘You need a whole day to make real progress down the river. We’ll take a picnic, moor up somewhere and eat on the boat. What do you say?’

  Polly wasn’t sure what to say, but she found herself nodding and smiling.

  ‘Here,’ he said, taking a mobile out of his shorts pocket, ‘let’s swap numbers.’

  Polly got her phone out. ‘Prior, right?’

  He nodded. ‘What’s your surname?’

  ‘Nightingale.’

  ‘That’s pretty. But I’m not going to put that.’

  ‘What are you going to put?’

  He tapped into his phone and then held it up to her.

  Pretty Polly.

  She grinned.

  ‘I’ll call you.’

  Georgia, who’d waved like a mad thing when she’d spotted them from the pub garden, came running down the pontoon now, ready to leap upon her.

  ‘Ahoy there!’ she yelled. ‘Hi Sean. Hope you took care of my friend.’

  ‘He did,’ Polly told her, smiling as Sean held up his hand to wave goodbye.

  ‘So,’ Georgia said, linking arms with her and leading her away, ‘did you give him your number?’

  ‘I might have done.’

  ‘I’d never met him before today,’ Georgia said, ‘but I’ve heard bits and pieces about him from Alex.’

  ‘All good?’ Polly asked and a tiny frown appeared on Georgia’s face.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You hesitated.’

  ‘No, no,’ Georgia said. ‘I mean, Alex once told me about a guy he went sailing with who had a bit of a temper, but that probably wasn’t Sean.’ She frowned again. ‘No. I’m sure it wasn’t. He is much too good looking to be bad-tempered, isn’t he?’

  Polly smiled. ‘He was very patient with me. He let me steer the boat.’

  ‘Did he?’

  She nodded. ‘And we’re going out again. All day.’

  Georgia squealed. ‘Oh, Polly! I’m so excited for you.’

  ‘It’s just a day out. Don’t go booking the church or anything.’

  ‘Oh, you are funny! I’m not like that.’

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ Polly said, turning around one last time to take a look at the handsome man who was watching her from on board the Oystercatcher.

  Holding the little model boat in her hands now, Polly remembered that day with Sean like it was yesterday. The feel of the wind in her hair and the dazzling light on the water. She remembered how he’d shown her another world and how she’d been mesmerised by it. She really hadn’t stood a chance especially when they’d moored on a private jetty and he’d kissed her for the first time, the spiralling song of a skylark making a romantic soundtrack high above them.

  But what was going on with this little boat? It was too strange to think that he’d been hanging around the school waiting to give the gift to Archie. If he was truly back, why didn’t he call her? Why play this strange cat and mouse game with a model boat?

  For a moment, Polly remembered the way Dickens had barked at the back door. Had that been Sean? Had he been right there? She’d had the feeling once or twice before that somebody had been watching the house, but maybe that was just paranoia.

  ‘Sean?’ She spoke the name quietly as if testing it out. Maybe if he was really still alive, she’d feel something and know for sure? But she felt nothing. Nothing but fear, that was. It was awful to admit it, but she was frightened at the thought of him being back. It was now three and a half years since he’d gone missing and those years had been difficult and strange, but Polly had adapted. She was proud of herself for being able to cope as a single mother. She and Archie had had some rough times, but they’d always managed; they’d had each other and that was enough. But what if Sean came back? Archie didn’t really know his father at all. How would he react if Sean came walking back into their lives now?

  And Jago. What about Jago?

  Polly felt tears threatening to spill. If Sean was truly back, what would that mean for her and Jago?

  Jago was cleaning up after an early tea when his mum came home.

  ‘You’re late,’ he said, greeting her with a kiss in the hallway.

  ‘Stopped for some groceries,’ she said and Jago took the bags from her to take through to the kitchen. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘Had a minor crisis with Briggs and the band, but i
t’s all good now.’

  ‘Briggs is always in a state of crisis, isn’t he?’

  Jago laughed. ‘More or less.’

  She turned to take her hat and coat off and Jago cleared his throat.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s something I want to tell you.’

  She frowned. ‘Sounds serious,’ she said.

  ‘It is,’ he told her.

  They went through to the living room and Maureen drew the curtains against the wintry night and put an extra lamp on.

  ‘There, all nice and cosy,’ she said, removing an ancient copy of Woman’s Weekly before sitting down in her favourite armchair. Jago sat down opposite her. ‘Now, what is it?’

  Jago scratched his chin. ‘I’m seeing Polly.’

  His mother frowned. ‘Polly Prior?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘From across the road?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, of course from across the road. How many other Polly Priors are there?’ He bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to snap. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

  She shifted uneasily in her chair and he didn’t think it was because she’d found another magazine lurking there.

  ‘What should I say?’ she asked. ‘It seems like you’ve made your mind up about it.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  He sighed. ‘I’d like your approval.’

  ‘You don’t need my approval, son.’

  ‘I know, but I’d like it all the same.’ He watched his mother’s reaction. His throat felt dry and he could feel himself tensing up. How ridiculous was that?

  ‘I can’t give it,’ she said at last.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I can’t give you my approval.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I think you should stay away from her.’

  ‘But you like her,’ he said. ‘You’ve said you like her in the past.’

  ‘I do like her. I also think that it would be ill advised to become involved with her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Maureen Solomon shook her head. ‘She’s a married woman, Jago. A married mother.’