Out of My Depth

by Gwenyth Clare Lynes

  “Oh my! Reinforcements! Great!” were her comments as the crockery tray clattered down on the table.

  RK looked round and saw tiredness etched on Trixie’s face so took her by the shoulders, steered her to sit down with her friends, and supplied her with necessary refreshment.

  More and more people came in, yet despite the busyness and the animated chatter of the children, RK caught snatches of the conversation between Trixie and her sister-in-law, Pauline, about Jansy and Dave’s forthcoming marriage.

  “How are the arrangements for the wedding shaping up?” Pauline enquired.

  “Well, after much thought it’s been decided to hold the reception here in the village hall and issue an open invitation to everyone from the village.”

  “Surely that’s a bit daunting, all those people, how will you cope?”

  “Thankfully, Jilly Briggs, with her incredible flair is going to prepare a wedding buffet and dear Emma, who’s been Jansy’s best friend since their first day at school, is going to decorate the hall in the style of Bettys of Harrogate,” explained Trixie.

  “That sounds a bit ambitious.”

  “Mmm,” Trixie nodded “but surely, right up Emma’s street?”

  “Yes, I can see her pulling that off. Her window displays at the Stores have been amazing in the past few months. Obviously, she’s inherited Mick’s arty panache.”

  “Lizzie Piper, Jansy’s young cousin from Newton Bridge, has been persuaded to play the piano throughout the proceedings.”

  “I’d heard she was giving a recital.”

  “Jansy’s thrilled she’s agreed and will alternate with Stuart Jenner. He quite publicly declares he is not really a piano man, just reserve church organist, but will help out so that Lizzie can have a break.”

  “That’s good of him.”

  “I understand Lizzie’s just won a scholarship to the Royal College of Music.”

  “Yes, she’s such a talented young lady but my brother-in-law can’t, or won’t, see it.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I agree. Lizzie’s nimble fingers can sew a fine seam but their finest work is achieved when they run in cadences on the black and white notes of the keyboard but Joe feels his daughter should follow in her mother’s footsteps. Her mum, my sister Maisie, as you know, is a skilled seamstress and currently making Jansy’s wedding dress in between working on the furnishings for their boat business.”

  “Gosh, I wouldn’t like to take on that responsibility.”

  “Actually, it’s coming along quite nicely, so I haven’t any worries on that score. The one thing that really does concern me is the discord between Dave and Jansy because they can’t agree where to live.”

  “That is worrying.”

  “I hope they can resolve it while they’re off-duty together before Dave goes back to sea,” commented Penny.

  “So do I,” said Trixie with great feeling.

  “I understand they were offered the cottage that was Alex and Graeme’s home before they moved into the bungalow.”

  “Mmm. Turned it down flat!”

  “No! I’d heard too, via the grapevine, that Lord Edmund offered them Gate Lodge, which is currently empty and also one of the recently modernized estate cottages. He feels so strongly that affordable housing should be available in the village for young people should they wish to stay, doesn’t he?”

  “You heard right.”

  “So, they have their pick of properties?”

  “Yes, but Jansy is digging her heels in,” said Trixie running her fingers through her hair in exasperated resignation. She gave herself a shake and looked towards the busy serving table.

  “Well, this won’t do. We’d better get on, can’t leave the youngsters to do our job.”

  “They appear to have managed extremely well. Rosie’s very capable and that young man seems to have everything in hand.”

  “Maybe,” said Pauline dubiously.

  “I wonder who he really is.”

  “Can’t seem to go anywhere in the village without bumping into him.”

  “Anyway, the young folk have taken to him.”

  “He must be OK then,” Trixie laughed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following day RK walked along the harbourside enjoying the warmth of the continuing spring sunshine with a freedom of spirit that came from a relaxed body and mind. The liveliness and industry on this stretch of water was fascinating and repeatedly drew the landlubbing visitor like a magnet. Thus far, RK was totally unaware that the keen interest shown in the activity in the harbour was viewed with suspicion and being closely monitored by harbour master and local constabulary.

  One of the longshore boats was preparing to cast off and set sail. A deck hand, who looked vaguely familiar to RK, manoeuvred the thick mooring rope from the stanchion on the quayside, tossed it aboard and jumped, following it closely on to the deck. Now where have I seen him before? RK scrutinized the young man as he coiled the rope into a neat pile while the boat slipped it’s berth and seemingly, moved effortlessly through the water towards the harbour lights and out to the open sea, but simply couldn’t place him.

  The ever present gulls swooped and called as they accompanied the boat on the first part of its journey. RK watched the procedure enthralled but Titus Wills watched RK through binoculars with misgiving, contemplating the significance of RK’s presence in Newton Westerby.

  To the right a yacht was tacking, its white sails slackened then taut as they billowed to catch the breeze, and its mast reaching majestically to the sky. Alongside the quay, on the left, numerous craft of differing shapes and sizes were in the process of being kitted out, cleaned and painted, taking on board water, diesel or provisions, or simply ‘pottered about in’ by their enthusiastic owners.

  Further along the bank, a lone fisherman sat patiently awaiting a catch, his rod baited and perfectly poised. Closer inspection would have revealed that beneath the large cap was Sergeant Tom Catchpole, incognito. From his vantage point he was vigilantly keeping an eye on the movements of RK.

  Oblivious of the close scrutiny, RK leant on the harbour wall attracted by activity on the far side of the river, where a smidgeon of children were gathered on a floating pontoon, armed with their buckets, lines and bacon, engaged in gillieing. Gil Jenner had earlier in the day described in detail the art of gillieing or crab catching and proudly produced a trophy that he had won one year when he had come first in the gillieing championships. The intense look on the youngsters’ faces showed how serious a pursuit it was and RK sensed the accompanying parents were equally absorbed by the activity.

  In fact, the occupation was so engaging that RK almost missed the Catton family as they passed by on the landward side of the quay, until the excited voice of a young boy could be heard above the cacophony of harbour sounds assailing RK’s ears.

  “Why, hello there,” RK turned and greeted the little family.

  “You’re the bike man, aren’t you,” stated Daniel jumping up and down.

  “Yes, I do have a motorbike,” agreed RK.

  Daniel looked around mystified, “But… where is it?”

  “I’ve left it in the car park at the Ship Inn. I’m going for a walk this morning and calling in to the restaurant for lunch on the way back.”

  “Oh,” said the little boy disappointedly, the corners of his mouth curling down towards his chin.

  RK crouched down beside him in order to speak with him at his level, “Now, we really can’t have a glum clown face on such a bright day. You’ll make us all feel sad.” RK tweaked Daniel’s crestfallen face, leant forward and whispered in his ear, “I shall be here for a few more days so I expect you’ll have chance to see it again.”

  “Oh, goody,” replied Daniel, his countenance changing rapidly. He beamed at the newcomer as he clapped his hands together in glee.

  “Hello again,” said Laura, drawing alongside her chatting son. “You obviously remember Daniel from Sunday morning when you met him at t
he sunrise service accompanied by my husband, Adam. This little lady is Kirsten and the sleepy head in the buggy is Poppy.” Laura gestured towards her daughters.

  “It’s lovely to see you all. I’m just enjoying your splendid village.” RK’s infectious grin encompassed the whole family causing Kirsty to giggle.

  “I hope it meets all your expectations,” said Laura with a smile. “We’ve just been down to the pier head to wave off my Cousin Mark’s boat.”

  “I thought it was unlucky to do that,” remarked RK.

  “Some would say so, but I don’t agree with the old idea that it’s bad luck to see a relative’s boat out of harbour. That’s superstition.”

  “I’d heard that fishermen object to it.”

  “Yes, it’s true and my uncle would never allow it, but I like to wish Mark God speed and a safe journey when he sets sail and send him away with our prayers.”

  “Just another aspect of this rather captivating place, then?” said RK warmly.

  “It all depends on what you are used to. For me, living in a village, by the sea, amongst family and friends, could not be better. We have fresh air, clear skies, interesting harbour, clean beach, long walks and a close-knit community who look out for one another. If that’s what you’re looking for then, that’s Newton Westerby.”

  “So I’m discovering. This is only my third day and already it’s been quite an adventure and I’ve met some interesting people.”

  “It’s not always this tranquil but I tend to look for the best in every situation even when we have the howling winds and storms. God is so good!”

  “I’m fascinated by the crab catchers.”

  “Oh, that’s good fun,” enthused Daniel.

  “But we can only do it when Daddy’s with us,” explained Kirsten.

  “I think that’s very sensible.” RK looked up at Laura. “How does one get to the other side of the water? I mean apart from swimming or by boat. I don’t see a bridge.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t swim. It’s not allowed,” admonished Kirsten solemnly.

  “I won’t try that, then, thankyou for telling me.”

  “There’s a ferry,” explained Laura. “It’s about half a mile up river so that it doesn’t impede vessels coming into harbour,” she paused to point inland up the river. “If you look beyond the fisherman on the bank it’s now reaching this side.” With a craned neck RK looked in the direction Laura was pointing.

  “How often does it run?”

  “Oh, it sails back and forth all day and, when needed, in the evenings. It links the roads, which run down to the river on either side. I’m afraid you can’t see them very well from here. It carries foot passengers, small cars, bikes, scooters, prams and mobility chairs. Larger vehicles have to do the twenty mile trip round by the main road.”

  “Where does it take you to?”

  “The lane the other side leads to Newton Bridge and Newton Lokesby, a pretty riverside village that is also blessed with a railway station, a boatyard and a hotel.”

  “Ah, yes, The Station Hotel, fully booked because it’s Easter,” said RK rising to an upright position.

  “You’ve obviously been in touch.”

  “Yes, but it sounds a place worth visiting. I might venture there tomorrow.”

  “Well, we’re now off to the play-park where there are swings and slides and a climbing frame.”

  “That sounds like fun. Have a good time. I’m going to explore the coast line then plan to come back along the top of the cliffs.”

  Laura and the children waved goodbye and headed towards the park, Daniel chatting excitedly about seeing RK’s bike the next day.

  When they parted, Titus Wills and Sgt. Catchpole, who had observed the exchange from their different vantage points, met up and quietly conferred in the harbour master’s office on their next course of action as they watched RK set out on the coastal walk.

  Unfortunately, drug and people smuggling had become rife along some parts of the English coast. In recent days it had come to light that the tiny East Anglian ports were being targeted because the traffickers considered them an easy option to offload their cargo believing they were not as closely monitored so their illicit activities were less likely to be detected. However, the Newton Westerby men were scrupulously watchful, alert to unusual activity or strangers in their area, and acted accordingly. So that, unwilling to lose sight of the newcomer they sent a message to P.C. Prettyman instructing him to head in the same direction.

  Meanwhile, further along the quayside, the Catton family were accosted on their walk to the park by a very distraught Mrs Jenner; seagulls had just messed all over her newly set hair.

  “Look, the bird droppen’s be on my coat and my face and in my hair. Oh dear, whatever shall Oi dew? Rachel has only just finished my hair. What a mess!” The old lady wafted her arms about helplessly.

  “My dear Mrs Jenner, I am so sorry, what an unpleasant experience,” Laura began kindly, as she rummaged in the buggy basket for baby wipes. Mrs Jenner had certainly worked herself into a state.

  “Yes, but what’ll Oi dew, Laura, you’re the nurse, Oi don’t want e’.” Laura suddenly realized it wasn’t just the mess that concerned Mrs Jenner but the very real fear that she might contract the dreaded bird flu because of the incident.

  “I do understand your concern, Mrs Jenner. Here, let me help you clean up with these wipes.”

  “But e’ be always in the news an…”

  “Yes, I know, and I understand it is very prevalent in some areas but if you’re careful I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “But look at me, e’ be everywhere,” the old lady wailed.

  “Look, we’ve got the worst of it off. I suggest you go home rewash your hair, sponge down your coat and thoroughly scrub your hands.”

  “Oi don’t want to be ill, Laura,” said Mrs Jenner, tearfully, grabbing Laura’s arm.

  “Then you need to take all the necessary precautions. If you’re worried, take your coat into the Stores and have them send it to the cleaners, then call into the surgery on your way home, explain what’s happened and they will give you some antiseptic hand wash. Use it.”

  “But my lovely hair-dew…”

  “My dear Mrs Jenner, you must make the choice, but I know what I would do. Now off you go. The sooner you deal with it, the better. Come along children, the park awaits us.” Laura binned the wipes, spayed her hands with antiseptic spray she always carried in the buggy, and stepped out briskly in the direction of the play area, Daniel and Kirsten eagerly following her lead.

  Long legs enabled RK to cover a considerable distance along the beach at a relatively brisk pace, despite a number of stops, to watch the waves and pick up and marvel at the fascinating shells proliferate on the beach.

  At the same time, P.C. Prettyman did his utmost to engineer an accidental meeting place. He had followed his quarry’s progress, through binoculars, from a vantage point on the clifftop. He planned to overtake RK, hidden from view by gorse bushes that grew on the cliff, as RK rounded the promontory of the cove and ascended the steps that brought walkers onto the clifftop coastal path. To this end, as RK was climbing up the steps, the young constable ran fifty yards or so further along the path, passed the steps then, stopped, turned and slowly ambled back towards them. He struggled hard with the deceit of this situation but orders had been given and he was expected to carry them out.

  In a short space of time RK appeared at the top of the steps just ahead of him on the clifftop path.

  My word, how did she get up so quickly? Prettyman asked himself. She? Where on earth had that thought sprung from?

  “Hello there! Mind if I join you?” Dan Prettyman’s lengthy strides brought him swiftly to RK’s side.

  “Please do,” invited RK amiably, continuing to scan the panorama before them in amazement. Then, with arms sweeping expansively to encompass the scene said, “What an incredible view.”

  “Yes, it is,” Dan agreed, watching the movement closely.
Oh my goodness, she really is a woman, he thought, I’m going to have to tread carefully here.

  “Everywhere I look in this village I encounter surprise upon surprise.”

  “You’re quite a surprise, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “No bike and no leathers!”

  “I’ve left them at the Ship Inn car park. Anyway, I do have a pair of perfectly good legs. I learned to use them at a young age, you know,” RK grinned at him engagingly. The look completely disarmed him. Why ever do the Sergeant and Harbour Master think this person is a threat to national security or is involved in smuggling activities?

  “But why the disguise?”

  “Disguise?”

  “Leathers etcetera.”

  “Oh, it’s such fun to have an air of mystery about my persona. I love to watch people’s faces as they try to figure out what I am.”

  “The way you look doesn’t give much of a clue, in fact, quite the reverse.”

  “Depends who’s doing the looking. Adults struggle but children have absolutely no problem.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, the Jenner girls knew straight away. The boys, at first, took more notice of the bike than me and made the usual association.”

  “So, no real intent to deceive?”

  “No, this is me. People must accept me for who I am.”

  “Not who they perceive you to be?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone in the village thinks you’re a man.” RK’s rich laughter reverberated across the cliffs. Dan felt the sound must surely reach the harbour.

  “That’s the story of my life! My father wanted sons, he had four daughters. He gave us boys names, Philip, Michael, David and Keith and has treated us as such all our lives. Mum tagged on the ‘a’ to each name so we became Philipa, Michaela, Davina and me. I’m mechanically minded like motorbikes and dress accordingly. People make assumptions when they see the bike and leathers, and of course, I am taller than most girls. There aren’t many people I look up to.” Her eyes sparkled with playful humour as she looked up at the lanky policeman.