Five streets away, life was a different story. People were suited and booted, standing outside a wine bar drinking champagne. Posh cars lined the streets and the smell of expensive perfume had replaced the rancid odour of urine.
Bea blew out a long, shuddering breath. ‘I’m not judging the people that live in that part of town, and I’m aware sometimes circumstances put you in situations that make your life spiral out of control, but I’ve not felt that scared for quite some time.’
‘I know exactly what you mean, but seeing the place where Patsy once lived has made me think of a reason why she and my grandfather couldn’t be together. Let’s head back down to the river and I can tell you my theory.’
‘So why do you think they couldn’t be together?’ Bea asked as they walked, liking the fact that Nolan was still holding her hand as they walked along the street.
‘Back then there were different social rules and different classes couldn’t mix. In an ideal world, we wouldn’t have ever had any class distinctions and everyone would have the same access to education and jobs, but that’s never been the case.’ Nolan stopped in the middle of the payment and gestured to the wine bar behind them. ‘Do you think people in Clyde Square mix in the same social circles as the suited and booted?’
Bea looked at the long line of posh cars parked up the street and the people frequenting the tables outside the wine bar, all of whom were wearing designer clothes and drinking what looked like champagne. ‘No, I don’t suppose they do.’
‘Exactly. People unconsciously seek a similar dynamic to what they’re used to. It’s natural to want a partner that fits in with your social circle or family because otherwise there may be a clash over lifestyles. There’s also always the fear of being judged or even rejected.’
‘Interesting. Why do you think they were of different classes?’ asked Bea, intrigued by the theory.
‘Because I can’t see Clyde Square ever having been an affluent area, can you?’
Bea shook her head. ‘Maybe not.’
‘And my grandfather didn’t have to worry about money. Even though you may look at The Hemingway and think it’s not worth much, that was my grandfather’s decoy.’
‘What do you mean by decoy?’ asked Bea.
‘My grandfather owned all kinds of planes, trains and automobiles. I’m not exaggerating. He was a multi-millionaire.’
‘Woah! I wasn’t expecting that. Do you think Patsy knew?’
‘From what I know, that wasn’t information he bandied about. He kept his cards very close to his chest because he felt he had to be wary of anyone suddenly wanting to become his friend. If they knew about his money, he thought they’d want him for what they might get, not for who he was.’
‘It must be awful living like that, even if you have the benefits that come with having money.’
‘That’s why he chose to travel the waterways in The Hemingway. He discovered that people accepted him for himself if it appeared he didn’t have anything. He was never a show-off. He made his fortune by accident but still worked hard all his life. He didn’t take anything for granted and donated a lot of money to charity.’
‘Sounds like a very kind man, but surely if he was keen on Patsy he would have told her. They could have worked it out…’
‘They were both really young – my grandfather was in his very early twenties – and from what he told me, I believe Patsy was in her late teens.’
‘Why can’t life be simple?’
‘Because then it would be boring,’ replied Nolan, crossing over the road towards the jetty and leading her towards the river taxi.
Roman tilted his cap as they headed towards them. ‘And? Did you discover anything?’ he asked, as they climbed on board.
Nolan shook his head. ‘Unfortunately not.’
* * *
This time they enjoyed the views from the back of the boat and it wasn’t long before they arrived back at The Little Blue Boathouse.
‘It’s a lovely night. I’ve got a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge if you fancy a drink. Unless you’ve got other plans?’ asked Bea.
‘No plans whatsoever.’
Standing at the end of the jetty, Bea smiled. That was what she’d hoped he would say. ‘What’s the plan now regarding Patsy?’
‘I think I’ll ask around and then after that … I’m not really sure. If I can’t trace her, the letter will never be read.’
Bea nodded and pointed to a wrought iron table and chairs by the edge of the riverbank. ‘Shall we sit there? I’ll nip in and get the wine and two glasses.’
