Prologue
Man Killed in Hit-and-Run Accident
Lancashire Constabulary are appealing for any eyewitnesses inconnection to the death of Thomas Boyd, who was killed in a hit-and-runaccident on Friday night. The collision took place at approximatelyeleven p.m. outside The Mariners public house on the high street inCarston. A white transit van collided into Mr Boyd, rendering him deadon impact. The vehicle sped off in a northerly direction.
Mr Boyd leaves a widow, Jasmine. Police are urging the public to comeforward with any information.
Lancashire Evening Standard, 9 October 2021
Chapter 1
Carrying the copper urn with great care, Jasmine stepped out onto the deck. She gently knelt down on the wooden floor and leant over the side of the narrowboat. Lifting the lid, she slowly tipped the ashes into the canal.
‘Goodbye, Tom,’ she croaked, face crumpled in grief. She watched the remains hit the dark green water and sink below. A slight puff of grey smoke wafted above. Was it her imagination, or had the shape of a heart formed? Then it, too, faded and disappeared.
Gone. Tom was gone. The love of her life, best friend and husband all rolled into one magical, perfect person, was in fact no more. He’d been snatched cruelly from her in an instant. It was inconceivable; too hideously tragic to be true. Except itwastrue. Her best mate – hersoulmate– had vanished from her life forever. She was alone, a widow at the age of twenty-nine.
Jasmine turned to look around their beloved boat, aptly namedMoonshine, on account of the first glimpse she and Tom had had of her…
It had been on a tipsy walk back from the pub one Saturday night. They had taken a shortcut home, past the marina and boatyard, when a full moon had shone a silver beam directly over the narrowboat.
‘Oh look!’ cried Jasmine, pointing towards the rather dishevelled, lonely looking vessel, begging for attention. They both moved towards the wire fencing of the yard to peep further in. On closer inspection, they spotted a sign marked:
Marina repossession – to be sold as seen via sealed bids above theguide price
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ asked Jasmine, followed by a hiccup.
‘What, you mean buy it?’ replied Tom, half laughing. ‘We don’t even know what the guide price is.’
‘Bound to be cheaper than the deposit for a house,’ she retorted.
True, thought Tom,but a narrowboat?They didn’t know the first thing about life on the water, only the rather idyllic sense of freedom one assumed when seeing brightly coloured boats chug merrily down a tranquil canal. But then again, he conceded, surely that’s just what narrowboats did: peacefully meander their way down the water, with no fuss, taking their time? He was suddenly hit by a mix of realisation and curiosity. Evidently, so was Jasmine.
‘Just think, Tom, we could salvage this boat and make it into something really special!’ She spoke with excitement. He looked back into the yard and narrowed his eyes in contemplation. ‘The money we’ve saved so far for a house deposit would surely more than cover the guide price?’
‘We don’t know that, Jas,’ Tom cautioned. ‘Plus, look at the state of it. It’s going to need one hell of a renovation.’
‘But even so!’ countered Jasmine with gusto. ‘It won’t cost the same as a house, or the rent we’re dishing out. Just think,’ her eyes glazed over dreamily, ‘our very own floating home…’
Tom stared at his wife and realised at that precise point that her mind was made up. When those big brown eyes held that wistful look, he knew there was nothing and no one who could persuade her otherwise. He ruffled her dark blonde bobbed hair.
‘We’ll come back here tomorrow, make some enquires,’ he tried to appease.
Typically, Jasmine wasn’t to be fobbed off so lightly.
‘I’ll go online when we get home, do some research.’
Tom smiled at her enthusiasm, but was a Saturday night, after a few beers, the best time to be making such an important decision? He was the more practical, sensible of the two. Whilst Tom loved Jasmine’s joie de vivre, he was always the one to counsel patience, ever the calming influence to her impetuous, spur-of-the-moment ideas.
Yet, as Jasmine fired up the laptop and went on the marina’s website when they arrived home, he too couldn’t help but feel a frizzle of excitement. They soon found the advert for the repossession. Reading it in full told them that the guide price was £12,000 and the ‘Closing date for all sealed bids to be received by Allied Yacht Brokers at twelve p.m. 1 May 2018. The specification of this boat may be incorrect, as we are not in possession of the full details.’
Tom’s hands ran through his auburn curls nervously. Should they? The first of May was tomorrow. Was this fate? As if reading his mind, Jasmine’s eyes widened.
‘This was meant to be, Tom! We weremeantto see that poor narrowboat tonight and save it.’
‘Poornarrowboat?’ laughed Tom.
‘Yes, it’s crying out for love and attention,’ she replied, then folded her arms almost in defiance, ‘and we’re the people to do it.’
