‘Great, well I was thinking one night next week perhaps?’
‘Absolutely,’ nodded Bunty.
‘Saturday OK with you?’ Jasmine suggested, preferring the weekend so at least Robin wouldn’t be working the next day, which then reminded her to mention he’d be there too.
‘Saturday it is,’ replied Bunty, then added with a sly grin. ‘I take it I won’t be the only guest?’ Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
‘Er… actually no, I’ve invited Robin along, too,’ said Jasmine, frowning slightly. Why was Bunty looking so playful? And more to the point, how had she guessed about Robin being invited?
‘I thought he might be there.’ Bunty gave a knowing smile and arched an eyebrow.
‘Sorry?’ replied Jasmine rather confused.
‘Getting along nicely, are you?’
‘Well… yes, I thought it would be neighbourly to include him,’ answered Jasmine.
‘Of course, darling, of course,’ chuckled Bunty. Then, changing the subject completely, she reached out to one of the photographs on the table. ‘Perry,’ she blurted out. ‘His name was Perry.’ Her eyes filled with emotion. Jasmine sat in silence, not quite knowing what to say. ‘But he sailed away,’ she murmured to herself. Jasmine coughed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Anyway,’ said Bunty, quickly snapping out of her reverie. ‘Saturday sounds lovely. I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Good,’ said Jasmine, relieved that Bunty was back in the room. For a moment she’d thought she had lost the old woman, she seemed so distant and vulnerable, not at all her usual self.
Driving home, Jasmine was pondering the man’s name Bunty had revealed: Perry. Quite an unusual name. Then she reflected on her other words,but he sailed away.
She also remembered the anchor Robin had found in his trunk – he’d obviously been connected to the sea in some way. Jasmine’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. A man named Perry, with sailing connections. Why did that sound so familiar…
Robin and Jack stood at the bar ashen-faced.
‘Right, lads, what can I get you?’ asked Ned the landlord.
‘Two pints of Dizzy Blonde please, Ned,’ replied Jack.
Once served, they went to find a quiet corner, away from the hustle and bustle of the pub. Both sat in silence, drinking their beer, until Robin heaved a sigh.
‘What do you think is going to happen now?’ He looked at Jack for the answer. They’d just been to the police station to report all that Robin had uncovered. The officer in charge had listened intently, interested in everything they had to say. He had paid particular attention to the photos on Robin’s phone and asked for him to send them onto the constabulary email account. He had clearly taken the pair of them extremely seriously, recording Adrian’s workplace address as well as Jasmine’s home address. Finally, once the police officer was happy with their version of events, he took their contact details and they left the station feeling somewhat dazed.
‘I think they’re going to get Adrian in for questioning, can’t see what else could happen,’ Jack said, finishing his pint. He tipped his head towards Robin’s glass. ‘Fancy another?’
‘I’ll get these,’ said Robin, getting up from his chair.
Although knowing he’d absolutely done the right thing, he couldn’t help but worry about how all this was going to affect Jasmine. He, more than most, had seen how she was beginning to blossom, how she had seemed to be settling into Samphire Bay. He pictured her laughing that morning they’d gone swimming in the sea, how joyful and bright she’d been. Then he pictured her sat opposite him talking animatedly when he’d cooked her dinner that evening. How she’d just got on with renovating her cottage, with a cheery, positive disposition. Would this revelation change all that? Would it reopen a deep wound and suffocate all her positivity?
‘What’s up, Robin? You’re looking damned serious mate,’ Ned said from behind the bar.
‘Same again thanks, Ned.’ Robin offered a half smile, but no explanation. He could hardly tell the pub landlord his troubles.But you need to tell Jasmine, said the voice of reason inside his head.
Meanwhile Jasmine was sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open. She had spent the past hour searching the website of Carston Marina, whereMoonshinehad been moored. She had also searched various canal and narrowboat Facebook pages. She and Tom had been members of the various groups when living onMoonshineand the pages had proved extremely useful, being novices, to have a forum where they could query or discuss aspects of narrowboat living. Some of the members were very experienced and had a lot of good advice to offer. It had also been handy when buying and selling boat equipment.
She and Tom had needed a manual water pump and had looked online to find a good second-hand one. Luckily, one was for sale via the Carston Marina website. Jasmine remembered the owners name, Perry. Could there be a connection?
Not having much to go off, Jasmine had scoured Facebook, page after page, with all things related to canals and narrowboat living, eyes running across each member’s name, but there wasn’t anyone by the name of Perry. Surely he had to be somewhere? If he had used the Carston Marina’s website, then he must have moored there at some point, or at least have some connection to it. She tried going back to the marina’s Facebook group page, this time scrolling way back to when they had bought the water pump, over three years ago. It took a while, backtracking to the period she wanted. Various photographs of fellow narrowboaters flashed before her; stunning sunsets in fire-lit skies, colourful boats chugging serenely along the canal, festive deck parties, barbeques… and there was one, a group of older men huddled together round a wood burner, clasping tankards of ale. They were celebrating someone’s birthday, aHappy 70th!banner was displayed in the background. Under the picture read the caption, ‘Great birthday party last night. Big thanks to Geoff, Brian, Perry and Trevor.’ Perry! At last, she had stumbled across the name.
Jasmine’s mind went into overdrive. This Perry was the right age to be Bunty’s man. She clicked on the photograph and enlarged it as much as possible, studying the four men. She homed in on the third man in the group, assuming this would be Perry, in name order. Did this look like the man in the photographs Robin found? It was hard to tell, obviously fifty-odd years on, but he still had a sense of style about him, with his jaunty neckerchief and granddad shirt. Or was she just clutching at straws? His grey hair was thick and quite long with a slight wave to it. He definitely had an air of charisma about him. Almost a nomadic magnetism, she thought to herself with a giggle.
Then a bright idea struck her. If Perry had a narrowboat, she might be able to trace him. She quickly went onto the website for the register of canal boats, Canal Plan. All she knew was his first name. The search needed a full name, or at least the name of the boat. Refusing to give in, Jasmine used her initiative. Perry was a fairly uncommon name, could he have used it when naming his boat? It was possible, people did incorporate their name. In any case it was worth a try. Jasmine typed in the name ‘Perry’ on the search tab. A list of names came up:Periwinkle, Peregrine’s Place, Peri-PeriandThe Merry Perry.
Her eyes scanned each name and she clicked on every one to be thorough.Periwinklewas a brand new boat, so that was ruled out.Peregrine’s Placewas owned by a Todd Walker, maybe he’d either inherited the boat, or had bought it without renaming it?Peri-Periwas a Portuguese floating restaurant. Then cameThe Merry Perry, owned by a Perry Scholar. Yes! What’s more, his address wasn’t a million miles away either, it was Lancaster. Could this be Bunty’s Perry?
Chapter 17
