Chapter 13
It was twilight as Perry drove to Samphire Bay. He was having dinner at Bunty’s this evening and was thoroughly looking forward to some company. He was still struggling with an empty house, devoid of Emma, made worse by the fact that his daughter had been so noisy that the silence was even more evident. Whether it be stomping up and down the stairs, banging doors or singing loudly, her presence was always known. Even when cooking a meal, pots and pans could be heard being bashed about, with the radio on in the background. Perry softly chuckled, hoping she didn’t make the same level of sound over at Felix Paschal’s place.
Now though, when she wasn’t there, he sorely missed listening to all the stomping and banging, but most of all her lovely voice. That, he could happily listen to all day. Out of sheer despondency, he dug out an old demo tape she’d made years ago. Emma had often laughed when playing it, saying her voice hadn’t been as good when she’d been a young teenager. True, her singing had improved after receiving some professional training, but there was no doubt she’d had a natural talent.
As he drove along the coastal road he saw Bunty and Jasmine’s cottages softly lit up in the distance. How cosy they looked standing on the edge of the bay, surrounded by such scenery. Even as the days grew longer, Samphire Bay still delivered stunning sunsets, casting burnt oranges and deep pinks across the inky still water. The place seemed magical to him. Not for the first time, Perry reflected on what could have been. Had Bunty’s father accepted him all those years ago… Still, it was no good mulling over the past and besides, had he not moved away from Samphire Bay he would never have met his late wife Valerie, or had Emma in his life, and that would have been a tragedy.
He parked outside the cottages and made his way up the garden path, waving at Jasmine over the hedge, who was still working in her studio. He knocked at Bunty’s door and stepped inside. The warmth from the wood burner was welcome, as was the smell of the casserole cooking in the oven.
‘In here!’ trilled Bunty.
Perry went into the lounge to join her. She was on the sofa surrounded by holiday brochures.
‘Hello there, what are you busy with?’ asked Perry, coming to sit down next to her.
‘I’ve decided, it’s time to have a holiday,’ Bunty announced, flicking through the glossy pages. ‘The cold weather can be so dreary, I’d love to have a break.’
Perry picked up a brochure at random and glanced at its cover. ‘Oh yes, anywhere in particular?’
‘Hmm, not sure yet.’ She frowned. ‘There’s so much choice.’
Perry nodded, whilst wondering if this holiday might include him. Not wanting to ask outright, he bided his time. His eyes clocked the countries Bunty was considering on the scattered brochures, Portugal, Egypt, Cyprus, blimey, even Dubai. He grimaced. All this was a far cry from the narrowboat holidays he enjoyed. For him, there was nothing better than sailing nonchalantly down a peaceful canal. It was good for the soul and gladdened his heart. He really could not understand why people put themselves through the stress of travelling abroad. The thought of queuing for hours in an airport, to be shackled into a tiny space next to strangers on a plane and frying under unbearable heat in some foreign country where nobody understood you, baffled him. Not when you had the calm and tranquillity of your own boat.
‘What do you think?’ Bunty showed him a folded page headed,Turkey – the land of eastern promise.
Perry’s eyes swept over it, then met hers.
‘Well?’ she urged.
‘It’s… not what I’d go for,’ he answered carefully.
‘Oh.’ Bunty paused, then asked, ‘What would you go for then?’
‘None of these countries,’ he replied with a grimace, pointing to all the brochures.
Bunty stared at him with a puzzled expression.
‘IfIwere to choose a holiday,’ he started to explain, ‘I’d stay in this country.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t be bothered driving and—’
‘On the boat,’ he interrupted.
‘Ah, yes, of course,’ she smiled, suddenly warming to the idea, but maybe not in winter.
Her reaction pleased him, but he sensed a degree of hesitation. He attempted to sell his idea further.
‘Holidaying on the boat is enchanting. It offers a great alternative to the hustle and bustle on land. You can enjoy snug evenings, visit waterside pubs with roaring log fires and wake up to the crisp, clean country air.’
Bunty was considering it, brow furrowed as she tapped a finger against her lips.
‘Where would we go?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Chester? We could go to the craft markets and a concert in the cathedral? Plus, there’s the historic tours and city walls.’ He refrained from saying he had previously done this with Valerie.
Bunty’s face lit up. ‘That would be lovely!’
‘So, you fancy a holiday aboardThe Merry Perrythen? You’d have a steady hand at the tiller.’ He raised a playful eyebrow.
