‘Nice and busy, the way I like it. More people are going up with another storey or converting existing loft space rather than moving house.’
‘Are you still hoping to set up on your own one day?’
‘You’ve got a good memory.’ He smiled across at her, his arm resting on the table so close his hand was in danger of touching hers if she put her glass down. ‘Right now it’s easy to be on someone else’s payroll while I learn the trade. I want to make sure I know what I’m doing before I start my own business, if I ever take the leap.’
She wasn’t sure whether to probe too much but braved asking, ‘Did you ever think about leaving Tumbleweed House? I wondered if you’d want a change.’
‘Because of the memories, you mean.’
‘I just thought…’
‘That starting over is easier, that it would make me forget everything that went on? No, not so easy. And my dad took enough from our family. He was the one who put an end to the elderberry business, he sold off land, he took a lot personally from Mum, me, my brother Daniel. It was time to take back, I wanted to stay.’
‘Good for you.’ He was strong, not just to look at, but emotionally too. ‘How is Daniel?’
‘He left and never looked back. I don’t hear from him.’ He was watching her. ‘You want to say something, I can tell.’
‘I’d have given anything for a sibling, growing up. Being an only child can be lonely.’
‘Being with a sibling who’s a total nightmare can be worse, believe me.’
‘Maybe he has regrets too, it’s never too late to put it all behind you.’
‘Not that simple.’
She didn’t want to wind him up and talking about Daniel had always done that, so she let it drop. ‘Your mum must’ve been pleased you took over the house.’
‘Yeah,’ he smiled, seemingly grateful she’d dropped the subject of his brother. ‘And now she’s able to visit and remember the better times, those with her own parents when it was theirs, with us as little kids when Dad was away. I worked a lot of overtime to pay for the house and keep the remaining land, and I’m glad I did.’
They were getting dangerously close to talking about their relationship and the way it ended so suddenly and Melissa didn’t want to do that, so she turned the focus back to the reason they were even here. ‘I expect the marina today is our last shot. And it’s a very long shot, but thank you for humouring me and coming here.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’ And something in his voice told her it really was.
She sipped her drink, down to the end with the lemon slice and ice cubes rattling around. ‘If we don’t get anywhere, I’m going to have to ask Barney outright.’
‘Jeez, you’re brave.’
‘Time’s marching on and I don’t want to leave without talking properly to him, I want him to know he can share anything with us, that we’ll help in whatever way we can. Honestly, the way he talks to everyone, it surprises me he’s been able to keep anything secret.’
With a laugh, Harvey agreed. They finished their drinks and talked some more about other locals in the Cove, those who had moved on since Melissa was last there, others who had moved in, the local school around the corner that had such a good rating it brought newcomers to the village. And by the time they realised the man, Bill, should be back at the marina, even darker clouds were ganging up overhead and the rain had started.
They made a run for it, all the way from the pub to the marina. Laughing away, they piled into the office out of the inclement weather and must have looked like a pair of loonies. These men didn’t look like a bit of rain changed anything for them, they were working inside and outside as usual, Melissa could see them. One man was sanding the side of a boat, another appeared to be fixing up a sail, someone else was hammering the side of a tiny boat. None of them cared about the rain or the wind.
‘I understand you’re looking for me.’ Bill came over. He was a jolly-looking chap and he put down a spanner before extending a hand to shake Melissa’s and then Harvey’s. His skin spoke of the practical side of his job, the dryness from working with materials and tools all day combined with time out on the water.
‘We’re trying to find out about a friend of ours who lived in this village. Barney Walters,’ said Harvey.
Bill shrugged. His clothing – jeans and a big fisherman jumper with enough holes that it could be worn in warmer temperatures – was weathered like many of the boats beyond the shed, the one inside that was being worked on and spruced up, the smell of varnish filling the air. ‘Sorry, not heard of him.’
‘He spent a lot of time hanging around this marina, we just thought someone might remember him,’ Melissa tried. Please don’t let this be a wasted journey. Even if the people round here didn’t know what had happened with Barney and Lois, they might shed some light on Barney back then and perhaps lead them to someone who did. As they’d sat in the pub Melissa realised the village was very much like Heritage Cove, locals chatting in groups, anyone who came in shaking hands and greeting others like they were part of a tight-knit community.
‘What year are we talking about?’ Bill asked. ‘I’ve been here donkeys.’
‘It would’ve been around fifty years ago, maybe a little less,’ Melissa told him.
He whistled. ‘That’s a long time, even for an old goat like me. This yard changed hands some forty-five years ago. I’ve been on board for all of those plus five or six years before.’
‘Is it family-owned?’
