Page 67 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘Damn and blast it!’ A familiar male voice carried over to her from the jetty.

A man wearing a life jacket over his sweatshirt was sitting in an inflatable boat and muttering crossly to himself.

‘Patrick?’ Liz stood up to take a closer look. ‘Is that you?’

The man looked over to her and waved. ‘Liz! Hello, you’re up and about early.’

‘Couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?’

He grinned. ‘I couldn’t sleep either. I’ve been dying to take her for a spin and thought I’d better do it early before the water gets busy.’

She walked down the pontoon to join him. ‘I didn’t know you even had a boat.’

‘I didn’t until yesterday.’ Patrick wiped his hands on a rag. ‘Can you believe it? I’ve lived on an estuary for all these years and never set sail on my own before. I’ve relied on the ferry or water taxi until now. And I think I might be relying on it again at this rate.’ His voice was light, but his normally easy-going features were wrinkled with frustration.

‘Having trouble?’

He chucked down the rag and sighed. ‘Is it possible to flood the engine in these things?’

She laughed. ‘Want a hand?’

‘Yes, please, if you …’ He interrupted himself with a bark of laughter. ‘I was going to say if you know anything about boats, but, frankly, the chance of you knowing less than me is virtually impossible. So, yes please.’

Patrick extended a hand to help her climb down into the inflatable boat.

‘Welcome aboard the Ecsta-Sea,’ he said with a flourish. ‘Not my choice, I hasten to add. I might consider a rebrand. To Mi-sery.’

‘You can’t do that!’ she said, feigning horror. ‘It’s bad luck.’

‘I certainly don’t need any more of that,’ he grumbled. ‘Can’t get the old girl started.’

‘You’ve got fuel?’

‘Um. Yes.’

She hid a smile; he didn’t sound too sure. ‘Well, that’s a good start. Let’s have a look.’

She checked the fuel pipe was properly connected to the engine, squeezed the bellows to make sure it was primed and then popped open the cover concealing the fuel tank.

‘I already bow down to your superior knowledge,’ said Patrick.

‘Save your praise until I’ve got the motor running,’ she replied, secretly pleased to have impressed him.

The fuel line was secure, so she felt for the air screw. Closed. She smiled to herself; that was the culprit. Liz unscrewed it and dropped the lid again.

‘The fuel tank has an air screw which should be open, otherwise it creates a vacuum and the engine won’t start.’

‘Of course. I knew that.’ Patrick rubbed his nose and they both laughed at his obvious lie.

‘Easy mistake. Try now.’

This time, the engine started easily.

‘I’m glad you turned up or I’d have been swimming home,’ said Patrick.

‘Come on then,’ she said, slinging on the spare life jacket. ‘Let’s take her out.’

‘Now?’ He looked pleased, but glanced back over to the bench where she’d been sitting. ‘You aren’t busy?’