‘You’re probably right, George. I guess I’m just feeling the strain. It’s one thing to hear there’s going to be a trendy eating place on your doorstep and another to watch it happen.’
‘Ain’t there yet, Miss Harriet,’ said George kindly. ‘We can all dream big. Doesn’t mean to say that it’s going to come true. There’s a lot of money being spent tarting that old place up, but they’ve still got to fill it when it’s done, eh?’
Harry nodded and remembered all the times when George had been there for her, handling all problems with equanimity; from scraped knees when she was a little girl, to letting her sob unashamedly when she missed her dad. Except for the odd awkward pat on the back, there was nothing demonstrative about their relationship; no hugs or kisses, no sense in any way that George had ever tried to fill her father’s shoes. Just his simple constant presence, the one continuous thread in her life.
‘George,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘when you’re checking the pontoons tomorrow, if you come across any of the owners will you have a quiet word and see if you can get some of them to pay up?’
She heard him sigh. ‘Can do, Miss Harriet. Can do. But we’ve got to start thinking about the future. A few bob here and there isn’t going to make all that much difference, is it? We need to get in owners who can pay. And we need to put the prices up too; they’ve been dirt cheap for too long. The thing is,’ he continued, ‘if you carry on like this, you won’t need to worry about someone else putting you out of business. At this rate you’ll do it for yourself.’
Hmm, thought Harry. That was the other thing she remembered about George; years of him always thinking he knew best. Most of the time it took the form of one of his own peculiar pearls of wisdom: ‘Any fool can walk into trouble, Miss Harriet. Takes a wise man to know when to steer clear’; or ‘Better a sea cow you know than one you don’t’ – whatever that meant. Occasionally it took the form of a short sharp dressing-down – like the time he’d caught wind of a brief fling she’d had with one of the few eligible yachtsmen to fetch up at Watling’s: ‘Ain’t proper, Miss Harriet. That’s all I’m saying.’ This, delivered with a face like thunder, had certainly made her toes curl. But once in a blue moon, and especially in the old days when he used to drink, George could really get up on his hind legs and feel he had the right to lecture her.
‘It’s just a temporary problem, George,’ she told him, hoping that the exasperation in her voice would shut him up.
‘So why ’ave you got me crawling round perfectly good pontoons in case someone sues?’ he retorted, coming back for more.
‘Health and safety, apart from anything else.’ She folded her arms, although he probably couldn’t see in the dark. ‘And, as I said, I think that last batch of timber may have been faulty.’
‘Nature is responsible for lengthwise cracks and Man is to blame for transverse and like much of Man’s mistakes they’ll be harmful in the end. Them cracks is lengthwise, Miss Harriet, so nothing to fret about.’
That was another thing about George; he could be very smug. ‘Remind me of that, George, when you fall through one. In the meantime I’d be very grateful if you could just do what I ask.’
‘What I’m told, you mean,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s all right, Miss Harriet, I know my place. Well, I best get some kip. Looks as if I’ll be crawling around on my hands and knees tomorrow. Ain’t easy at my age, but if those are my orders I know better than to question them.’
‘Yes, and if you squeeze any money out of anyone I’ll even be able to pay you!’
George pulled up the collar of his ancient woollen coat, the one that was so redolent with the smell of him that Harry felt he was still in the room on the rare occasions he took it off. ‘Pay as well, Miss Harriet?’ he sniffed. ‘There was
‘Ain’t there yet, Miss Harriet,’ said George kindly. ‘We can all dream big. Doesn’t mean to say that it’s going to come true. There’s a lot of money being spent tarting that old place up, but they’ve still got to fill it when it’s done, eh?’
Harry nodded and remembered all the times when George had been there for her, handling all problems with equanimity; from scraped knees when she was a little girl, to letting her sob unashamedly when she missed her dad. Except for the odd awkward pat on the back, there was nothing demonstrative about their relationship; no hugs or kisses, no sense in any way that George had ever tried to fill her father’s shoes. Just his simple constant presence, the one continuous thread in her life.
‘George,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘when you’re checking the pontoons tomorrow, if you come across any of the owners will you have a quiet word and see if you can get some of them to pay up?’
She heard him sigh. ‘Can do, Miss Harriet. Can do. But we’ve got to start thinking about the future. A few bob here and there isn’t going to make all that much difference, is it? We need to get in owners who can pay. And we need to put the prices up too; they’ve been dirt cheap for too long. The thing is,’ he continued, ‘if you carry on like this, you won’t need to worry about someone else putting you out of business. At this rate you’ll do it for yourself.’
Hmm, thought Harry. That was the other thing she remembered about George; years of him always thinking he knew best. Most of the time it took the form of one of his own peculiar pearls of wisdom: ‘Any fool can walk into trouble, Miss Harriet. Takes a wise man to know when to steer clear’; or ‘Better a sea cow you know than one you don’t’ – whatever that meant. Occasionally it took the form of a short sharp dressing-down – like the time he’d caught wind of a brief fling she’d had with one of the few eligible yachtsmen to fetch up at Watling’s: ‘Ain’t proper, Miss Harriet. That’s all I’m saying.’ This, delivered with a face like thunder, had certainly made her toes curl. But once in a blue moon, and especially in the old days when he used to drink, George could really get up on his hind legs and feel he had the right to lecture her.
‘It’s just a temporary problem, George,’ she told him, hoping that the exasperation in her voice would shut him up.
‘So why ’ave you got me crawling round perfectly good pontoons in case someone sues?’ he retorted, coming back for more.
‘Health and safety, apart from anything else.’ She folded her arms, although he probably couldn’t see in the dark. ‘And, as I said, I think that last batch of timber may have been faulty.’
‘Nature is responsible for lengthwise cracks and Man is to blame for transverse and like much of Man’s mistakes they’ll be harmful in the end. Them cracks is lengthwise, Miss Harriet, so nothing to fret about.’
That was another thing about George; he could be very smug. ‘Remind me of that, George, when you fall through one. In the meantime I’d be very grateful if you could just do what I ask.’
‘What I’m told, you mean,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s all right, Miss Harriet, I know my place. Well, I best get some kip. Looks as if I’ll be crawling around on my hands and knees tomorrow. Ain’t easy at my age, but if those are my orders I know better than to question them.’
‘Yes, and if you squeeze any money out of anyone I’ll even be able to pay you!’
George pulled up the collar of his ancient woollen coat, the one that was so redolent with the smell of him that Harry felt he was still in the room on the rare occasions he took it off. ‘Pay as well, Miss Harriet?’ he sniffed. ‘There was
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