flat really. We’ve both been too busy.’
‘And today you’re not?’
‘No. I’m redundant,’ Ellie said, wishing she’d waited a bit longer before announcing it so bluntly, but the words had come out of her mouth of their own accord.
‘Ah. Well I’ve got some job news too.’
‘Oh god – you’re not redundant too?’ If he was, the flat would definitely have to go. No way could they afford to keep it on. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’ve been promoted to Branch Manager.’
‘Oh that’s brilliant,’ Ellie said, raising her glass in a toast. Judging by the long hours Rod had been putting in recently, she’d guessed the housing market was picking up. The prestigious estate agency he worked for must have realised how good he was at selling houses. At least he’d be earning more money while she found another job. ‘Which branch?’
‘Manchester.’
‘Where?’
‘Manchester.’
Ellie waved her hand in disbelief. ‘I heard you the first time.’ She picked up the merlot bottle and topped up her glass. ‘When did this all kick off?’
‘Couple of weeks ago. Nothing definite until this week.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘No point until I knew for definite.’
‘When do you start?’
‘First of the month.’
‘That’s less than a fortnight away.’
Rod nodded. ‘Yep. Lot of things to sort before then.’
‘But I don’t want to live in Manchester.’ Ellie took a drink of her wine as the silence between them lengthened.
‘You’re not coming,’ Rod said flatly. ‘You just have to move out of here.’
‘What?’
‘You couldn’t afford the rent without me even if you were working. Now you’re redundant,’ Rod shrugged.
‘But what about us? Are we breaking up because you’re moving to Manchester? Or were you taking the opportunity to break up with me?’
Rod’s silence and the look on his face confirmed Ellie had hit on the truth with her last question.
‘Why didn’t you tell me straight? I thought you loved me? We could have talked – still can.’
This time Rod did answer her. ‘No point. I’ve met someone else who is coming to Manchester with me.’
BB
Being a sociable kind of man, when Braxton Brael saw the woman from the kiosk and the captain of the Queen of the River in the hotel bar when he walked in, he didn’t hesitate to stroll over and say ‘Hi. Can I buy you guys a drink?’
Sabine shook her head and smiled at him. ‘Not for me, thanks. Got things to do when I get home. Too many glasses of wine and I’ll be asleep.’
‘Half a lager for me would be very nice of you,’ Owen said.
Braxton turned to the barman and ordered two lagers. ‘There you go, Skipper. Have to tell you how much I enjoyed my jaunt up the river. Learnt a lot from your commentary.’
‘Discovered any relations yet?’ Sabine asked.
Braxton shook his head. ‘Nope not yet, ma’am, but I’m working on it. Got a couple of other things to sort out as well.’ He extended his hand to her. ‘Guess I’d better introduce myself. I’m Braxton Brael – known as BB to my friends.’
‘Hello, BB. I’m Sabine and this is Owen.’
‘You in town for long?’ Owen asked.
‘Planning on staying for summer. Looking to rent an apartment, buy a boat and find those relatives!’
‘What sort of boat?’ Owen asked.
‘I’m pretty flexible on that score but a forty-foot wooden sailing ketch would fit the bill perfectly,’ BB said. ‘I’ll just have to see what turns up during summer.’
‘You planning on sailing back to America?’
‘Sure am. Will need a crew, of course, but first I’ve got to find the boat. Would sure appreciate any contacts you could give me.’
‘You need to talk to my brother Johnnie,’ Sabine said, getting down from her bar stool. ‘He’s a yacht deliverer. Gets a lot of work from various agencies. He’ll know if there are any suitable boats around. I’ll mention you to him. Right, got to go. Thanks for the drink, Owen, see you tomorrow. Nice to meet you properly, BB. Good luck with all your searches. See you around.’
‘Appreciate that,’ BB said, turning to Owen as Sabine left. ‘Nice lady.’
Owen nodded. ‘One of the best. I’m afraid I’m off too. Can I refill that for you before I go?’ he asked, looking at the glass in BB’s hand.
‘No thanks. I’m on my way into the restaurant for dinner,’ BB said lifting the glass to his lips and finishing his drink before making his way through to the restaurant.
After dinner, BB handed his room key to the receptionist in the foyer and went out. A walk around town before bed would be good. He stood for a few moments, deciding which way to go before crossing the road. The tide was coming in and the small boats in the inner harbour, moored closely together, were nudging fenders as the water shifted them. The evening air was cool and the gusts of wind making the river choppy had him zipping up his fleece and pulling the collar higher as he crossed the road to the embankment, turning in the direction of the Higher Ferry.
Bit late this evening to explore the marina at this end of town he’d glimpsed on his river trip, but at least he’d be able to check if there was a yachting agency he could register with. Glancing up at the Royal Naval College, sitting on the hill dominating the town, the silver-framed photo of Grandpa Millman aged nineteen and his brother, Uncle Lance, twenty-one that stood on the bureau in his mother’s bedroom came into his mind. Taken before they’d left for Europe, both stood tall and proud in their GI uniforms, arms around each other’s shoulders. So sad that Lance hadn’t survived the war, Grandpa Millman had always spoken of his big brother with affection and admitted he still missed him. Had either of them ever been inside that wonderful building? Or had they spent all their time out in one of the field camps?
After locating the yachting agency and checking opening hours, BB turned and walked back to the hotel. He’d promised to Skype Jessica this evening at ten o’clock his time.
Jessica was already online when he opened his laptop and signed in.
‘Hi, Bro! How’s it going? Found us any wealthy cousins yet?’
‘Barely started really, Jess but it’s great here. You’d love it. No sign of any cousins yet – wealthy or otherwise.’
‘Shame. You have, of course, taken some photos?’
‘Yep. I’ll email them tomorrow. How’s Mom?’
‘She’s okay-ish. She’s finally started to go through the last of Grandmother Mary’s boxes of papers.’
‘Must be hard for her. Found anything interesting?’
‘Not yet. Lots of letters from both Grandpa Randy and Uncle Lance and a few other bits, but we have unearthed a box of stuff that appears to be from WWII. I’m going to go through that as soon as I have a moment. Feel a bit guilty – it’s a bit like reading someone’s private diary but it’s fascinating.’
‘All