the jetty, ‘so it is true!’
‘What is true?’ Sidonie queried stiffly.
‘That you’re going to do it.’ Mike Brennan put his bottle down and studied her quizzically. He had donned a faded blue T-shirt but otherwise looked exactly the same.
‘I don’t know what you mean—how did you know anyway?’ She stared at him nonplussed.
‘I received a visit from the local constabulary a short while ago,’ he said gravely. ‘Who informed me that I’d better take the greatest care of you or else!’
Sidonie blinked. ‘Jim?’
‘Jim,’ he agreed with some irony.
She tried to shrug offhandedly. ‘It’s only what a sensible person would do, I should imagine.’
‘Oh, of course.’
‘Have I offended you, Mr Brennan?’ Sidonie then said tartly.
‘Not in the slightest, Miss—er—’
‘Hill. It’s Sidonie Hill—’
‘Ah, I might have known.’
‘What?’
‘That you would be called Sidonie or Prudence or Camilla, although I would have bet on Prudence.’
‘I have offended you,’ Sidonie said flatly.
‘Why should I be offended? As a matter of fact Jim often stops by for beer.’
‘Then why are you going out of your way to insult me?’
‘I don’t think,’ he said musingly, ‘it’s an insult to be called prudent by name or nature.’
‘It most certainly is,’ she replied vigorously, ‘the way you do it! Look,’ she added, ‘I’m very hot, I’m tired, I’ve been carting my bag around for hours and it wouldn’t be far from the truth to say that I’m nearly at the end of my tether one way or another, so do you want me to crew on your wretched boat or do you not?’
He regarded her entirely enigmatically for a long moment—her heated face, the damp curly wisps of hair coming adrift from her bun, the quite inappropriate clothes she was wearing. Then he surprised the life out of her by saying, ‘It would be an honour to have you crew on my boat, Sidonie Hill.’ And he vaulted over the handrail lightly and landed beside her on the jetty. ‘Welcome aboard. I’ll bring your bag up.’
* * *
‘Well?’
Sidonie looked around again. The interior of Morning Mist was deeply comfortable and wood-panelled with a jade-green carpet and padded velour seats in a matching jade with a tiny black dot. One such seat curved around a dining table and opposite was another, sofa-length and strategically placed for viewing television. The galley was probably a cook’s dream with a long island bench separating it from the main living area. There were two sleeping cabins, one fore, one aft, and they both had showers and toilets. But, apart from all the dark-panelled and jade splendour, it looked lived-in. There were polished brass lamps and full bookshelves, there was a bowl of fruit on the island bench, a compact disc player beside the television, and several maps and familiar instruments strewn over the chart table.
Her eyes came back to rest on Mike Brennan’s face. ‘It’s very nice,’ she said briskly. ‘What instruments do you carry, Mr Brennan?’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I think you’d better call me Mike—uh—radar, GPS, auto-pilot; twenty-seven meg, VHF as well as Single Side Band for radios, Auto-Seaphone and the motor is a Gardiner.’
Sidonie’s grey eyes suddenly shone with enthusiasm. ‘Lovely,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I had something to do with a very old Gardiner once but it was a gem. GPS? Do you know I’ve always been fascinated by satellite navigation—I know the old salts think they’re expensive toys but I think it’s thrilling!’
He said nothing for a moment but there was no disguising the surprise in his eyes. ‘So you do know something about it?’
‘Quite a bit,’ she confided. ‘My boyfriend and I used to do a lot of sailing on Port Phillip Bay—that’s off Melbourne—’
‘I have had some experience of Port Phillip Bay,’ he murmured.
‘Then you’ll know it’s no kindergarten!’
‘Definitely not,’ he agreed and narrowed his eyes. ‘What does your boyfriend have to say about you doing this?’
Sidonie sobered. ‘He’s no longer my—that.’
‘Why?’
Sidonie stared at him haughtily. He shrugged and a wry smile twisted his lips. ‘You might as well tell me. What possible harm could it do?’
She frowned then said reluctantly, ‘I suppose you’re right—although I don’t think crewing means I should have to bare my heart to you or that kind of thing. I—’
‘By no means. OK, it’s up to you.’
Sidonie thought for a bit then she said matter-of-factly, ‘He fell in love with someone else, someone who was all the things I’m not, I guess, although she’s hopeless on boats, but then again...I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’ She shrugged ruefully. ‘It must be to do with having had an extremely trying day!’
Mike Brennan tried not to smile. ‘Do you drink?’ he queried.
‘Very rarely—what’s that got to do with it?’
‘Sometimes it helps. Why don’t you also take the weight off your feet?’ He pointed to a bar stool and went behind the island bench.
Which was how, several minutes later, Sidonie came to have in her hand a glass full of a lovely chilled white wine and before her on the bench a bowl of walnuts and olives.
Mike Brennan waited until she’d sipped some wine before he said, ‘How come it’s been such an unusually trying day?’
Sidonie put her glass down regretfully. ‘Well, I applied for a job up here—not precisely here but at a small outback school on a large cattle property. They seemed very impressed with my credentials and they paid for me to fly up for an interview so I—’ she paused and grimaced ‘—I rather assumed the job was in the bag so to speak.’
‘It wasn’t?’
She sighed. ‘They took one look at me and...came to the conclusion I wouldn’t suit although what they told me was I was over-qualified for it.’
‘Over-qualified to be a teacher?’
‘Yes. Well, I must admit I haven’t had a lot of experience at it,’ she said ruefully. ‘The one job I did have in that line—er—wasn’t entirely successful but I’m quite convinced the school was more to blame than I was.’
Several expressions chased through Mike Brennan’s blue eyes but he said soberly enough,
