Falling For The Ferryman

ROMANTIC SHORT STORY BY ALISON CARTER

Becca knew she shouldn’t trust Jamie, despite feeling drawn to him...

From the window of the room she was cleaning in the Otter Inn, Becca watched Jamie Morgan pull the ferry across the water.

The sun gave definition to the muscles of his shoulders as he moved the ferry along.

The ferry was a simple thing. It comprised a solid wooden punt with peeling red paint and a long rope.

The punt was full of people that day – even if it was the end of the tourist season – because of the lovely weather.

Becca stood transfixed. It was hard to drag her eyes away from Jamie.

But she knew all about him – the online poker, the fact that he spent more than he earned and was in with a bad crowd.

Everyone knew that Jamie had gone from bad to worse.

Caz Morgan, his mum and the landlady of the Waterside Inn on the other side of the river, had made it known that she could not have him running the pub when she retired early to Lanzarote.

Caz loved her son, but he had lied to her many times when he was at his worst.

“Becca, are you done?”

It was Jessie at the door.

Jessie was Jamie’s sister and Becca’s friend – a bright spark and a hard worker.

She had gone to college and had a good job at the tourist office in Gloucester.

She wasn’t interested in taking over her mum’s lucrative pub, but Caz knew her clever daughter could get a manager in and make sure it stayed profitable.

That was the other thing that everyone said about Jamie Morgan – that it was weird how much better his sister was than him.

“Come shopping with me,” Jessie said. “I’ve got mum’s car. I’m buying a car next month – did I say?”

Becca was pleased that Jessie was doing so well.

Her own wage was low, but cleaning wasn’t so bad.

“Ten minutes,” Becca replied. “I’ve got to lay towels.”

Jessie came into the room and saw Jamie from the window.

“I like having him back home, but Mum says she’d rather he hadn’t shown up for the season. So does Clem. Especially Clem.”

“But he’s doing the ferry job OK?”

“He’s late sometimes, but yeah. It’s not exactly a career, Becca, and he’s still into the poker, I think.

“He’s never going to be like Clem.”

Clem was Jessie’s fiancé.

“Not many men are like Clem,” Becca reasoned.

Jessie smiled.

Clem was confident and well-dressed, always in a suit. He was a solicitor in Hereford.

When they had been at school, all the mums had argued in the playground about whose child was going to get Clem Hardy. They were only half joking.

Becca stood behind Jessie at the window and watched Jamie as he tied the ferry up and helped people off.

He was gorgeous, but she needed a boyfriend who made more than she did – it was only practical.

The two young women went shopping and Jessie talked about the wedding.

Lots of people were helping with it.

Although a big river ran through the community, it was tight, and the two pubs, the Otter and the Waterside, got on well.

Everybody liked Jessie, and the do after the ceremony was going to be huge.

Most people felt a bit sorry for Jessie and Caz, having to put up with Jamie. He was pitifully unreliable and had been since school.

He’d been done for shoplifting one time and left home at seventeen to do goodness knew what in Birmingham.

Jessie drove them back to the Otter and they went down to the water as dusk fell.

“Oh, there’s Clem!” Jessie waved frantically, seeing her fiancé on the other side, standing on the terrace of the Waterside. “He must have thought I was over there. I need to get across.”

It was faster and more fun to use the ferry.

Jessie hurried along the bank to catch Jamie before he finished for the day.

“Take me over,” she said.

Jamie looked past his sister to Becca, standing several feet back.

It was Becca’s habit to avoid him.

It was the image he had and the fact that she was so attracted to him. She needed to keep away.

“Are you all right, Rebecca?” he asked.

“Fine, thanks.”

Jamie stood with his forearm shading his eyes against the sun.

Becca had never seen anything like him.

Jessie made Jamie untether the ferry and take her across.

“Come with me, Becca – Clem will buy us a drink.”

All four of them ended up at the landing spot on the Waterside bank.

Jessie flung herself at Clem and he led her up the steps to the pub.

Halfway up, Clem turned.

“I’ll get us a table, Becca,” he said. “The usual?”

He ignored Jamie as Becca nodded her agreement.

“The wedding is in six weeks,” Jamie said to Becca, his eyes on the retreating figure of Clem.

“It’s going to be brilliant,” Becca replied. “I’ve seen the dress.”

“Whatever.”

Becca knew what his expression meant: he was jealous of Clem Hardy’s success.

“He’s good for her,” Becca pointed out.

“Good,” Jamie repeated. “What does that mean?”

He looked at Becca.

“But what do I know about good, eh? I have to get the punt back over.”

He walked back towards the water.

“You fixed up, Becca?” Jamie asked her.

“Fixed up?”

“Do you have a nice lawyer boyfriend like Jess?”

“Of course not.”

As she said it she realised how odd that sounded.

It wasn’t so unlikely that she’d have a boyfriend.

“You didn’t tie up,” she said.

The punt was shifting away slowly on to the water.

But Jamie didn’t move. He was facing away from her.

“You don’t have a sister?”

“I’m an only child,” Becca told him.

It was the longest conversation they’d had, at least since they were nine.

“If you had one – a sister I mean – and she needed to know...”

He leaned over the water, reaching out.

“Never mind. It’s never good to rock the boat. Speaking of which...”

Jamie grabbed the rope as though in anger and the punt rocked.

“What?” Becca asked.

Clem was at the top of the steps again, calling out to Becca.

“He likes the sound of his own voice,” Jamie said, loud enough for Clem to hear.

Clem shook his head.

“It’s a shame, Morgan,” he called. “You had promise, once.

“Becca, hurry up – I’m buying nachos and shots all round.”

Jamie jumped into the punt.

“I bet you wish you had a man like him,” he said.

“That sounds so bitter, Jamie.”

“Whatever,” he said again.

The wedding day came closer and Jamie was referred to as getting in the way and being a pain.

Jessie, upset, told Becca that he wouldn’t be acting as an usher.

“He just can’t get on with Clem,” Jessie explains. “I think he hates how well Clem has done.”

Mrs Morgan was with them. They were making name cards for the tables.

She shushed them because Jamie had come in from the river.

The hem of his jeans shorts was damp and Becca tried not to look.

“Talking about me again?” he asked.

“You could help with these,” Caz replied. “You’ve got nice writing.”

“I’m not bothered where people sit,” he said, and then he bit his lip. “Sorry, Jess. It’s all a bit much, though, this wedding.”

“Not for me,” Jessie said.

Jamie leaned heavily against the sideboard and put his hands over his face.

Caz reached out and ruffled his hair.

“Sorry,” he said. “Unreliable Jamie.”

“Get off the carpet,” Caz told him. “You’re dripping.”

She tugged one hand away from his face.

“You’re doing a good job with the ferry.”

“Which is about to end, because the season’s over,” he pointed out. “Nobody is thinking that I can make a success of myself here.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

He looked at his mother.

“Maybe I’ll never be a reformed character. Maybe it’s not me that needs reforming.”

Jessie slammed a pen on to the table.

“Not this again.”

Jamie walked past his sister and for a moment he locked eyes with Becca.

She got the sense that he saw her as an ally and she didn’t know why. But it made her tingle.

Jessie became stressed.

Becca guessed that every bride-to-be was like that, and tried to keep her calm.

“It would help if Clem did a bit more,” Jessie complained. “I never see him.”

Becca gave her friend an encouraging smile.

“He’s so good at what he does. People make demands on him. You wouldn’t want him any other way.”

“He says that after the honeymoon he’ll have to do a lot of travelling – he has clients up and down the country.”

“Nice,” Becca replied, thinking of the limited scope of her own job.

Becca had dated Clem once, a long time ago when they were both teenagers.

She had found him boring and, after a few weeks, had eased her way out of the fledgling relationship.

She had wondered at the time what was wrong with her – Clem was a catch.

Jessie had recently mentioned the series of dates.

She said with a laugh that Becca’s loss was her gain and that now she wanted Becca to get a man like Clem.

Becca did want a boyfriend, but she had a disturbing tendency to get pulled towards bad boys.

She’d take her time.

Early one morning, Becca came out of the Otter to fetch a recycling bin and saw Jamie in the car park.

Then she realised that Clem was there, too, hidden by Jamie’s taller, broader figure.

They were arguing quietly.

Becca stilled the wheels of the bin and stayed out of sight.

“You know no such thing, Morgan,” she heard Clem say. “Even if you did, do you think anybody would listen to someone like you?”

Jamie’s arms stiffened by his side.

“This is my –”

Clem interrupted before Becca knew what he was referring to.

“Jessie told me what you insinuated,” he said. “She pointed out that you’ve lied a hundred times before – to her, to Caz.

“Neither of them are going to listen to a poker-playing moron with no means of support, rather than me.”

Jamie’s head moved from side to side in silence.

“I’ve no words,” he stated. “You call me a liar? I know about your trips to Birmingham and beyond.

“If you don’t keep your promises, I’ll have you.”

They separated, Clem to his sports car and Jamie down the steps to the river.

Becca ran their conversation in her head.

What was it that Jamie thought Clem was hiding?

The mutual mistrust between the two of them was famous. Was it money?

Did Jamie know, or think he knew, something bad about Clem’s work?

Clem had recently gone out on his own and Becca wondered if he was not as financially stable as he said – did a business often struggle at the start?

But it seemed odd that Jamie, who didn’t care about money except to chuck it about, would be concerned about that.

It was only a week before the wedding when Becca finished a late shift at the Otter.

The weather was weird, with a yellow light suffusing the sky.

It was hot for September, with the air still and low cloud. Becca wondered if there would be a storm.

She went outside for air and heard the pub’s side door slam.

The figure of Jamie Morgan appeared at the corner of the building.

He was tense, bouncing on his soles with his shoulders hunched.

Becca hadn’t even known he was in the pub that evening.

“Jamie?”

He swung round and she saw that his eyes were blazing.

“He’s with someone now!” he exclaimed.

“What? Who?” she came nearer and he exhaled.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Becca didn’t feel as though she had anything to trust him about.

They hardly knew each other, really.

The only firm connections between them were a past lived along the same river, and Jessie – friend of one and sister of the other.

“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly.

“Nobody trusts me. One mistake...” He grinned harshly. “Well, a few mistakes and you’re a... what’s that word?”

“I don’t know, Jamie.”

“Pariah! See, I don’t even have the vocab.”

“Nor do I.”

Jamie said nothing.

“I’m going to tell you this, though it’ll probably just mean more trouble and anger, and it might risk whatever this is.”

He was pointing to himself and then her, back and forth, and Becca felt a surge of excitement.

He thought there was something between them.

“Clem has a woman in Hereford and has had for ages,” he declared.

That was not what Becca wanted to hear.

It wasn’t true, and she hated that Jamie had said it. How could he?

She moved away but he kept talking.

“He likes Jessie, but he really just wants the money and the pub.

“He’s doing OK with law but it’s hard work. He said that to a mate in Hereford. I was in the same bar – they didn’t see me.

“I found out he’s got a girl in Birmingham, too. I tried to tell Jess.”

“No, Jamie. Clem and Jessie are getting married.”

A sheet of rain fell from the sky, soaking Becca in seconds.

Jamie lunged forward, took her hand and pulled her under the narrow overhang of the side door.

A huge clap of thunder rolled around above them.

“He’s with her now. I know a mate of Clem’s and I asked him to let me know where Clem was tonight.

“Time’s running out and I’ve been too slow. I told the bloke I had lost Clem’s mobile number and was going into Hereford.

“I said I could buy Clem a beer. Like a stag thing.”

His words were running away with him.

“He knows I’m getting nothing from Mum and he likes that. Like I care about money! He wants a nice, soft life, provided by my sister!

“I got a call just now and he’s in a bar in Hereford.”

Becca was ready to dismiss Jamie’s words, but she was thinking of Clem’s absences for work and his warnings of more.

She should ignore Jamie, but she couldn’t.

He stopped talking and looked at her hands.

“You don’t buy it, do you?” You think it’s spite.”

“I don’t know, Jamie,” she admitted. “But I’ll come with you, if you like.”

He gasped, his eyes round and his cheeks hollowed. It was an extraordinary sight.

“I was going to use the ferry – my car’s on the other side,” he said eagerly. “It’s quicker than –”

“So let’s use the ferry.”

Rain was pouring down the back of Becca’s shirt.

The overhang was not protecting either of them.

She turned, checking the punt was on their side.

“Becca.”

The low note in his voice made her turn back and she found his face close to hers.

He kissed her with his hand pressed on her back. It was electrifying.

“The river’s getting up,” he murmured.

“That often comes after the start of a storm.”

“I know.” He kissed her again. “We ought to go – the pubs will shut.

“Your shift...”

“They’ll cope.” Becca didn’t want to leave him now.

There was white water pushing against the banks.

Becca knew she could ask someone inside for loan of a car, but that would draw attention to this strange errand.

“Is the hand ferry OK in this weather?” he asked.

“It’ll get us across,” she said. “Kiss me again first, though.”

The punt dipped and reared as they got in, as though unwilling to bear them.

Becca clutched the sides as Jamie flung the noose along the cable.

Thunder drowned out her warnings of a gusting wind. The storm was directly overhead.

Becca watched his hands grow white as he grasped the rope.

The punt was yanked from side to side by the waves.

Several times she thought they might be pulled free and tossed along the river.

It could be a hungry river in a storm.

But Jamie looked at her and smiled, and she felt, as water chilled every inch of her skin and she began to shake, that she was queen of the universe.

He drove too fast to Hereford, but she didn’t care.

On the way, he kept assuring her that he knew what he was talking about.

“While I was living away, you got beautiful,” he remarked after a pause.

Becca laughed.

She knew she shouldn’t because she might just be about to learn something terrible, but she couldn’t help it.

The place that Jamie had been told about was a nasty, dark bar.

The floor was sticky and the lighting unforgiving.

Becca did believe Jamie as soon as she saw Clem Hardy perched on a bar stool with a long-haired brunette on his knee.

“Get lost, James,” Clem warned.

It was hard to miss Jamie when he entered a room, even a dimly lit one, with his height.

“You can go back to Jessie and shout a lot, Morgan, and there will still be a wedding.”

“Hello, Clem.” Becca stepped out from behind Jamie.

He refocused and his mouth fell open.

The brunette began to object to the interruption, but Clem held up a hand.

“Becca, hi,” he said in an engaging voice. “A bit of a stag do going on.”

“That was last week,” Becca pointed out.

Clem was looking from her to Jamie, wondering why they’d come together, so she tucked herself under Jamie’s arm and leaned her head against him.

He held her close.

For three months Jessie was miserable and angry, but she was young, bright and resilient.

She knew she had escaped, and that her friends had been her escape committee.

She started going out with a new member of staff at the tourist office the following summer.

He was her junior, but he was lovely.

Becca married Jamie that Christmas.

They didn’t see the point of waiting.

Jamie had got a job with the man who’d tipped him off about Clem’s betrayal, so they reckoned they’d find a flat right away if they could.

People began to see that Jamie Morgan wasn’t his messy past.

Becca continued to work in the Otter – she saw no reason to change a job she liked.

“We’re not high achievers,” she told her husband one freezing day when she’d finished cleaning a room on the second floor.

Jamie had come to the pub to fetch her. They had a date for lunch.

He moved to look out the window.

“You get a brilliant view of the rope ferry from here,” he commented.

“Tell me about it,” she replied.

He turned round and laughed.

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