by DJ Black
It had been a long time since they'd had a family holiday together; not since before the divorce. Even now, Emma had not wanted to come. She had just turned 18 and had wanted at stay home with her friends.
If the truth were to be told, Helen would rather have stayed home with her friends as well, but lately she'd felt that her relationship with her daughter had been getting away from her.
"You'll love it. Three weeks on a boat, no TV and definitely no men," Helen had said with forced enthusiasm.
"It's been over a year Mum; you're only 38... you could do with a man or two," Emma had returned.
Emma didn't share her mother's old-fashioned ideas about men being a lower form of animal life - a view which seemed to have intensified since the messy break up with her father.
In fact, the holiday turned out not to be so bad at first. The weather was hot and the long lie-ins and eating out was a teenage dream.
"Where shall we go today?" Helen asked one morning.
"It's a river, Mum." Emma rolled her eyes up. "Yesterday we came from there so today we go that way. I don't think the boat will be happy taking a short cut across the fields."
"No need to be cheeky. I mean where do you want to stop?"
"Somewhere with shops," Emma said hopefully.
In the end, it had been nearly lunchtime before they set off, and by mid afternoon, apart from a couple of riverside pubs and sleepy shop-free hamlets, they had seen nowhere worth stopping.
Around three o'clock, Helen decided on a lie down, leaving Emma to steer the boat. Of course being a teen, once her mother was off the scene she cranked up the throttle and set off down the river in defiance of the speed limit and the damage the wash caused the unprotected riverbanks.
After half an hour, she came to a fork in the river. The map the hire company had given them showed this part of the river in a paler blue, but there were no markers saying 'non-navigation' so she turned off in the hope that this new river would yield a livelier destination.
After only 10 minutes the river became decidedly narrower and even a reckless 18-year-old had to slow down.
"Where are we?" Helen said as she came into the cockpit.
"Um," Emma replied. "I'm not sure."
Helen consulted the map. "Have we been through Carlshoulton?"
"I haven't seen it yet."
"The river is a bit narrow here." Helen observed as she took the wheel. "We are low on diesel, we'll have to stop soon." After another hour Helen looked at the map in confusion. "This doesn't make sense. Even if we missed Carlshoulton while I was sleeping we should have come to Bailey by now."
"Isn't Bailey the other way?" Emma suggested.
"No, it's after Carlshoulton, which we should have got to hours ago."
"But we turned off before that, didn't we?"
"There is no turning until after Bailey," Helen insisted, propping her sunglasses onto her head as if that might make the map clearer.
"Yes there is. Here... look." Emma pointed, suddenly wondering if she should have made the turn.
"No, that's the pale blue area. That is out of bounds for hire craft," Helen said dismissively. Then she caught sight of her daughters face. "Oh, you didn't turn there?"
"Well I didn't know why it was pale blue," Emma said sullenly.
"Oh Emma," her mother growled. "There won't be any boat shops or refuelling stations here." She tapped the fuel gauge as if that would give them more diesel. "We need to find a place that is wide enough to turn around."
It took quite some time to get to a wider part and by then it was getting dark.
"We'll have to moor up here for the night and hope we have enough diesel to make Carshalton in the morning."
As they settled down for the night, they could see the lights of a settlement, although it was too far to make in the dark.
"It's not fair," Emma pouted. "It's boring having to go to bed this early."
"Well whose fault is that?" Helen could have screamed at her daughter.
The next morning once the sun came up, it was obvious that this quiet backwater was well off the usual tourist route and was quite idyllic.
"Couldn't we stay here today?" Emma wheedled. "We have the rowing boat; we can explore and maybe reach that village."
"Well we shouldn't really..." The spot was more like the image of a boating holiday when she had first thought of it. "Well I suppose we could get our bearings. I wouldn't want to run out of diesel in the narrows before we reached the main river. We wouldn't be able to get any help there."
So it was decided. Helen made sandwiches and they set out in the rowing boat further up stream.
They had not got very far when they came across an old boat moored at the riverside. It was listing at an uncomfortable angle and had a half-painted side. It was a large boat, much larger than their own craft and had a look of a vessel that might have once gone to sea.
"Is it derelict?" Emma asked.
Helen shrugged.
"Lets go aboard and look," Emma suggested.
Helen was about to say no. But then she could see the enthusiasm in her daughter's eyes and realised that the boat was probably abandoned anyway.
"Why not. Let's have an adventure."
It wasn't easy to climb aboard and once they had it was hard to stand on the deck on account of the list to the landward side.
"It's in a bit of a mess. I wonder how it came to be here," Emma said as she disappeared into the half open hatchway.
Helen leaned on the frame and peered after her daughter, only to hastily withdraw to wipe some grime from her hand.
"It's so gross in here," Emma called back.
Helen reluctantly followed her in and saw what her daughter meant. The place was full of open cans of paint and various foodstuffs. There were also beer tins and empty whisky bottles.
"I think we had better go," Helen suggested.
"Or maybe you shouldn't have come in the first place," said a gruff voice behind them.
Helen jumped and turned to see a grizzled bearded man in tatty overalls. He looked about 60, although he was obviously in good shape.
"I'm sorry," Helen gasped. "We didn't know there was anyone here."
"So you thought you would plunder the place."
"No, I mean we didn't realise it belonged to anybody."
"Hi, I'm Emma this is my mum Helen," Emma said brightly as she offered the man her hand. "It's a cool boat you have here."
"I thought you said it was, what was it... gross?"
"Oh just the mess I mean. The boat is well cool."
"And getting cooler by the day," he said sardonically. "I have to fix the bilge pump before we sink altogether."
"Look I'm sorry, we really didn't mean..." Helen tried to explain.
"Can we help?" Emma interrupted.
"You can hand me down some tools and the parts when I ask for them," the man said.
"Sure," Emma gushed.
With that, he opened a hatch in the floor to reveal an engine and jumped down into a space under it.
Helen was left standing alone to one side gaping at the sight of her daughter's shorts-clad bottom sticking up as she lay on the floor peering into a hole to help a strange river-going tramp. Then with a shrug she turned to the mess in the cabin and began to clean up by putting all the junk into some bin bags that she found under the sink.
By lunchtime, the cabin was clean and they had learnt that the man called himself Doc and that he lived on the boat. By this time, Emma had crawled into the space and was doing something noisy at Doc's direction, showing no sign that she wanted to continue their journey into the village. So Helen decided to see what was in the galley in the way of lunch.
By five that afternoon the mysterious pump was fixed and her grimy daughter and Doc stood grinning on deck.
"Can I work the pump?" Emma wheedled. "On our boat we have a hand pump under the seat."
"We are a little bit more sophisticated here." Doc smiled as he turned on the engine.
Then he flicked a switch and the pump came to life far below and water began to shoot out of the back, in boat-shaking spurts.
"Oh wow," gushed Emma. "How long will it take to empty the bilges?"
"Longer than usual, we are half full of water. Hours probably. Usually I run it for 15 minutes a day," Doc said frowning as he stooped back into the hole and made some adjustments. Then when he was done he said, "Ladies, thanks for all the help. Let me buy you dinner."
"Its alright, we really should be going," Helen said, looking nervously back towards the galley.
"No need to worry. There's a gastro pub across the fields here; it is only half an hour's walk. My treat," he insisted.
Helen then explained their predicament and how they should try and make for somewhere with some diesel.
"Ha," he laughed. "Adventurers after my own heart. I have spare fuel, I'll have you up and running tomorrow and back on the main river." Then without waiting for their acceptance he stepped into the cabin. "You can get cleaned up in the forward bathroom," he said as he disappeared, waving them forward.
Twenty minutes later he re-emerged clean-shaven, washed and dressed in a dapper blue blazer and Fred Perry shirt. Helen took a breath. Doc was not much older than she was and decidedly handsome.
Dinner was a success and they learned that Doc was a retired broker and now his life was restoring the boat. When asked if he had a house, he was evasive, but implied that he did.
"I have one or two somewhere." Then he added, "It's too late for you to row in the dark back to your boat. Can I get you a room here or do you want to be my guests?"
"Oh can we stay on the boat please?" Emma begged.
Helen tried to protest but Doc was not one for discussion and so their place aboard was secured for the night.
The next morning Helen awoke to the sound and smell of bacon. Once on deck, she found Emma deeply into painting the side of the boat in some old overalls.
"Morning Mum," she said brightly. "I'm helping Doc finish the painting."
"So I see," Helen said and pursed her lips. "You know we really should get on. We can't bother Doc any more."
"Nonsense," Doc said emerging with a plate of eggs, bacon, sausages and beans. "There is toast and tea on its way."
The morning passed pleasantly enough for Helen; it seemed like years since she had just spoken to a man when it didn't end in an argument. Amazingly, Emma, who at home would not even clean her room, was humming away as she painted the side of the boat.
"You missed a bit," Helen teased.
Emma flicked paint at her mother and offered her a tongue.
"Don't do that," Doc said firmly.
Emma ignored him and flicked more paint.
"Please don't do that," Doc said again. "I'm sure your mother doesn't have an endless supply of fresh clothes back on your boat and my mahogany deck is a bugger to clean as it is, without you getting paint all over it."
Emma giggled and flicked some more paint.
"Don't do that again," Doc barked.
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