I'm Virtually Yours (6 page)

“Sure,” Will replied easily. “Just don't let them out of your sight — they're the only copies I have.”

“I promise. Oh Will, I do hope it all works out for you,” Polly said impulsively.

“An injection of cash from Worldsend Enterprises will certainly help — provided of course they don't try and take over — but with or without them, I'm determined to make it work,” Will said quietly. “And I'll do whatever it takes. The yard, the boats — it's my life,” he added. “I can't think of anything I'd rather do. Or anywhere else I'd rather live.”

Thoughtfully Polly picked a mussel out of its shell. She was beginning to get the message that any woman in Will Robertson's life would have to be equally enamoured of boats. Shame she hated boats so much.

 

Saturday morning and after checking mails and answering a few queries from another potential client, Polly closed her laptop. It was the weekend and she intended to relax.

Angie had already suggested they had some retail therapy time together, followed by coffee and cakes in an award-winning local cafe.

“I can't be away from The Captain's Berth too long,” Angie said. “In case I miss out on any possible customers. Most people arrive down here in the afternoon looking for somewhere to stay so I'll need to be back by one o'clock.”

With Angie's encouragement Polly treated herself to a floaty summer dress from the sale rail in one of the town's many boutiques.

“That colour really suits you,” Angie said. “You're lucky you can wear yellow — it's such a cheerful colour. It just makes me look washed out.”

“It's too pretty to resist,” Polly said, pirouetting in front of a mirror. “And it is a bargain. Besides, it'll remind me of you and down here when I'm back home.”

Later, as they sat on the small terrace of the cafe down by the park, Angie said casually, “This phobia of yours with boats and water and not going out on the river.”

“I guess Will's been talking to you,” Polly said. “About me not going across to the barge. He was really nice about it.” She waited as the waitress placed their order of coffees and slices of millionaire's shortbread in front of them.

“At least he didn't ridicule me like some people have in the past. Thank goodness Worldsend promised I didn't have to go on any boats — definitely wouldn't have taken the job otherwise. Never understood the attraction boats have for people.”

“I know I'm biased, him being my cousin,” Angie said. “But Will's a good bloke. Have to warn you though — he probably has plans to help you overcome your fear. He'll have added getting you in a boat to his mission in life list — along with saving the boatyard of course.”

Polly smiled. “Never been a mission in anyone's life before,” she said. “But I'm not here for long and my fear goes back years, so I think he'll have his work cut out.”

“He'll give it his best shot,” Angie said. “Will's one determined man when he sets his mind on something.”

Thoughtfully Polly finished her coffee. There was no way she was going to set foot in any boat — however determined Will Robertson might be on her behalf.

“Are you into boats?” she asked.

Angie nodded. “Growing up down here it would be difficult not to be. Used to crew for Will on deliveries too — miss that. Too tied down with The Captain's Berth now. I've still got an ancient dinghy that I sail at every opportunity though. Don't get much time these days but you're looking at an ex-Senior sailing champ.”

She glanced across at Polly. “And you? What d'you do when you're not working?”

“Riding is my thing. Can't afford a horse unfortunately but I go out with our local stables at least once a month. Once the business takes off I'm hoping to do more — even one day to make enough money to get my own horse,” Polly said smiling.

At the moment that dream was as far out of reach as ever. When she got home after this job she'd definitely have to do some publicity and get some more clients — although the couple of enquiries she'd had this week sounded promising. Maybe the advertising she'd done in the past few weeks was starting to pay off after all.

They were walking past the boatyard on their way home when Will came out carrying an outboard motor.

“Hi, can't stop. Customer is waiting for this down on the embankment. I'll pick Solo up usual time tomorrow,” he said to Angie before glancing at Polly. “Rosie up to a tramp across Dartmoor? And you of course.”

Polly hesitated. A walk out on the moors certainly appealed but was it a good idea to spend time like that with Will when she was investigating the boatyard business? On the other hand, it wasn't a true conflict of interests — and Daniel had said he wanted a personal view of things. She might learn a bit more about the business and Will as they walked.

“There aren't any boats up there for you to worry about,” Will said, smiling at her.

“In that case, Rosie and I would love a tramp across Dartmoor,” Polly said making up her mind. She'd often read about the untamed and desolate area of the West Country with its bogs and wild ponies. It would be good to see something of it for herself.

The fact that for a couple of hours it would be just her and a man she was increasingly attracted to, spending time alone together, didn't of course enter into it.

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

Polly was waiting when Will arrived with the boatyard's Land Rover after breakfast on Sunday morning to pick up her and the two dogs.

“How long will it take to reach the moor?” she asked, settling herself in and snapping her seatbelt on.

“About half an hour,” Will said. “Shouldn't be too much traffic around this time of the morning.”

Will was right and they were soon speeding through picturesque villages with their thatched roofs and colourful cottage gardens. Rattling over a cattle grid onto the moor proper the scenery began to change as Will drove further inland. Enclosures with granite stone walls and gnarled wind-battered old trees gave way to open moorland.

Pulling into a gravelled parking area, Will finally stopped the Land Rover.

“That's some view,” Polly said gazing at the wide panorama before her. “So much space.”

Clipping Solo and Rosie onto their leads, Will and Polly took the right hand path out of the car park which soon petered out and they were walking across the moor itself. The grass here had been nibbled almost out of existence by the various animals that roamed freely over the moor.

As they walked Will asked, “So tell me about yourself, Polly Jones. Any brothers or sisters?”

Polly shook her head. “No. Spoilt only child that's me.” She shortened Rosie's extended lead slightly pulling her back from some foul smelling mess she'd wanted to roll in.

“Anyway, there's not a lot to tell — I'm quite boring really. Hate boats as you know, but love the countryside. This to me is wonderful,” she said looking around. “Had various office jobs after college before landing my last job managing a travel agents. Did that for three years before I was made redundant. I used the redundancy money to set up my business. —so now I'm a virtual assistant to whoever wants to pay me. Your turn.”

“Well, for a start I can't imagine my life without boats in it, although I also love all this countryside,” Will said. “I've never been to college although I did manage a couple of A levels. Dad wouldn't let me join Robertsons straight from school. Insisted I needed to get some experience away from here. So I did some yacht deliveries and saw the world. But now I'm back home and I'm staying.” He glanced at her. “And, just for the record, you are not boring, Miss Pollyanna.”

At the unexpected use of a name nobody had called her for years, Polly felt the tears welling up. Biting her lip, she scrambled in her pocket for a tissue.

Will looked at her, concerned. “What did I say?”

Polly shook her head. “Sorry. It's nothing. It's just my dad used to call me that when he was teasing me.” She gave an unladylike sniff. “I'm fine.”

“Sure? I promise not to use it again if it upsets you,” Will said.

Polly smiled. “It was nice hearing it again actually,” she said. “Now which way do we go?”

“We're making for that tor,” Will said pointing to a bundle of large rocks on the horizon. “And then we'll pick up the old china clay railway track to head back to the car. With luck we should see some Dartmoor ponies along the way.”

“Ooh,” Polly said. “That would be good.”

“Yeah, Angie told me you were into horses.”

He'd been talking to Angie about her again? Inwardly Polly speculated about what else Angie might have told him.

They walked past ancient stone circles, a small reservoir, groups of sheep, and then to Polly's amazement the ground began to slope away and within minutes they were standing on a narrow strip of sandy beach alongside a stream.

“This place is full of surprises,” she said, laughing as Solo chased Rosie into the water and got their leads tangled. “I thought it was going to be all bogs and granite outcrops.”

“We have to cross the stream via those stepping stones,” Will said. “Mind you don't slip.” He released both the dogs from their leads before stepping onto the first stone and turning to give Polly a helping hand.

His hand grasped Polly's firmly and she tried to ignore the giddy shiver of breathlessness she experienced as her hand was engulfed in Will's work roughened one. Once she was safely across the stream he let her hand go as they put the dogs back on their leads.

“Seems a shame they can't run free,” Polly said.

“Impossible at this time of the year. Too many in-lamb sheep around, not to mention the ground nesting birds,” Will said.

The moor on this side of the stream started out as a gentle gradient but soon became steeper and covered in ferns before levelling out once again. In the distance Polly saw four or five of the legendary Dartmoor ponies clustered around the bottom of the tor she and Will were aiming for.

They settled into a rhythmic walk, with Will telling her bits about the history of the moor. The way the granite and china clay quarries that used to operate on the moor were initially responsible for the single track railway line built for transporting the granite off the isolated terrain.

“Of course back in the 1800s it was all done using pony power,” Will said as they reached the tor and stopped to watch the grazing ponies.

“I'm surprised we've seen so few ponies,” Polly said. “I always thought Dartmoor was full of them.”

Will shook his head. “Not these days. Less than three thousand of them now — and they all belong to someone. No purely wild ponies up here any more.”

“Love that piebald one,” Polly said. “I plan on buying one just like him one day.”

“Right, time to make tracks for home,” Will said glancing at his watch.

An hour later and two very tired dogs were spreadeagled on the back seat of the Land Rover as Will drove homewards. They were nearly back at The Captain's Berth when Will asked, “How's the business report for Worldsend coming along? Nearly finished?”

“Hoping to complete it in the next couple of days,” Polly said. “I need to be home by this time next weekend.”

“Like to come to a beginning of the season party Friday night?” Will asked. “A few of the local businesses get together to wish everyone a good year. There's usually a band and a bit of dancing.”

“Sounds like fun, thank you,” Polly said. “And Will, thank you for this morning, I've really enjoyed myself.”

“Me too,” Will said.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Monday morning and Polly took Rosie for a walk before collecting the books from the boatyard and returning to Angie's. Up in her room she opened the books, switched on her computer and prepared to spend the morning analysing spreadsheets. Not her favourite job but it had to be done.

Only this morning, sitting at the table in front of the window, she struggled to concentrate. Memories of her and Will on Dartmoor yesterday kept flooding into her mind. Equally distracting was the view from the window. Every time she glanced outside some activity on the river caught her attention.

Yachts leaving and arriving in harbour, tourist boats starting to ply their summer trade, the small passenger ferry repeatedly crossing and recrossing the river. Fleetingly she even caught a glimpse of Will at the helm of the boatyard's workboat as it made its way upriver.

It was while she was watching the workboat and thinking about Will that Marty rang.

“Hi, how was your weekend? Still in one piece?”

“It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant,” Marty said. “Everything that Kev promised me it would be. No scary moments and I even managed to stop myself from screaming when he did a small wheelie.”

“So you're a biker's moll now are you?” Polly said laughing. “Amazing what love can do.”

“You bet. How's life in Devon?”

“It's beautiful down here,” Polly said. “You, Kev and the Harley should visit.”

“Managing to avoid going on any boats?” Marty said, who being her forever friend knew all about Polly's dislike of everything nautical. “Can't believe you're actually working for a boat company when you hate the things.”

“You sound like Will,” Polly said. “I keep saying it doesn't matter what the commodity is. At the end of the day it's down to costings and good business practice. And no, I haven't been on any boats.”

“Will?” Trust Marty to pick up on the name.

“Partner in the firm who is, or was, rather anti about the whole money investment thing,” Polly said. “So you're going to get all the leather gear now are you?” she went on, throwing the conversation back to Marty.