“Oy, you! What are you doing on my boat?”
“Looking for you, possibly, if you’re the captain.” Roscoe took his head out of the doorway he was investigating, and answered the person on the bank civilly.
How did he get away with it?
We had come down from the hills two nights earlier, and wandered along the shore, noting the low buildings and masts ahead of us. “Reckon there’s a little harbour there, Nev,” Roscoe had said to me, sniffing the air afterwards as if he could forecast the weather.
“Going to be fine and settled for a few days too. Reckon we could save ourselves a lot of walking if we could maybe borrow a boat and sail it along the coast a way.”
“That’s a funny definition of borrow,” I replied.
“Relocate it for the owner, then. They’d probably prefer it in Cromer or Southwold, anyway.”
“It’s a long way between Cromer and Southwold.”
“Always have a Plan B,” he said.
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For visually challenged writers, the image shows two bobbing boats beside a footpath and some railings.
Thank you so much for taking part in the #Writephoto prompt – Boots