But when the men and women of the valley came down the driveway, wanting a glimpse, he found that he couldn’t deny them. Part of it was manners, but a greater part was pride. He saw the way they looked at him after he led them to the shoreline and revealed his green-gold treasure—like he’d been plunged in molten minerals and recast in a new skin. With their eyes on him he told them where he’d got the boat, crediting Falmouth, crediting luck. He’d dip a finger in the olive dust that still lined the boatshed floor, and tell them how he’d scoured the paint off. Told them of the shellac he’d dabbed over the holes, of the rudder he’d coaxed out of oak, of the sail he’d bought from Singline. He invited them to smell the timber, and feasted on their reactions as their noses caught the wood’s spice. If the weather was good, he pushed the boat out into the river, showing them how easily it cut through the water. If there were children, he took them with him. Held the tiller as they waved at their parents on the shore.

As well as families and groups of friends there came men on their own—men claiming knowledge and experience. Sailors and shipwrights who wanted to chew over the boat’s quality. They had seen grander vessels, they were all quick to tell him. Wondrous creations down south, yachts and ketches of design and beauty that defied natural order, the sight of which made grown adults shake. But Ned noticed that each of these wise, gruff, all-knowing men could not leave without laying a palm on the boat’s golden timber. Could not walk away without a final stare.

It was with these men that Ned’s pride flared hottest, when he felt his achievement with the boat had run beyond his dreams. He began to think he’d done something remarkable. He started to wonder if he had an eye for things that others didn’t. This sensation was heightened when one of the men—the only one who didn’t claim to be an expert—asked if he could return with someone else. This curious man was small, middle-aged, perhaps the same age as Ned’s father, but more assured and much smarter dressed. His neat suit lent him a sharpened look, and the perfect ovals of his gold-rimmed glasses gave him an aura of intelligence and money. When he leaned in to sniff at the wood, his face glowed with energy.

‘Marvellous, young man. Absolutely marvellous. I don’t know a lot about watercraft, but boy am I developing an interest. I wonder: would you mind if I popped back with a friend of mine? He knows a thing or two about wood and wind and whatnot. I’d love to hear his opinion on this little gem of yours.’