ONCE THE LAND had slipped out of view, the sea became a bit quieter. The sea would flop a little on the side of the pumpkin, but other than that, and the flight of a few birds, it was quiet. Heavenly. Marty’s heart had settled into its normal rhythm, but even though he knew it was real, he could hardly believe it! They were sailing. Actually sailing. Grandad checked his compass and his map every now and again, and they spent the first few hours in silent awe as if they didn’t actually have the words to express how they were feeling. At lunchtime, Grandad set a course with the engine and they all had a picnic in the pumpkin in the middle of the sea.

“You got in, then?” asked Marty at last, as if chatting to a friend while bobbling about in the middle of the sea was entirely normal.

Gracie shrugged as she handed out some sandwiches.

“You have to wait for a letter.”

“So what was with the coast guard helicopter?”

Gracie grinned.

“The auditions overran—I thought I’d never get here. Anyway, turns out someone had told my dad where I was…”

At this, Grandad started to fake whistle and look away …

“Who told your…?”

Marty clicked.

“Grandad! How could you?”

“It’s all right! It’s all right.” Gracie laughed. “Anyway, he saw me dance, we had a good talk, and then … you remember my saying that Dad used to do a bit of sailing? Turns out he knew the coast guard and one of them owed him a favor … I couldn’t actually believe he was doing it, but next thing I knew—this helicopter turned up…”

Marty had never seen Gracie laugh when she talked about her father before.

“And, ta-da. Here I am! After I managed on the audition, I think Dad has realized that, you know, I can look after myself.” Marty smiled at her.

“That’s good,” he said.

“He told me to tell you thanks, Grandad.” Gracie grinned.

Grandad grinned back and said, “It’s quite all right, my dear.”

“So, what are we doing when we get to Paris?” she said, changing the subject.

“Well,” said Grandad, sitting down at last and helping himself to a cheese and pickle sandwich, “I’ve worked it all out.” He took a notepad out of the top pocket of his vest. “We want to make the most of our trip, so I made us a schedule. We park up the pumpkin, quick walk into the city. Swift tour around the Louvre, lunch on Renoir square, and a quick trip up the Eiffel to see the Paris lights in the evening. Back to the pumpkin to sleep and start home in the morning. What do you say?”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Gracie. “This is great…”