His legs ached from being cramped in the car. Fatigue coursed up his spine, across his scalp and down his shoulders, so he stopped and tried a yoga stretch he hadn’t done in years: hands together, arms pushed to the sky, then a long bend until his palms met the ground.

They didn’t quite reach, but as he shook himself out James felt better. After a few deep breaths he wondered about chucking in his job so he and Dylan could take on the farm. His partner hadn’t pushed against the idea of moving to a completely new place. What was that about?

The thrill of it gave James a confidence that he could do almost anything and get away with it. While the mood lasted, he started scanning the boats.

Another jetty lay just ahead, a couple of old-looking fishing trawlers at the end, nets hanging like shrouds in the damp air. There was a small brick building, more of a lean-to with a crooked roof, faded advertising signs and stacks of bread crates. A rusted chain hung across the threshold.

James stepped over it and followed the gangway running beneath the webs of nets. At the end was a cluster of tinnies bearing names. One of the boats in the distance was going to be the right one. Hopefully the light would increase enough once he’d gotten a dinghy into action.

He chose one that looked abandoned, with its canvas cover barely held by rusted studs. Part of the edge tore as James heaved it aside, unleashing the oars. He got in and worked the old wooden boat free of its moorings. The shallow pool of water at his feet was worrying, but its colour made him decide it was probably rainwater, gathered beyond the very last rib of the hull.

As soon as he leaned into the oars the boat began a slow spin, so he evened them out and pulled again. It started to glide, but where? After the next pull he turned his head in search of the right boat.

A bit closer now, he saw a few options. Most of them bore names he wasn’t looking for, but one boat was facing the shore as though shy of showing its side. He pushed his arms forward again and worked at rowing, altering his direction towards the possibility.

Small waves lapping against the vessel made a glugging noise that was louder than James’s breathing and the beating of his heart. A couple of times the dinghy scraped against the hull, but James buffeted it with one hand, and pushed.

There, slightly above his eye level, he saw her name: Home Free.