I'm Virtually Yours by Jennifer Bohnet Page A

“Don’t know who.”
    Will said. “OK. That’s tomorrow afternoon sorted. Right, let’s go. You too, Polly,” he added, looking at her.
    Polly instinctively shook her head. “I don’t want to intrude.”
    â€œYou won’t be,” Will said firmly. “Trust me, Polly.”
    Lillian locked the office and they all made their way to the workboat tied up alongside the embankment.
    Will had clearly had a word with his father about her phobia, Polly thought, because it was Ben who jumped on board and started the engine, leaving Will free to help Lillian and Angie on board.
    Standing there biting her lip and wondering how on earth she could get out of stepping on board, Polly began to feel sick. She watched Lillian and Angie expertly step aboard before Will turned to her.
    â€œIt’s a very short trip across to the
Mary-Jane
— five minutes at the most. Boats don’t come much safer than this one, Polly. Come on. I’ll be with you all the way and nothing is going to happen I promise you. Other than you beginning to face up to your fear.”
    Because the tide was in, the distance between the quay and the deck of the boat was just a short jump down. Polly looked at the workboat.
    Will was right. She had to face up to her fear. And the workboat was no rubber dinghy. It was a solidly built safe boat — even she realised there was no way it was going to capsize crossing the river. As Will smiled at her encouragingly, Polly placed her hand in his and, taking a deep breath, she stepped downwards onto the deck.
    As Ben began to manoeuvre the boat out into the river, Polly stood squeezing Will’s hand tightly, her eyes screwed shut as she struggled to stop herself shaking.
    â€œPolly, open your eyes,” Will said. “Look, there are two swans flying over us.”
    Will’s voice broke into her thoughts and slowly she opened her eyes and looked skywards to watch the two large birds, so graceful in flight, make for an inlet upriver.
    â€œWow, that was something else,” she said.
    â€œSee all sorts of things from boats,” Will said. “Often get porpoises out in the bay if you’re interested in seeing them?”
    Before Polly could reply, Ben shouted out a greeting as he drew up alongside the moored yacht. “Ahoy,
Mary-Jane
. Anyone on board?”
    â€œHi,” a tanned dark-haired man said, appearing in the cockpit. “You the welcoming party?” He grinned at them.
    â€œYou could say that,” Ben replied. “You the owner?”
    â€œYep. Who are you?”
    â€œBen Robertson. Owner of the yard that built this yacht back in the fifties.”
    â€œIn that case you must be my Uncle Ben,” the dark-haired man said. His words fell into a stunned silence.
    â€œYou’re William Franklyn’s son?” Ben finally said. “Daniel?”
    Polly gave a strangled gasp which had everyone turning to look at her.
    â€œMy virtual employer down here is a Daniel Franklyn of Worldsend Enterprises. You’re not…”
    â€œOne and the same,” Daniel said. “Pleased to finally meet you, Uncle Ben. You too, Polly — you’ve done a great job.”
    Â 

 
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Â 
    â€œSo you and Daniel are cousins?” Polly said, trying to make sense of things. Friday afternoon and she and Will were in the boatyard office, waiting for everyone to join them for the signing of the agreement between Worldsend and the Robertsons.
    â€œYep. His grandfather, Joseph, was my grandfather’s brother.”
    â€œAnd it was Joseph who ran away in the fifties with the
Mary-Jane
?”
    â€œAnd about fifteen thousand pounds of the company’s money,” Will said. “Which was one hell of a lot of money in those days. Robertsons nearly went bankrupt because of it Dad says.”
    â€œAnd now Joseph’s grandson wants to invest in the company,” Polly said.
    â€œSeems