The Trawlerman

good. Back then, I stepped up and saved her,’ Stella said. ‘Just the same as you did now.’
‘No,’ Alex said. ‘Not just the same. Not at all.’
‘I know why you’re angry.’ Stella scrunched up her mouth. ‘It just kind of worked out this way. If it’s any consolation, I don’t like what I did any more than you did. I’m not proud. It just needed to happen.’
Alex looked her in the eye. ‘Just don’t come back here, OK? Not ever.’
When Zoë arrived downstairs with Stella’s bright-pink hoodie bundled up, the car had already gone.
Alex looked at her, standing there, disappointed that Stella hadn’t waited to say goodbye, puzzled by her mother’s hostility to her friend. Alex wasn’t sure where to begin. Luckily, before she could say anything, Bill South rounded the corner of the end house dressed in a yellow sou’wester, a bunch of bright-red supermarket chrysanthemums in his hand.
An offering.

Thanks
It goes without saying that the trawlermen and their families portrayed in this book are totally imaginary. The Stade boasts a strong fishing community. I’m very grateful to Luke Noakes for taking me out on his trawler. If you’re ever visiting Folkestone, you can sample his latest catch at The Fish Shop at 1 Fish Market on The Stade. At sixteen, Luke was the youngest ticketed trawler skipper in the UK. The man who certified him – and who introduced me to him – is the crime writer and translator Quentin Bates.
Thanks also to Jake Jones, Darren Cooke, Paddy Magrane, Liz Cowlett, Graham Bartlett, Jasmine Palmer, my editor Jon Riley and my agent Karolina Sutton and the team at Curtis Brown. Much gratitude to the old gang: Roz Brody, Mike Holmes, Janet King and Chris Sansom. And finally, thanks, yet again, to Jane.
Chapter one of this book was written almost entirely during a workshop I gave that was hosted by Dungeness Open Studios. Many thanks to the artist Paddy Hamilton and co-host Bridget Wilkins who have always welcomed me with tea and encouragement.