As the sun slowly edged its way over the horizon, the working day began for those aboard the boats that bobbed gently within the protective embrace of Achnashean harbour. Up high, noisy seagulls circled, greedily anticipating the ripe remains of yesterday’s catch. From within the limpid, gulf stream warmed waters a seal’s head appeared – silver whiskers glistening in the early morning light, bold grey eyes investigating before returning beneath the lapping waves.
On board the Jeannie May young deckhand Alan McBride prepared the creel nets. As he hurried to finish, he noticed a van drawing up to the harbour master’s office. He knew the van, as well as the driver who now strode purposefully towards the boat. Alan had always supposed, and assumed, his father had wanted more than a fisherman’s life for his only son. However, Alan was happy. He had a job he loved, and more importantly a person in his life whom he loved even more.
‘Alan, have you got a minute, son?’ shouted his father, squinting down from the quayside.
‘What is dad? We’re about to sail,’ he replied.
‘Aye, fine – just wanted to make sure you were coming to your mother’s birthday meal up at the Hotel tomorrow night.’
Alan hadn’t been a great one for family events in recent times. His mother though was always an exception to the excuses.
‘I’ll be there. I might bring a friend if that’s all right. There’s something I need to speak to you and mother about. Something you need to know.’
‘Absolutely, whatever, son. As long as you’re there and as long as you’re happy. That’s all that matters – that’s all that any of us have ever cared about. We’ll see you later. You and your friend.’
A quick smile up to the weathered, handsome face in the wheel house signalled reassurance, as well as love. Steaming from the harbour, the lone seal resurfaced, watching them on their way, while above the still screeching gulls now trailed in their foaming wake.
These words, based on the third definition of the word ‘whatever‘ , form my entry into the Trifecta 109 writing challenge