The following week seemed interminable. Each morning, Lucy would dress in her dock walking uniform, scrape her hair back into a neat ponytail, apply subtle make up, leave the crew house and head to Port Vauban or the station to head along the coast to other ports, a folder freshly printed CV’s tucked under her arm. Already, things seemed quieter, many boats having already left to start their seasons and, if they were in port, had the cushions and flowers out, a sure sign that there were guests on bo...