Rachel is pushing against the control and barriers to freedom her parents enforce. Those rebellious teen years might arrive earlier than expected.

Locking her bike’s rear wheel to a bike stand on the wide pavement beside the beach Rachel couldn’t stop looking, and had to lock the chain by feel as her eyes had more important things to look at. Except to note the steps to the beach her eyes stayed locked on the yachts. How didn’t they hit each other, and how did they know what the others were going to do, and was it safe to have such tiny boats in the sea? What were they all doing here at the same time? Usually she would see a couple of ferries, perhaps a hovercraft and a naval ship or two. Sometimes there were groups of yachts but never this many so close to each other and so close to her, and so small.

Rachel felt that if she just entered the water a little way and reached out she could touch the sails of the ones that were nearer. More importantly each yacht had one passenger, one female passenger. True the girls were older than her, probably late teens or in their early twenties, but this was obviously something girls did, and it seemed far more boyish than anything her parents ever let her do. Not one of them wore a bloody dress. Nope skin tight wet suits just like male surfers wore. The interest in the numerous tiny yachts had her ignore the pain as the rather more stony than sandy beach poked into her feet through the thin soles of the plimsolls she’d opted to wear today.

Unfortunately, it was the tail end Charlies that had been sailing close to the shore and they having passed between the near buoy and one further out, swung back heading southeast into the Solent where the leaders sailed. Aside glancing to see there were no other yachts heading to the turn just off the coast, just a motor boat with two people in it about twenty feet further off the coast than the further buoy. Rachel returned to watching the front group of yachts while wondering if they would return here again. The front group was now sort of sailing west parallel to the coast, but zigzagging that westerly direction, while the tail end Charlies were still sailing straight southeast likely toward a buoy Rachel couldn’t see.

There was another motor boat sitting close just inside where the yachts were turning. It probably like the one close to the shore was there to ensure the yachts didn’t cut the corner. Rachel strained her eyes looking southwest and figured there was a third motorboat sitting there. Likely the third corner of a triangular track. The only odd thing was there was a fourth motor boat a hundred or so yards ‘west-ish’ of that third boat so maybe that was the turning point? As soon as the straggling yachts made the turn at what Rachel was calling the second buoy they stopped sailing straight and started the odd zigzagging method of creeping toward the west.

Near her a couple each with binoculars were looking at the yachts. “Come on Michelle keep tight on the buoy. No, you let her steal your wind.” The woman said.

“She had to yield, ‘four-three-seven’ had a better line on the buoy and right of way dear.” The ‘husband’? tried to calm the woman. “There’s plenty of race left for her to recover. Oh hello, who do you have in the event?” The man asked Rachel seeing her avidly watching the regatta leading group that had turned to sail back toward them. Hopefully it wasn’t ‘four-three-seven’ that was clearly in the lead sailing straight north east toward them, blocking the view of his daughter’s dinghy that should be still in second place just behind.

“No one. I just have never seen so many tiny yachts. How do they not hit each other?” Rachel asked tearing her eyes off long enough to see both of the couple now looking at her. The yachts had turned after the third motor boat so the fourth likely had nothing to do with the race. However, all four boats looked similar.

“They’re dinghies. In general yachts are at least twenty three feet long. These laser radials are about ten feet too short to be called yachts.” The man informed Rachel, while his ‘wife’? looked around the beach.

“Anyway young lady what is your name and how old are you?” She asked, and after getting it she finally asked in concern. “Are your parents on the beach?”

“No, I rode here on my bike from New Brighton. I just have never seen so many ya… I mean dinghies.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?” The lady continued to hold the interrogation.

“Well no but this is closer than Chichester, and I’m allowed to cycle to there and on the South Downs up to Uppark and between Chichester and the A3. I just mustn’t cycle on or across the A3 or A27, except into Emsworth.” Rachel quickly tried to reassure them. She was actually only allowed to cycle to West Broyle and East Lavant, but as those were on the outskirts of Chichester and less well known it was easier to list Chichester as the boundary point.

“It would appear you violated your parents boundaries as you are south of the A27 to be here.” The man shrewdly stated.

“Oh, I used the pedestrian foot-bridge-tunnel in Havant to not cross the A27.” Rachel quickly defended.

While the woman pursed her lips and looked about to tell Rachel off, the man had a good laugh. “We have a solicitor to be in this one. So you have Misses Young as your teacher at the primary school, yes?”

“I skipped her form I’m in Warblington secondary.”

“She teaches third, if you skipped her class you would be in fourth.” The lady informed.

“From infants I skipped first form into Miss White’s second form. Then I skipped Misses Young’s class and went into Misses Moss’s class. This school year I am in first form at Warblington.

“Well I think I’ve found my new partner, dear.”

“You’ll have retired before she gets her degree.”

“Not if she keeps skipping forms I won’t.” The gentleman had another laugh.

At this point dinghy four-seven-three appeared to be almost aiming to ram into the beach and spectators, the dinghy of course was getting closer to them with the lady sat but leaning her upper part of her body out of the boat toward them as if she was trying to pull the dinghy a bit more toward the coast. Rachel out of the corner of her eye saw the boom of the sail fly towards them and the sailor was leaning away from them. How had she got over there and not been hit by the boom? She wasn’t sat but stood on the other side and stopping the boat from rolling toward them. Rachel could see the sea nearly level with the top edge of the closer side. How did she know the dinghy wouldn’t capsize? The two sails were both nearly low enough to hit the top of the buoy. The sailor seemed to be leaning so far out on the way higher seaboard side to stop the side closer to the beach of the dinghy submerging beneath the surf that the dinghy cut diagonally back against.

Hard on her stern with an opposite attack Rachel watched dinghy six-one-one whose woman was leaning slightly in the opposite direction. The boat tilted about half the angle as the first but seaward so Rachel could see the hull of the dinghy. Suddenly, the lady seemed to step into the boat swing her body down leaning backwards and around allowing the boom to fly in a super fast limbo parody where the limbo bar moved as well as the leaning back limbo dancer twisted. She stepped onto the opposite edge from the one she’d been sitting on before and leaned away from the coast trying to drag her dinghy off its prior near collision course with the rear of boat in front as she took the outside of the far buoy as tightly if not more so than the dinghy before took the inside of the nearer one. Rachel was sure for a moment with cresting surf that the closer side of the dinghy was momentarily below water, but it might be the angle and the boat was further out. The sailor seemed to be leaning over the top of the buoy and she wondered if it was just the boat or both boat and sailor that had to be outside of the buoy on a turn.

“What does your Dad do young lady?” The man returned to questioning Rachel after the next half dozen dinghies that made up the leader group had made the corner near them. There was a large gap to the next group sailing for the coast. The last of the race still hadn’t rounded the third buoy.

“He’s in the Royal Navy.” Rachel proudly said, and was slightly put out on the disappointment or worse registering on his face. In fact he suddenly realized he was forgetting the race and apparently to Rachel’s thinking no longer interested in her as he pulled up his binoculars to try to find what was going on as the lead group attacked the second buoy.

“Dear, our daughter is in the lead!” He exclaimed.

As both returned to looking at the event Rachel decided to shuffle back to her bike. Being reminded of the dinghies though caused her to be caught up once more so she wasn’t making a true swift get away. There was a straggling tail of dinghies yet to make the turn near where they stood and the boom swing as they turned at the buoy was exciting to watch. Especially the way the dinghies tilted.

“Rachel as soon as the race is over we are heading back to Emsworth Yacht Club. We’ll give you a lift because I don’t think your parents will be happy to know you crossed the A27.” The lady said.

“I have my bike, and I really enjoy riding.” Rachel said. The expression had made her realize that she was offering too much information to complete strangers. She quickly made her way back to the bike, hopefully she’d be well gone before the race ended. As she unlocked the chain she glanced back to see both looking at the race once more. She’d ride along the beach so she could watch the race while getting further away, Rachel decided.

Rachel chose to carry on north when she got to Havant, so if asked she could truthfully say she had ridden on the South Downs. Thus instead of heading east with the sun behind her she kept on to Rowlands Castle and then got the welcome shade from trees as she carried on gently climbing toward West Marden.

Seeing it was nearly five she aborted the trip to West Marden and headed South through Forestside and a nearly direct southerly route to Emsworth. The majority of the trip back home was downhill so Rachel made excellent time. She was pulling into the driveway and opening the gate to the back garden at barely gone five-fifty. She was therefore startled to be addressed as if she’d returned late from her Mum who had exited the French windows onto the rear porch.

“And where have you been young lady?”

“It’s only five-fifty. I was on the South Downs.”

“Really, the South Downs, all day?”

“I just came back off the Downs through Forestside, Aldsworth and Westbourne.”

“So you were on the Downs all day?” Mum unfortunately didn’t get distracted by Rachel’s initial attempt to deflect.

“Of course not I only left in the afternoon and went to Havant first. I had some chips and scraps in Havant, and from Havant I went north through Durrants and Rowling castle.”

“So on this epic bike tour where would you be around one to two o’clock.”

“I think about both one and two o’clock I was in Havant.”

“You spent an hour just sitting in Havant?”

“No I said I got chips and scraps from Havant. So I would be eating those around that time and I cycled out of Havant to be away from the busy town center.”

“Can you explain why Misses Young says the Collins saw you on Hayling Island beach around one-thirty then?”

“Misses Young, as in Sally’s teacher?”

“That’s the one. Mister Collins is her brother. He was with his wife watching their daughter sailing in the regatta off Hayling Island Beach.”

“Shi… …ps sailing around Hayling Island?”

Rachel’s Mum looked to let her know she hadn’t gotten away with that one either but was concentrating on what she was most unhappy about first. “Of course there are very few girls in Hampshire that skip two years of primary school.You’re the only child to do it in our primary’s history as a school, so when Mister Collins rang his sister, she easily identified who the girl was and later called me. A girl who admitted to the Collins she isn’t allowed to cross the A27, when she had to have done so in order to be where she was, and has a Father in the Royal Navy.

“Put your bike away in the shed properly and then we will talk young lady. I don’t think you’ve done any piano practice recently. There’ve been only your rough clothes in the laundry.” Rachel’s mum informed her.

Rachel wished she’d remembered the warning to not talk to strangers sooner. She was so grounded. Worse it would appear piano torture was going to be increased.