The original opening to A Small Place in the Sun

                                    A small place in the Sun




                                          Chapter one.
                                            Mr. Lucky

George Grant sighed as he sat in his command chair in the pilot house of his ship, the Antelope. He idly scanned the various screens in front of him. His GPS, the two radar screens, and then checked the instruments reading out the engine temperature, the oil, and the fuel levels. It was late into his night shift , and he was alone. He wasn't tired, just lonely up there looking out into the darkness of the night on a fairly calm sea. Four hours on and eight hours off. He envied his four companions, at least they took their watches in pairs of two. Still, it was quiet and he could think about what was awaiting them at the end of this strange voyage. “Strange is putting it mildly.” He said aloud to himself as the thought struck him. He shook his head, took another sip of the now cold coffee in his cup and started to think back about his life and just how he ended up where he now found himself.

His early life had not been an easy one, Brought up within a broken home by his mother, who worked two jobs to make ends meet. Not an easy thing to do in Paisley Scotland, during the recession of the second half of the 1970's. George was always in trouble with the police. He was a smart kid, but didn't take anything seriously. That changed when he turned 16, with his grades being low, he now had to look for work, and there was none to be had. So he joined the Army in 1980. The army changed him drastically, he thrived in it, and by 1982 he found himself in the Scots Guards second Battalion.

Instead of guarding the Queen, dressed smartly in the famous red coated parade uniform. He found himself still in battle dress sailing south for the Falkland Islands. He took part in the fierce battle for Mount Tumbledown, making the charge up the slope and fighting hand to hand with the Argentine defenders. It was his baptism into a life that would see him go to many hot spots of conflict around the world over the next ten years of his life. He ended his career serving in the famous Special Air Service, Britain's special forces unit, known the world over as simply, the S.A.S. taking part in operations during the first Gulf War. He was 28 at the time, and was already a widower. His wife, whom he had only married a year before, killed in a terrorist  bomb blast that killed 15 people in Sussex, where she was staying with her family while he was away. He retired after the war and took jobs for a time as a private bodyguard to the rich and spoiled, Rock stars,  and Hollywood stars on vacation in Europe, saving the money toward tuition for school and a degree. With very hard work he graduated from Oxford University in 2002 at the age of thirty eight.

After graduation he wanted a change, he wanted to get away from everything that reminded him of his old life, a mother he no longer spoke to, a wife he had hardly known really, his deployment to the middle east had taken him away from her for 7 months. He had been flown back in time for the funeral and had felt like a stranger. He also felt like he had betrayed her somehow, in not being there, in not somehow stopping the terrorists who took her life away.

He applied to several schools in the United States and was accepted by the University of Southern California as a History professor. Life in California had been good, he enjoyed teaching, he enjoyed the weather. He bought a modest house in Pasadena. He had many friends, but there was something missing. His friends would set him up with dates, but he just never connected with any of the women he was introduced to. After several failed relationships he began to push his friends away when they pestered him, they soon gave up trying.

He played the California Lottery every now and again, buying a quick pick every once in a while and letting it sit in his wallet for a few weeks before remembering to check if it was a winner or not. He started playing the mega Lotto too and often would have two tickets stuck in his wallet at a time.

Then, it happened, it was just before New Year's when he went into Jack's liquor store for the bottle of 30 year old Glenfiddich single malt scotch he ordered every year. As he pulled the money from his wallet, he asked the man behind the counter to check his crumpled ticket. “What?” He asked as the clerk told him he had won. “What did I have, three of the numbers?”

“No sir. You have them all, you won Seventy five million dollars man!”

George numbly took the ticket back with the information on where to turn it in. Several days later he had his second ticket checked and had won another fifty four million. He hated the celebrity sensation that all of this caused him. He had to change his phone number, because of all the calls. The university administration pestered him about donating money, and grants. George wasn't sure what to do with the winnings, he sought another good friend of his who was in the stock market trade to discuss his options.

Over the months his money began to return huge profits.  The invasion of his privacy continued to escalate. He had to end up leaving his home, staying at a friend's house in Long Beach. He decided a new life change was in order. He spent an evening looking through the Internet and found that the Bahamas were actually selling islands to private ownership.  He chose the largest one, in the southern chain and bought it. Then he wrote his letter of resignation from the faculty.



Peggy Higgins was a  Professor at USC's Wrigley Institute for Environmental Studies, located on Catalina island. The instruction there focused on marine and terrestrial research and educational activities. She would sometimes stay at the facility rather then commute every day on the channel ferries. So it was an easy decision for her to offer her home as a refuge from the Paparazzi, and all the solicitors that tried to follow him everywhere. George had to use all the skills he he had learned in the S.A.S. to evade his pursuers that tried to follow him from the campus.

There was one problem with the arrangement though, George had a hobby, a hobby that took up a lot of space, he loved radio controlled planes, and had quite a collection of them, many were jets and they were quite large in scale. With his wealth he had started on a new project, a model jet built with real titanium, with jet engines of his own design.

“Geordie,” Peggy said one night, using a nick name only his closest friends called him by. “I wish you wouldn't bring this stuff here! It's a wonder you can get in and out of your room with all of that stuff. And I am so damned afraid you are going to burn my house down.”

“I am sorry Peg, but not tae worry luv! I've bought a ship and I'll be oot o your hair soon enough, I'm just waitin for it tae be delivered. Thanks fer lettin me stay here these past few weeks. But, it wont be long till they find me here, and I dont want tae cause you any o' the troubles I have tae deal wi. They used a helicopter tae follow me today.”

“It's no trouble really, Geordie. Look I have a date with Steve tonight, why don't you get dressed and come along, I could call my friend Carrol, she teaches History at the High School here, I am sure you two would hit it off, she's been divorced for five years now.”

“Naw Peg, you go on and have a good time wi Steven. I'm just fine here, and no worries, I'll put my toys away by the time you get home.” He said with a smile. “Go on now.”


Two weeks went by and George got a call from the ship broker. His Yacht had arrived. She was a beautiful seventy six foot northwest trawler, built to sail anywhere. George had bought it second-hand, but she was only a year old and had hardly been used, the owner had been forced to sell her due to the current state of the economy. The interior gleamed with polished rare wood walls and a teak and holly floor. The Brokerage had already gone over the ship's systems and engine, and had pronounced the ship fully fit and ready. George invited his friends to the moving and christening ceremony.

After they had gotten his effects on board and had looked around and drank some Glenfiddich to toast the ship, Peggy turned to him and said, waving her arms about for effect. “What made you buy this huge thing? You need a crew to operate it! I know you got the money to waste! But this?”

“Well, I haven't told you yet, but I also wasted money on buying an island in the Caribbean too! I kind o need this ship tae get me there and live aboard till I decide what tae do next.” George answered, grinning a bit sheepishly. “Besides I can operate the ship for short cruises myself, but aye, I will need a crew when I leave.”

George's friends all stood open mouthed for a few moments taking everything he had said in slowly.  

Steven Winslow, Peggy's boyfriend, and one of George's friends, an English teacher at USC was the first to speak. “You told me you needed to get away Geordie, but an island? Aren't you being a little dramatic about all this? It will die down you know.”

“Och weel, “ George stated, always his accent would become overstated and his speech would quicken when he was flustered. “There's mair tae it then just all the badgerin and such, I'm forty four and I want tae do somethin for me jist once.”

“Slow down there Scotty, Your mouth is going warp speed again and we cant keep up when you start blatherin like that.” Peggy said with a grin. “Are you having your mid life crisis?”

George stopped and looked at her for a moment. “No.... I.... am.... NOT... havin.... a CRISIS! I am just looking for something, something new, something that I know I want, I just don't know what it is yet.”