Chapter 8 Cleo
Cleo
The ship is buzzing with anticipation and excitement. The crew look focused as they move around the carrier with a professionalism that sends shivers down my spine.
I’ve been Navy adjacent my entire life, but this is the first time I’m witnessing it in all its glory. Dad always spoke of his time on board, but I was either too young or too pissed off to really understand what he was talking about.
The camaraderie is palpable as the sailors work in unison, checking equipment and running tests.
Officers bark orders as I slip through the ship, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
It’s important that I see this, though. The real Royal Navy, and not just what I’m fed through my father and his office.
He wants an article that will help with recruitment, and I want to see the truth.
It’s the only way I can write an honest piece.
A not-so-small part of me wants to understand my dad, too. He chose this over me and mum, time and again. So maybe I can finally understand why. What did this give him that we couldn’t?
I settle on the bridge with Captain Morley. A thrill coils in my stomach as her authoritative voice booms through the room. It’s impressive to watch. She’s impressive.
A junior officer reports a minor equipment malfunction. Captain Morley doesn’t flinch. She asks two questions, makes a decision, and moves on. No panic, no hesitation. Just calm, absolute command.
My mind wanders to River. I’m curious to see her working. Is she the same cocksure sailor I witnessed in the bar last night? Then again, she didn’t look so confident when she caught up with us at the security gate.
Her rounded shoulders and agitated mood spoke of something less than pleasing. Had something happened with the woman she took to the bathroom? Maybe she had a girlfriend and River got caught up in a lover’s quarrel. Maybe the alcohol caught up to her, and she was feeling sick?
No, it was more than that. She could barely look at her crewmates, let alone me.
The exchange in the shower was strange, too. The stubbed toe was a lie. She called out in frustration, not pain.
I wonder if she’s feeling better today?
Why do I care? Why am I spending mental energy analysing River Dawson’s mood when I should be focused on my article?
Shaking my head, I refocus. The ship is finally moving out of port. It’s a bizarre yet exhilarating moment. HMS Queen Elizabeth is a behemoth of a ship. It’s akin to a floating city, and yet Captain Morley is commanding it as if she were on a sailboat. She’s utterly relaxed.
As much as I want to dive right in with interviews, I need to bide my time. The last thing anyone needs is me getting in the way, and as far as I can see, every sailor aboard is busy.
Taking one last look at the horizon, I reach for the camera looped around my neck. Taking some action shots will prove less invasive than asking questions, and it means I can wander around the ship, soaking up the atmosphere.
By the time we are out of the port and sailing towards the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, I’ve racked up a few hundred photos and God knows how many steps. My feet hurt and my eyes feel tired.
Taking advantage of the fact everyone is at work, I slip into the dining hall. There are a few sailors who were on the night shift, now enjoying their breakfast. I settle at a table and bring out my laptop.
Getting lost in photo editing isn’t something I usually do, but I find it therapeutic. Yes, I wish my editor had granted me a photographer, but in lieu of that I think I’ve done a decent job.
The familiar voice of Cheddar cuts through the quiet din. I haven’t seen her since last night. By all accounts her evening went much better than River’s, if her boasting is anything to go by.
“I’m tellin’ ya Rome, she was freaky. The quiet ones always are, I reckon.”
“Glad you had fun, mate,” River replies.
I study her for a moment. Yes, she’s still…off. I might not know her well, but at a guess, I would think she’d normally be hyping up Cheddar’s conquest, getting in on the banter, but she’s not. Her body language is the same as last night, after the club. Subdued.
Kit and Boot trail behind. It’s Kit who notices me and waves.
She steers the group in my direction, and I’m not sure if I’m happy about it.
I enjoyed my evening with them, and I could see us being friends, but this thing with River still feels like…
a thing. The way she was staring at me as I danced with Laura, the flash of irritation I saw cross her face.
Something tells me we’re not done with each other.
Or should I say, River isn’t done with me.
“Cleo, how’s it going?” Kit asks as they arrive at the table. Boot rounds the table and stares at the photos on my laptop. Cheddar picks up my camera with the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas. River hangs back, her hands go straight to her pockets, and I can see she wants to be anywhere but here.
“Good. How’s your first day back at work?”
Kit shrugs. “Eh, this isn’t anything new. Business as usual.”
“And Cheddar? Hangover, or not?”
Cheddar grins, still fiddling with my camera. “Minor one. If anything, I’m just knackered.”
I give her a knowing smile. “Had fun then?”
She winks. “Just what I needed. I’m set for the next few weeks, unlike this lot.” Hooking a thumb at her friends. “Two months on this tub without the feel of a woman, and they didn’t give themselves some relief beforehand. Rookie move.”
River looks like she’s about to run away.
“And Romeo here,” Cheddar continues. She turns to River. “You still haven’t explained what happened. You were on for a sure thing with Tessa.”
River grits her teeth. It’s a subtle move, but I see the flex in her jaw. “She’d drunk too much. You know I’m about clear consent. She wasn’t in a fit state to give it.”
There’s a look shared between Kit and River that has me intrigued. There’s a story there. Kit knows something, and whatever River told her it’s connected to last night.
My journalist brain files it away, even as I tell myself it doesn’t matter.
Cheddar didn’t notice, and Boot isn’t even paying attention to the conversation.
“Yeah, fair enough then. Still, shitty for you, mate,” Cheddar says, heading for the coffee pot.
“These are really good, Cleo,” Boot suddenly says. I tear my attention away from River.
“Thanks. I’m no professional but I’m pleased with them.”
The women spend the next twenty minutes flicking through the photos and asking questions. River doesn’t leave, but she also doesn’t really get involved.
By the time their break is over, River is champing at the bit to leave.
They have another five hours on shift and then they’re done for the day.
Kit invited me to a card night, which I accepted.
I hope River is okay with that. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable around me, or like I’m invading her space.
Then again, it was her idea to start afresh.
“You’re cheating,” Cheddar cries as she flings her cards down. Kit is laughing herself into a coughing fit, Boot claps and does a strange little dance, and River shakes her head, smiling.
I lay my palm open and wait for what I’m owed. A six-pack of Wotsits.
“You’re just bad at poker.” I laugh.
We’ve been playing for the past hour, and I’ve wiped the floor with all of them. Cheddar was the only one who came close to beating me, which made her cocky. Nothing new there. But she overreached, and is now six bags of her precious Wotsits poorer for it.
Wiping away her tears, Kit slaps Cheddar on the back. “I gotta say, Cheds. It’s a marvellous thing watching you get taken down a peg or two.”
“Rude,” Cheddar replies, but she’s smiling.
“Necessary,” Kit shoots back. “We’ve got enough with River and her massive ego. I can’t deal with you too!”
“Hey, don’t bring me into it,” River calls from the other side of the lounge. “Who wants another beer?”
We all raise our hands.
“One more round,” Cheddar demands. She’s already shuffling the cards. Boot and Kit take their places at the table. River sets our drinks down and settles next to me.
I’ll be honest, her presence right next to me has been a little distracting. Every time she reaches for her beer, her arm brushes mine. When she laughs at Cheddar’s terrible bluff, the sound does something to my stomach.
She’s hot without even trying.
We’ve established my weakness for a woman in a uniform, but something about River in particular has my legs feeling unsteady every time I look at her.
It’s the bad girl thing. The undeniable confidence she is the sexiest person in the room…
and knows it. She both excites me and pisses me off.
It’s why she’s dangerous for me. Shit, I should have taken Laura up on her offer to have a good time.
Maybe then I wouldn’t be thinking of River in a way that would make my therapist groan in frustration.
Dr Patel would have a field day with this. “Cleo, you’re attracted to unavailability,” she’d say in that patient voice. “Women who can’t give you what you need.”
River Dawson is the poster child for unavailable.
Maybe another beer isn’t such a great idea. We’re only on day one of a two-month stretch at sea. I can’t lose focus now. Instead, I pick up my cards and proceed to take another six-pack of Wotsits from Cheddar.
It’s close to midnight before we call it. They all have a full day’s work ahead of them and an inspection in the morning. I get the feeling that WO Benson is a difficult man to please. River seemed extra salty when Kit reminded her they needed to get the bunkroom prepared for his visit.
“Can I walk you to your quarters?” River asks as I pick up my belongings. Her voice is soft, and her eyes aren’t quite meeting mine.
“Um, sure.”
I bid everyone goodnight and step into the passageway. I smile at a couple of sailors passing by. River steps out behind me.
“I wondered if you’d participate in an interview,” I say. It makes sense to interview River. She’ll be spending more time with me than anyone else, and I can use her as a stepping-off point while I work out the shifts of the other sailors I intend to speak with.
Her hands are in her pockets again. She looks at me briefly before dropping eye contact. “Yeah, if you want. It’d need to be after my shift. Or next week when I escort you around.”
Ah yes, the babysitting gig. It’s a waste of River’s time. I’m more than capable of getting around the ship unaided, but I don’t want my dad giving the captain grief.
“Tomorrow would be great.”
She nods. I smile. It’s awkward.
We arrive at my cabin, and I don’t know what to do. I have the overwhelming urge to hug her, but that’s inappropriate. She just looks so…lost. It’s throwing me. This isn’t the cocky sailor from the bar, or even the awkward woman from the shower. This is someone else entirely.
“Hey, are you okay?” The question leaves my lips before I can overthink it.
Her eyes flick to mine and then down to my lips. My breath catches. The air between us shifts.
She clears her throat and stands straighter. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. Long day.”
She’s full of shit, but I don’t know her well enough to call her on it.
She bites her lip. It looks like she’s having an internal argument. “You seemed to have a good time last night.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. “I did. It was nice to get out and dance.”
“You…you hit it off with that woman.”
“She was nice.”
I don’t know where this is going. Wait. Is River…jealous? No. That doesn’t make sense. She left with someone else. But the way she’s looking at me right now…
My body, on the other hand, tells me exactly where it wants the conversation to go.
River shuffles on the spot. Her eyes are back on my lips, and I find myself swaying forward.
River’s eyes darken. She leans in, just a fraction. Close enough that I can feel her breath.
The laughter of several sailors heading our way breaks the tension. I take a step back and open my cabin door. My heart is pounding in my ears.
“Thanks for walking me back, River. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My door closes behind me before she has the chance to reply. A part of me wants her to knock on the door, push into the room and fuck me until I can’t walk.
The more sensible part of me knows I just dodged a bullet. Another roll in the sack would be great for an hour or two, but then what? Awkward mornings? Tension during interviews? My father finding out?
No. Not worth it.
I press my back against the door and wait for my heart to stop racing.