Sailing from Korčula to Koločep
They’d slipped from Lumbarda’s quayside before six, and even now, with the eastern tip of Kor?ula sliding away behind them, the sun was only just topping the hills of the Pelje?ac, a cool breeze filling Dida Krila’s sails.
It was a moment of calm, the sole sound the water washing gently against the hulls.
Ana relished it, completely alone on the fly deck, but with the comfort of knowing her friends were somewhere below.
Not that any of them had been particularly cheerful this morning, but that was understandable.
The outcome of Lloyd’s attempt to talk to Mirjana hung over them all, and there’d been none of their usual banter as they readied the catamaran to sail.
But Ana knew a day on the water would go a long way to restoring her equilibrium, and she hoped it would for the others too.
She looked at her phone, scrolling through the string of short messages that had accumulated between her and Ra? over the last few days.
It had started when she’d used the email on his website to make sure he had her number to fix their dinner date, and he’d sent her a photograph of a vine, asking her to guess which grape it was.
She’d had a feeling it was plavac mali, which was also grown on the shores of Malostonski Bay, and after a quick internet search to confirm it she had replied, earning herself five gold stars from Ra?’s Private Wine Academy, as he called it.
Lloyd’s damp head appeared at the top of the steps, and he carried a mug in each hand.
“Coffee for you, tea for me,” he said. “Then I might feel halfway human.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Not much. You know those thoughts you get at two in the morning? Well, one of them took hold.” He looked at her sideways. “Ana, be honest with me, should I resign? I want to do what’s best for the library.”
She hadn’t expected this. But why not? It was Lloyd all over to put the library first. “You have to do what’s right for you too, but there’s no need to rush into a decision.
When I looked at my emails before I turned in last night, I noticed I’d received an out-of-office message from Ivana in response to my weekly report.
She’s on holiday next week, and I’m hopping mad she didn’t tell me, but all the same it buys us some breathing space.
Once she’s back, she’ll be running out of time to recruit anyone else.
And there’s no way on god’s earth she’d find anyone as good as you anyway. ”
He smiled. “I have to say I’m relieved. Yesterday, after I saw Mirjana, well, obviously I was really low.
But after a while, I realised her attitude made me want to fight harder than ever for the library to succeed.
The trouble is, there’s sod all I can do on Kor?ula because there’s no way to clear my name. ”
“Well, let’s forget Kor?ula, shall we? Focus on the other islands.”
“But Kor?ula contributes so much of the money. What if they don’t commit to funding next year because of all this?”
Ana shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Let’s leave next year to look after itself, shall we?” she said, a little too carelessly.
“Have you made any decisions about your own future?”
She shrugged again. “A few.” She so didn’t want this conversation now. She wanted today to be about relaxing and dreaming up a suitably gorgeous photo of the sea to send with a quiz question for Ra?.
Lloyd took a sip of his tea. “I may be talking out of turn, but is there a reason you doubt your decision-making ability so much?” Clearly, he wasn’t going to let this go. Just when she didn’t need him reminding her of her father.
“My track record this summer ought to be enough.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
“Why? From where I’m sitting it’s the same as most people’s: a little bit wrong, but mainly right.
Like deciding to speak to the head teacher on Mljet about siting the library somewhere else.
That was a great idea; I never expected to lend out eight books on our first day at Sobra.
It makes me wonder why you lack so much confidence in that respect. ”
“I guess … I guess I haven’t had all that much practice.
I’ve never had a job with any responsibility, not until now.
I spent my twenties having fun, living in the city, moving from one place to another working in tourism, but never actually making a career of any of them.
Five day a week work so my weekends were free to go sailing with Dida. ”
“So sailing has always been your passion?”
“Totally.” Like she’d admitted to Ra?, she needed to be on the water, needed times like these to set her equilibrium right.
She couldn’t give it up, and yet if the library failed she still might have to.
But there was no way she was going to say it and add to Lloyd’s woes.
If he was going to fight even harder, then she would too.
But not today. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Ana looked around, judging the wind and the distance. She needed another way to head off his questions. “I’m going to tack in a minute. Where’s Natali?”
“Cleaning the fridge as though her life depends on it. Want me to help?”
“Please. Can you take the headsail?” It would get him down the steps and out of her hair.
Once he was in position, Ana leaned over the rail and yelled, “Ready to tack?” Lloyd’s thumb shot up in acknowledgement, and the sail billowed over her head as she steadied the boom with one hand and turned the wheel with the other, the spray licking Dida Krila’s hulls and sparkling in the sunlight.
It was beautiful, magical, and she felt as though her dida really was beside her.
She missed him so keenly at moments like this, yet all the same she knew she was only here because of him, and she was so damned grateful.
Next Saturday was Victory Day, when her parents always held a party in his honour.
It had been so special to him. More so than Christmas, more than his birthday, even, and he’d relished sharing it with both family and friends.
This year, Ana wanted her friends to be there too – Lloyd, Natali, and Meri, if she could make it.
Meri could certainly do with some fun; the stressful summer she was having made Ana’s pale into insignificance.
Zac and Tomi were still up and down, although over the last few days Meri had said she’d been given reason to hope.
Never mind that Pajo would most likely be at the party too, but she’d have to face him at some point and tell him she couldn’t keep their promise.
Since she’d postponed their dinner, he’d been ghosting her, totally ghosting her.
The only reason she was sure he’d seen her message was the tell-tale little blue ticks on the app.
He was sulking, she knew. It wouldn’t be the first time and it was nothing she couldn’t handle.
But Pajo wasn’t the real problem. Not anymore.
Not now she knew in her heart that motherhood wasn’t for her.
But telling her parents still played heavily on her mind.
Maybe if she offered to put Dida Krila into their business it might soften the blow.
Could she even do that? The way things were looking, she might very well have to.