Chapter 11
On Friday morning, when I open the curtains, sunlight glitters on the waves like scattered diamonds. The view is exhilarating – I feel a strange mixture of peace and excitement. But then, both sensations give way to apprehension when I recall what the day holds.
An afternoon with Ollie on his boat.
It’s best that I cancel. I’m tired from a week of having builders round to quote, clearing out more of the bar area, and worrying about the food that’s still going missing.
Every day, Connor goes off for hours on end with his friend Med, and I’m sure Bridget won’t agree to keep tabs on him.
But when, mid-morning, Elspeth comes round and offers to take the kids to the shops in the county town of Truro, I really have no excuse.
Besides, if I’m being honest… I want to go.
A lot.
I enjoy the quiet and use the time to get ready.
I worry over what to wear – sundress or capri pants and T-shirt – eventually settling on the latter.
Then I fuss with my make-up and hair, spending almost as much time in the bathroom as Bridget does, putting in a great effort to create a look that appears effortless.
By the time I’ve finished, it’s almost noon.
I look out of the kitchen window and see the elegant triple-masted ship on the horizon.
My stomach vaults with nerves and anticipation.
I grab my water bottle and jacket and leave the house, heading down the path to the cove.
The ship draws nearer. My heart misses a beat when I see Ollie come to the bow of the boat, his dark-blond hair windswept and unruly.
He raises a hand to wave and I wave back, smiling.
He’s not alone; several other crew members are on deck working the sails and steering.
Clearly, the barque requires a number of people to sail it, and it’s also too large to come into the shallow water.
The men lower a small outboard boat and Ollie speeds towards me.
The tide is in, so he’s able to come all the way inside the breakwater.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘It’s a perfect day for it.’
‘It is.’ I take the hand he offers and get into the boat.
The small craft pitches and bucks in the wake of the larger boat further out.
I grip the sides as we speed off, but soon my residual nerves give way to exhilaration.
It’s a glorious feeling to be on the water, and even better to be at sea with my handsome Pirate King.
I know that strictly speaking, he’s not my anything.
But right now, I feel like anything’s possible.
The motor is too loud for conversation, but we quickly reach the larger boat and Ollie cuts the engine.
One of the other men helps us climb a wooden ladder at the side of the boat.
Once I’m aboard, one of the crew climbs down into the smaller boat.
Ollie hands him a pack and the man speeds off.
‘He’s got an errand to run, but he’ll be here when we return,’ Ollie explains.
‘As you can see, this craft isn’t exactly the easiest to dock in a shallow harbour. ’
‘It’s a beautiful boat,’ I say.
‘She’s my flagship,’ he says. ‘I’ve also got a sailing boat and a catamaran, but I wanted to bring out the big guns for you.’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
He takes my hand; my pulse jolts. ‘Let me give you the grand tour.’
‘Please do.’
He leads me around the boat. It smells of tar and salt and ropes, and the wood is polished to a high gleam.
The fittings are brass and the sails are white and billowing.
I feel like I’ve boarded a ship to Neverland, and maybe I have.
At the prow of the boat, Ollie shows me the figurehead of a winged woman – a halcyon bird, he tells me.
‘It comes from the Greek myth of Alcyone,’ he says. ‘She was turned into a kingfisher and the gods calmed the waters so she could nest. Or something.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he says. ‘Though I admit Will’s more into things like that, not me.
I can trot out the odd story if anyone’s interested, but most people aren’t.
They just want a booze cruise for a corporate away day or a stag or hen do.
Occasionally, we’ll have a family reunion aboard or a birthday party, and sometimes even individuals – rich blokes who want to get away from it all and fish.
We can cater for up to twelve, anywhere from an afternoon to an entire week. ’
‘And do you do night cruises too?’ Now that I’m on board, it occurs to me that this is the most likely explanation for the ghost ship. ‘Because I thought I saw a ship like this a few times late at night from the window of the inn.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘Never. We always anchor in a harbour after sunset. The rocks are too dangerous along this coast and the tide is always changing. It’s just safer that way. And once the booze is flowing, the punters don’t know if we’re coming or going.’
‘I guess that makes sense.’
‘Yes, we’re all about health and safety.’
The crew unfurl the mainsail; the barque moves speedily over the waves. I stop worrying about ghost ships, and even forget to feel self-conscious. It just feels good to be out, with the sun on my face and the spray misting my skin, all in the company of a very handsome man.
‘It’s amazing,’ I say. ‘And the view!’
It’s fascinating to see the inn and Penglas Cove from a different perspective.
The cliffs are especially interesting – pockmarked with all manner of caves, rocks, and indentations.
I can see why Connor enjoys exploring, but I also feel an increased sense of trepidation that there are quite so many places for him potentially to get lost or come to harm.
But Connor and Bridget are with Elspeth, so I push such worries from my mind. All I want to do right now is enjoy myself. I was afraid I’d forgotten how, but on this day, with this man, it’s all starting to come back to me.
He introduces me to the crewmen, of which there are four on board. To me, they seem a bit surly and off-putting, but he tells me that they’ve all been with him for a few years, and are completely trustworthy. They certainly seem competent to sail the boat, and we race out of the bay at full sail.
We finish the tour by going down to the cabins below. There’s a small galley, a loo, and a captain’s cabin at the stern of the boat with walls of polished wood, built-in seating and a long, carved table that’s set for two, including champagne and a selection of fruit, pastries, and sandwiches.
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ Ollie says. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I put on the full spread.’
‘Oh, Ollie.’ I gush like a schoolgirl. ‘Thank you. This is wonderful.’
I can’t quite believe this is my life as he takes the plastic wrap off the fruit and pops the cork on the bottle of champagne. He smiles at me as we clink glasses, and I raise a toast to new beginnings.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ he says.
We tuck into the delicious spread. Pretty soon, I’m full to bursting, both with food and with joie de vivre. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good – this comfortable – with a man.
He tells me about his business, making me laugh with anecdotes about some of the rich punters he’s had aboard.
Clearly, he loves his job, and is making a good fist of it.
I’ve never considered myself much of a sailor, and I was worried I might be seasick.
But I find that I love the motion of the boat, especially when he takes the champagne bottle and we go on deck.
There, I stand at the bow, Titanic-style, my clothing billowing, my hair whipping my face until tears come to my eyes.
He stands beside me and takes the glass from my hand, setting it down along with his, next to the bottle. Then, he draws me into his arms and kisses me.
Exhilaration becomes ecstasy; I kiss him back hungrily.
His mouth tastes of salt and champagne; his body is a warm counterpoint to the chill breeze as he presses himself against me.
A little voice tries to inveigle itself into my head, telling me to slow down, think this through, but I don’t want to.
We sit on a bench at the front of the boat and kiss some more.
I feel like a teenager, like a bride, like a…
woman… for the first time in so long. It’s amazing, but a little scary too.
I’m not used to attention from a very good-looking man, with a very good-looking boat.
I’m a single woman who’s pushing forty, with two kids.
As romantic as this is, I’m not kidding myself—
He pulls back; I sense him sensing my doubts.
‘You OK?’ he says.
‘Yes,’ I say, breathless. ‘It’s just… why me?’
He laughs heartily, his eyes glinting. ‘Are you serious? You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in a long time.’ He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. ‘I mean, you’re gorgeous – you know that, right?’
I blush, feeling suddenly shy. Do I know that? Could I just go with it? Should I surrender my misgivings and see where this leads?
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘It’s just—’
But I’m saved from having to finish the thought. From behind us, there’s a sharp wail of a siren.
‘Code blue, boss!’ one of the crewmen shouts.
In an instant, Ollie’s face hardens and he gets to his feet. ‘Sorry, Juno,’ he says to me. ‘Stay here – I’ll be right back.’
He goes over to join the skipper at the side of the barque where a police boat has pulled up alongside. A conversation ensues with a uniformed officer, but I can’t catch the words other than ‘checking everyone’ and ‘very serious’.
Two of the policemen prepare to board the barque.
‘Is this really necessary?’ Ollie says.
I get to my feet as the officers come on board. Ollie steps back, shaking his head. One of the officers starts searching the equipment stores and the other goes below. Ollie makes to follow the second one.
‘Is everything OK?’ I say as Ollie goes past me to the stairs.
He stops walking and frowns like he forgot I was on board.
‘Yes, it’s all fine,’ he says. ‘Nothing to worry about. The police are looking to bust up a smuggling ring, and I’m helping them keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. But they have to keep up the pretext of searching every boat, even mine. So I guess it’s just our lucky day.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘That sounds inconvenient.’
‘That’s for sure.’
He goes down the stairs. If he’s working with the authorities, then why is he so put out? Clearly, the police aren’t going to find anything, and if they want to waste their time, then what’s it to us? But of course… there is no us.
The officer on deck comes over to me.
‘Hello, ma’am.’ He takes out his phone and shows me a photo. It’s of a family – a woman and three children. Brown-skinned and dark-haired, they look to me like they might be of middle-eastern origin.
‘Have you seen any of these people?’ he says.
I peer at the photo, then at the man. ‘No, I haven’t. Why?’
‘They’re missing,’ he says. ‘We’ve been contacted by their relatives.’
‘The entire family is missing?’
‘Yes.’ He shakes his head. ‘People trafficking is a bad business.’
‘Oh.’ I put a hand to my mouth. ‘That… really happens… around here?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ he says. ‘So we’re searching all likely vessels.’
‘And this is a likely vessel? Ollie says he’s helping you.’
‘That’s one way to look at it.’
He’s interrupted by the other officer coming up from the hold, followed by Ollie. ‘All clear, boss,’ he says.
‘Of course it is,’ Ollie says. ‘Do you really think I’d be doing something criminal while I’m on the boat with my girlfriend?’
Girlfriend?
The two officers look at me. I give them an embarrassed smile and say nothing.
‘You know the drill, Ollie,’ the older officer says.
‘I know that you’re wasting precious time,’ Ollie says. ‘There’s a family whose lives may be in danger.’
The older officer and Ollie glare at each other. The younger officer seems a little unsettled by the hostility between them, and turns back to me.
‘Sorry to disturb your day out, ma’am,’ he says, ‘but if you can keep your eyes peeled, we’d appreciate it.’
‘I definitely will,’ I say. ‘Good luck with your search.’
‘Thank you.’
The older officer turns away from Ollie, and the two men prepare to disembark. As they’re climbing down the ladder, Ollie calls out, ‘Maybe you’ve got the wrong Penhelion – did you think about that?’
The older officer eyes him as he drops onto his own deck.
Pursing his lips, he shakes his head without reply.
After a few minutes, their boat speeds off; a cloud of spray washes over me from their wake.
I spot another vessel on the horizon, and the police boat heads in that direction.
It seems a fairly inefficient way to hunt for traffickers, but what do I know?
Only that the day seems spoiled.
Ollie confers with his skipper out of earshot. When he comes back over to me, he’s once again all smiles and charm. I try to relax and recapture my elated mood. When he draws me close and kisses me on the lips, I almost succeed.
‘I’m so sorry about all that, Juno,’ he says.
‘It’s a bad business and I know they’re just doing their jobs, but really,’ he makes a face, ‘their methods are idiotic. Do they really think that I’m taking posh bankers out on a booze cruise while hiding contraband in the hold? How stupid would that be?’
I laugh. ‘Well, I guess there’s such a thing as hiding in plain sight. And don’t forget, when I first met you, you were dressed as a pirate.’
‘True enough,’ he says. He kisses me again. ‘Though the only person I’ve kidnapped today is you.’
‘I guess I’m a willing victim,’ I say.
‘Good to know.’
I half-hope, half-fear that he’ll ramp up the passion and suggest that we ‘go below’ to continue where we left off. When he doesn’t, I’m half-glad, half-disappointed.
‘We should probably head home,’ he says. I note that the skipper is already pulling up the anchor. ‘It’s getting late and we have to mind the tides.’
‘Of course,’ I say. I check my watch, surprised to see that it’s almost five o’clock. Reality is beckoning. The kids will be back from Truro and wanting their tea. Real life is motherhood and keeping house; it’s not being whisked away on a fancy ship by a handsome man…
I’d do well to remember that.