Chapter Five
Nelly
Corfu, July, 1983
After Nelly had walked out of Corfu airport that day, her best friend’s voice ringing in her ears, it was as if her life split into two and she’d landed on the fun side. It spooled alongside her, that parallel life where she’d boarded the plane with Lorraine and returned to her dreary job and dingy Camberwell flat with the creepy neighbour, and she would feel like laughing at her sheer good fortune whenever she imagined that mirror existence. Because here she was, still in beautiful, blue-sky Corfu, and with a bit of luck she’d never have to type up another letter for her old boss, Mr Standwick, who smelled of cheese and onion crisps, and never cracked a smile.
‘What do you mean, you’re not coming back?’ her mum had spluttered when Nelly broke the news that first evening. ‘What are you talking about? Have you gone mad? Derek, come here, Nelly’s saying all sorts on the phone. And she’s still in flaming Greece!’
‘I’ve got a job and somewhere to stay, don’t worry, I’m fine,’ Nelly had said, but it was to deaf ears because her mum was still squawking to her dad, who, moments later, grabbed the receiver from his wife.
‘Are you in trouble, is that what’s going on here?’ he’d asked. Straight to the point, as ever.
‘No, Dad, it’s nothing like that. Ijust fancied a change. An adventure! And Ilove it here. So—’
‘People like us don’t have adventures ,’ he’d told her scathingly. ‘If Ifind out some dodgy fella’s got you in the family way, I’ll—’
Thankfully Nelly never had to hear the rest of the sentence, because her money ran out and the line went dead. Which was maybe just as well. If her parents knew that her new job was scrubbing toilets and making beds at the Aphrodite Hotel in the Old Town, they’d have been more certain than ever that she’d lost her mind. But it was somewhere to stay at least while she figured out her next move, and she was usually finished by two in the afternoon, after which time she was free to do whatever she pleased. One of the cooks, Dino, let her borrow his bike and she loved cycling around the island, stopping at whichever pretty cove caught her eye and plunging into the sea to cool down.
‘People like us don’t have adventures ,’ her dad had said, but he was wrong, because here she was, living proof that you didn’t always have to do what others expected of you. And even if, so far, her adventure involved her in rubber gloves, with a mop and bucket, heaving endless laundry into the machine, hoovering and ironing, it was all worth it.
A few days later, down at the marina, she was wandering aimlessly along the boardwalk, before she slowed to a stop in front of a gleaming white yacht. Imagine the freedom that must come from owning such a thing, she thought enviously; the joy of being able to travel wherever the mood took you. Then came the sound of footsteps approaching and she turned to see a glamorous couple, ten or so years older than her, walking towards her.
‘ Posso aiutarla ?’ the woman asked. She was wearing a chic white halterneck minidress and cat-eye sunglasses, her dark hair swept up in a perfect beehive. ‘Can we help you?’ she added, seeing Nelly’s blank look.
‘Oh. Sorry. Iwas just admiring your boat,’ Nelly said, blushing. ‘And thinking how nice it must be to sail away, wherever you want to.’
A sigh of longing escaped with her words, and the woman smiled in understanding. ‘Ahh, yes,’ she said. ‘It is the best. We are from Italy but we have sailed. . .’ She started to count on her fingers, then laughed, her hands flying up in the air. ‘Many, many countries now,’ she said.
‘And we still want to see many, many more,’ the man said. He was wearing sand-coloured long shorts and a navy polo shirt, and carried a shopping bag of groceries, a bottle of wine poking out of the top. He manoeuvred a gangplank into place and stepped onto it. ‘Come– you want to look around?’
Nelly had heard about swingers, and her dad’s dark words about ‘dodgy fellas’ echoed briefly in the back of her mind, but she had a good feeling about the Italian couple. Besides, how was an adventure meant to start if you said no to every opportunity that came your way? ‘Yes, please,’ she replied.
As a little girl, Nelly had had a beloved dolls’ house and had spent many hours immersed in its miniature world. Seeing the yacht’s pleasingly compact galley kitchen with its tiny stove and sink, the salon with its secret storage areas and table that folded out, gave her the same joy. ‘Oh, Ilove it,’ she kept saying. ‘It must be such fun, living like this!’
The woman, Giovanna, nudged her, an encouraging glint in her eye. ‘You don’t need to own a boat to live this life, mia cara ,’ she said. ‘Plenty of boat owners need staff here and there, you know. You can earn your passage if that is what your heart desires.’
Hope soared immediately. ‘Tell me more!’ Nelly replied eagerly. ‘Are you saying that the two of you need. . . ?’
No, unfortunately, Giovanna was not. ‘But we will listen out for you, and if we hear of anyone looking for deck-hands we will give them your name,’ she promised. ‘Right, Paolo? And we’ll tell them. . . where can they find you?’
‘I’m working at the Aphrodite, do you know it? Ten minutes’ walk from here, on the main street,’ Nelly said, excited at the idea of working a passage and where that might take her. ‘Thank you so much!’
A short while later, having said goodbye, she headed back along the marina, asking everyone she saw if they knew anyone who could give her some work. The answers were all a variation of the word ‘no’, but her enthusiasm could not be dimmed. Being on board Paolo and Giovanna’s yacht had lit something inside her, a spark that burned brightly the entire way back to the Aphrodite.
Whatever her dad might think, there was an adventure out there with her name on it, she was certain. All she had to do now was find it.