Chapter 11
Hannah woke the next morning to the arrival at their first port. The beautiful sunshine and the glorious green landscape of the Azores. It had been odd, trying to pack for this trip when the weather had been so grey and damp at home.
The lightweight shirts and linen shorts, bikinis and strappy sandals she’d been packing for the tropics had felt absurd.
Her heart hadn’t really been in it, her mind on Ian, the abandoned wedding and the fallout from the whole bloody awful situation.
She’d chucked stuff into her suitcase, not caring what she’d look like.
Hadn’t even thought about the carefully tissue-paper-wrapped, ultra-sexy underwear she’d secretly purchased and put in the bottom of the case months ago, pulling it out with a sort of horrified fascination when she’d unpacked into her cabin on the ship.
Ironic really as she’d also packed her standard, sensible underwear.
She’d shoved the lacy, minimalist stuff into one of the many cabin drawers, a wave of nausea passing over her as she wondered if her usual knickers had been the reason Ian had looked elsewhere.
Perhaps things would have been different if she’d regularly worn the thongs and tiny lacy bras she’d decided to bring on the honeymoon.
They weren’t really her style – and maybe that was the problem.
Perhaps whoever he’d slept with instead of her was more exciting, more risqué, more experimental…
All that underwear still had their labels on.
She could always take them back when she got home.
But she’d need everything else she’d bought, because she’d had little else suitable for the tropics in her wardrobe, so had shoved it all in.
She’d thought no further than that she would probably want to spend most of her time locked away in her cabin in pyjamas.
But her mood had shifted since they’d left Southampton – mostly thanks to Ruth and Millie.
It was also difficult to remain bogged down by everything back home when she was taking the holiday of a lifetime, on a fantastic ship, which had now arrived in an environment Hannah had only previously dreamed of.
And they weren’t even halfway to the Caribbean.
This was a day stopover – a chance for the passengers to get off the ship and spend some time on land, and for the crew to refuel and restock – according to Captain King, or Louis, as he’d insisted she should call him the previous evening in the bar.
After Ruth had made her rather obvious exit, Hannah and Louis had made awkward small talk for a while.
Eventually she had relaxed, and he asked her to call him Louis, telling her he found the formality of being called ‘Captain’ too much to deal with.
They had talked about how she would spend her time in port the following day, then – just when Hannah had been settling into the conversation, and just as she realised this was the longest she had spoken to a man who rivalled Ian in attractiveness for years – there was a crackling from a walkie-talkie, which the captain…
no, Louis… pulled from the back of his waistband.
The brief conversation with whoever was at the other end proved the catalyst for him to make his excuses and head for the bridge.
‘Being captain means I’m never truly off duty,’ he said with a smile that did something strange to Hannah’s belly. ‘Apologies – they need me. Have a great day tomorrow and I’ll see you soon.’
Hannah had taken those words to bed with her.
Which she’d decided was, now the next day had dawned bright and fragrant and exciting, a ridiculous thing to have done.
To be indulging herself with thoughts about another man when she’d failed so spectacularly to hold on to the one she’d known for years – well, it was ludicrous.
A classic, and pointless, case of rebound.
After a firm briefing from the shore team about what time to be back aboard the Ballygowan and having overheard some of the more seasoned cruise passengers talking about the penalties involved if they were late leaving port, Hannah made a plan.
A brief wander around the port, find somewhere to have a coffee, and then back to the ship with loads of time to spare.
She might even do some more of her painting.
She set off down the gangway – the name made it sound very pirate-like, even though in reality it was an elegant sloping walkway.
It would have been easy to have agreed to go with Ruth, to have hung on her shirt tails like another of her children and spent time in port doing whatever they were doing.
It would have been nice to spend more time in their company, even if Nathan did keep giving her odd, sideways looks like he’d seen her on CCTV doing something she shouldn’t and was trying to decide whether he should go to the authorities.
And easy and nice was all very well, but Hannah wanted to use this first docking as a test. A litmus paper to see how well she was coping with her situation.
Hannah shook her head at herself; she needed to stop thinking about her break-up as though it was some kind of incurable disease.
Yes, the man she’d been deeply in love with had let her down in the worst possible way.
Yes, she’d been ignoring his calls and messages ever since she boarded the Ballygowan.
Yes, she had a lot to work through and sort out.
When she’d boarded the ship, Hannah had half expected she really would wither away in her own misery, that they would find the husk of her body when they docked back in Southampton. Hand her remains and belongings back to her family and give the cabin a thorough airing before it was used again.
Fanciful, maybe. And highly unlikely, because housekeeping would sound the alarm way before that.
But the weird thing was that Hannah was coping without Ian far better than she had expected to.
Maybe she was simply kicking the can down the road, maybe the moment she got home she would sink back into the mire of attempting to sort her life out.
For now, though, she was beginning to enjoy herself, and even though that made her feel strangely guilty, she was going to run with it.
At least as far as a café or similar in the port – somewhere with an authentic feel of the Azores.
Although, with her limited experience of travel, Hannah had to conclude she had no real idea what that should be like.
Whatever it was, she hoped it would be warm, sunny and friendly – because that was just what she needed.
Louis wasn’t having a good morning. He’d jumped down Martin’s throat when he’d offered to bring the bridge crew coffee and had been way too blunt with Tim when he’d suggested he could be the one to dock the Ballygowan at Praia da Vitória.
Neither of them had done anything wrong, but Martin scuttled away like a crab that had realised it had strayed into an all-you-can-eat seafood banquet and Tim retreated to his station looking like thunder.
Louis took a deep breath.
‘Can we focus on docking this ship without further distraction?’ he said, frowning at his own terse words.
The truth was this was his first ‘public’ docking as Ballygowan’s captain – and while Tim hadn’t done anything wrong in asking, his timing had been off.
Traditionally, first officers and various other bridge crew did take turns to dock the ship, under the watchful eye of the captain – it was a great way to give everyone a boost while also increasing their skill set.
In every bridge officer lurked a potential captain in the making.
But Louis wanted to do this one, make sure it all went perfectly. The idea of stuffing something up on his very first arrival at a port while the ship was laden with paying guests wasn’t something he wanted to entertain.
Portus kept watch from his stool by the window as the ship slid gently and accurately into its designated mooring, jumping down with a flick of his tail as Louis gave the final command and the turbines eventually fell quiet.
The cat was quicker to relax than he was, Louis realised, as he tried to peel his shoulder blades away from his spine.
His mouth was dry, a frown embedded on his forehead as he turned to thank the bridge crew.
‘Tim, can I have a word?’ he said, aware he needed to do something, needed to put right what actually amounted to his own nerves, badly expressed.
He explained to Tim that, although he was new to the ship and relatively new to his post, Louis would ensure he got his chance to dock the ship during the course of the cruise. The whole situation was something else outside Louis’ frame of reference. Telling off a peer for being too keen was weird.
However, alongside all of that was a genuine niggling annoyance.
The previous evening, Louis had enjoyed chatting with Hannah, had been about to offer to get her another drink when his walkie-talkie had crackled into life and he’d had to leave her far more abruptly than he’d wanted.
And even more annoyingly, it had been for nothing more than a flickering light on the control board that could have been checked by any one of the maintenance crew.
Although, as this was his first trip as captain, he supposed the night bridge team had done exactly the thing he’d asked of them – which was to call if they had even the tiniest of concerns.
There was no way they could have known he had been spending time with a woman who interested him in a way he’d thought impossible after his disastrous recent dating history.
Confusion clouded Louis’ thoughts as he radioed Martin, apologising to him and asking if he could bring coffee after all.
The previous evening had been fun, had ended way too abruptly for Louis’ liking – there was so much more he wanted to know about Hannah.
But the only thing that should be Louis’ focus right now was this ship.
Doing the best job possible on this cruise to impress the big bosses at Blue Line Cruising.
Ensuring the likelihood of him securing another captainship, maybe in a permanent role on one of their ships.
Then there was his father – who he’d basically ignored since he’d met him for the tour with added blue paint. For his mum’s sake they needed to make peace. Somehow.
And yet however hard he tried to focus on the job, or his father, his conversation with Hannah the evening before kept bubbling to the surface.
It wasn’t even what they’d been talking about – neither of them had been particularly witty or amusing, neither of them had done anything to suggest what was happening was anything other than a polite conversation between two adults who just happened to meet at a bar. And yet…
Louis sipped at the coffee Martin brought, sucking in a breath as the heat burnt his lip. The sudden pain had him recalibrating.
‘Martin – would you send a bridge visit invitation to the guests in cabin 33-42? And could you personalise it, make it from Portus?’
Martin quirked a smile. ‘We have a cat lover aboard?’
Louis nodded. ‘A young girl – Millie. Can you make it for her, her brother and mum, please. Check for their details?’
‘Of course, sir.’
Louis shook his head. ‘I don’t think I deserve that title this morning. Sorry I was a bit abrupt earlier.’
‘You’ve got a lot on your plate. We’re all allowed an off moment.’ Martin grinned. ‘You must have been on the bridge when Captain Crowther had one of his tantrums?’
Louis tilted his head. He had been on the bridge for plenty of incidents when senior officers lost their cool. He’d always put it down to their stress levels without applying the same logic to himself.
‘None of us are Superman,’ Martin added. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it.’
Louis managed a thin smile. Martin wasn’t to know that was an expression which bit deep. Was, if he thought about it, one of the earliest memories he had for the beginnings of his difficulties with his father.
It had happened after a selection race where, despite his best efforts, Louis had finished up second. The look on his father’s face had prompted Louis to explode with frustration, telling his father he wasn’t fucking Superman, and had done his best.
‘Never enough, though, is it?’ his father had said as he turned and walked away.
As usual, back then, his mum was there to wrap him up in one of her fierce hugs, her head pressed firmly against his ribcage, the smell of her favourite hair product, a mix of rosemary and mint assailing his nostrils as he hugged her back, even though his arms were screaming with exhausted lactic acid and his legs felt like jelly.
And even though his mum always said the right things and had backed Louis all the way, telling him the only thing that truly mattered was being happy, and she didn’t care if he made the Olympic squad or worked down the local chippy, Louis hadn’t ever felt truly fulfilled.
Had craved his father’s approval, even when they were screaming at one another.
Had spent his entire life trying to achieve things, to be the best… but to what end?
Blowing out his cheeks, Louis waved a finger at Martin.
‘Can you add another name to that invitation list?’
‘Sure.’
‘The lady in 70-69 – Hannah.’
Martin’s eyebrows did a good impersonation of gulls taking off from open sea before he managed to control them. ‘A second invitation?’
The grin seeping across Martin’s face had embarrassed heat creeping up Louis’ throat.
‘She liked the cat,’ Louis said.
Martin’s eyebrows soared again.
‘Just write the invitations, please, Martin.’
Martin’s grin widened as he turned to leave. ‘Of course, Captain. Whatever you say.’