Chapter 12
Ruth wandered along the portside avenue, tipping her face to bask in the sunshine as Millie chatted freely alongside her.
Sometimes Ruth could believe everything was fine in her world, and this was one of those moments.
It had been a good decision to empty her savings account and play fast and loose with her kids’ education by taking them out of school for a few weeks if the result was Millie returning to her former, carefree self, nattering nineteen to the dozen about whatever was on her mind.
Currently it was about the birds who lived in the Azores.
‘Did you know there are canaries here, also blackbirds? I looked it up. It’s like a mixture of home and not-home, all at the same time.
And they have a special bullfinch that only lives on these islands.
But I don’t think they have parrots. At least, I’m not sure about that.
I’d love to see a parrot in the wild. Like, properly wild, living where it’s supposed to, you know? ’
Ruth smiled and nodded. Maybe she could avoid the school fines if she explained how much Millie had already learnt just by setting foot outside her usual habitat.
Although she wasn’t sure the same would be true of Nathan.
Walking ahead of them, he kept his hands deep in the pockets of his cargo shorts, his pale spindly teenage legs propelling him forwards in a slumpy, grumpy walk as he focused on the ground.
Didn’t want to be seen walking with them, didn’t want to engage with anything around himself either.
She supposed she should be grateful he’d agreed to leave the ship at all.
‘We’ll see them in the Caribbean, I’m sure,’ Millie said.
‘See what, sweetheart?’
‘Parrots. Are you even listening to me?’
‘Of course I am. Are you enjoying yourself so far?’ Ruth realised she was desperate for Millie to give her a definite affirmation of happiness. Almost felt the prick of tears as she waited for her reply.
‘You mean apart from having to share the cabin with Nathan?’
‘I mean all of it, Mils. Coming away on this holiday. Being with me and Nathan and trying to—’ Ruth caught the rest of the words in the back of her throat, trapping them before they spilled out, and she demanded far too much of her baby girl.
Stopped before she insisted on knowing Millie was happy and had forgotten about the terrible time they’d all endured; that she wasn’t in the least bit upset her father couldn’t be bothered with her – past sticking some money in an envelope for her birthday and Christmas.
Stopped before she insisted that Millie tell her she was OK, because Ruth couldn’t cope with it if she wasn’t, she was already so full up with worry about Nathan.
Millie took her time answering, time which hung like a spectre as Ruth bit back tears. In the end, Millie didn’t say anything – which was unusual for a daughter who liked to talk almost as much as she did – instead, she slipped her hand into her mother’s and squeezed.
‘I love you, Mum.’
Ruth’s throat tightened as she squeezed back and tried fruitlessly to reply, before she sucked in a big lungful of air and changed the subject.
Hannah was finishing a coffee at a little café facing the glittering water of the port when a message made her mobile vibrate.
She only noticed it because she’d slipped it into her shorts rather than shoving it into her bag.
Was annoyed at herself as she pulled it from the pocket to scrutinise the details.
So much for being good at ignoring the temptation to look.
But it could be anyone, not just Ian. And he’d already messaged and sent a voicemail today, so she didn’t believe it would be him.
Not again. He must surely be getting the hint by now, Hannah thought.
She hadn’t replied to any of his communications except to send him a text on the second day telling him she was fine, was having a great time on the cruise she’d paid for, and she wasn’t missing his lousy cheating arse at all.
Thoughts of Ian slipped from her mind as she began to grin.
The voice message was from Millie – they’d swapped numbers when they’d bonded over cerulean blue in the art studio – and she was asking when Hannah intended to do some more work to her painting.
And could she join her? Because she’d spent all day with Nathan and she couldn’t take any more of his ‘melty’ behaviour, plus her mum wanted a bit of time on her own, Millie could tell even though she hadn’t said anything, and she thought her mum might like to have a swim in the ship’s pool, or enjoy a Christmas-themed cocktail in the bar or something.
That they were heading back to the ship shortly anyway because her mum was worried Nathan might get left behind otherwise, even though, apparently, he was being rather militant about the idea.
As expected, Millie’s message rambled on with a charming lack of filter.
Hannah checked her watch, then typed a quick reply, giving Millie a time to meet that allowed herself enough leeway to wander back to the ship and stop by her cabin before heading to the art gallery.
Pushing her mobile away, Hannah leant back in her chair, taking a few further seconds to admire the view. From her table, dressed with a delicate lace cloth and a small bunch of flowers in a glass vase holding down the menu card, she could watch the world wandering past.
This part of the port was pedestrianised, and she assumed many of the people she was watching had probably come off the Ballygowan.
But beyond the wandering tourists there were people at work, the melee of a working port meaning there was activity far beyond the casual.
A tangle of voices and actions, the choreography of a dance impossible to learn, but unfolding right in front of her.
It was the same in the deli back home, she supposed.
Most of the customers were like the wandering tourists, with time and money on their hands.
Deciding what kind of coffee or cake to have as they sat and chatted, or choosing between the award-winning selection of salamis her father was so proud of.
But the mechanics of the shop meant nobody working there had time to stand still or relax.
The trick was to make it look easy, like there was all the time in the world for the dithery customer who couldn’t decide which cheese to buy.
And when Hannah had told her parents she was still taking the cruise even though she was no longer getting married…
? She could feel the barely contained anger radiating from her father, the disappointment from her mother even less hidden.
They had been looking forward to the wedding, the registry office booked, her mother’s new dress had been hanging in her wardrobe for months.
They loved Ian – he’d been a fixture in all their lives for so long and somehow, even after his betrayal, Hannah hadn’t the heart to tell her parents exactly why she’d called the wedding off.
Some kind of twisted loyalty to all of them meant she hadn’t been able to paint him in such poor light.
Instead, she had made up something which, if she thought about it, made it sound more as though she was the one at fault. That it had been her indecision, or panic, it was her failing that had meant the dress hanging in her mother’s wardrobe wouldn’t be required after all.
It occurred to Hannah, as she stood from the table at the little café, that it might not only have been Ian she was running away from.
Back on the ship, Hannah intended to grab a quick shower before she headed for the gallery. An envelope greeted her arrival. Another invitation to the bridge.
Another invitation to the bridge…
This time, rather than her bizarre imaginings about a pirate captain, or walking the plank, or worrying about making it out of the cabin without dying of embarrassment or loneliness, Hannah grinned. Her grin widened when she realised it had been signed off by the ship’s cat, Portus.
When Hannah reached the art gallery, Millie was already there. It was clear Millie had also received an invitation. Her eyes glittered, her expression blossoming into a huge smile when she saw Hannah.
‘We’ve been invited to visit—’
‘The bridge?’
‘The bridge!’
They spoke at the same time, Millie’s excitement barely contained.
‘How did you know?’ Millie added, a look of suspicion laced with conspiratorial glee flashing across her features.
Hannah pulled her card out of her bag. ‘I got one as well.’
‘Awesome! When shall we go?’ Millie’s fists balled with excitement. ‘I cannot wait to meet Portus.’
‘He’s very cool,’ Hannah said.
‘Yeah. A bit like the captain,’ Millie said, tilting her head as she watched Hannah for a reaction.
‘Stop it, Mils. Not that I disagree, but…’ Ruth left the rest of the sentence hanging as she appeared as if by some kind of sorcery and then changed the subject. ‘The art in here is unusual, isn’t it?’
Millie rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, it’s abstract. That means it resembles things or thoughts or feelings, not that it’s a direct representation of something.’
‘I’m not saying I don’t like it. I’m just saying—’
‘When are we going to go to the bridge?’ Millie said, her eager gaze flicking between Hannah and her mother as she pleaded. ‘Sooooooon, I hope.’
Ruth had trouble keeping Millie under control until the time arrived the following day to visit the bridge.
They’d had to wait for the Ballygowan to leave port and for the next bit of the journey to get underway before the crew could receive them.
Understandable, as far as Ruth was concerned – the last thing she wanted was for the people in the bridge to be distracted and end up running the ship aground or crashing into something horribly solid as they left the Azores.
Nathan was feigning complete indifference. But even though he was doing his best to look as though he was no keener on the opportunity than he would be to lose a finger in an industrial accident, Ruth saw him grin when they reached the bridge and he thought she wasn’t looking. She’d take that.
Hannah was struggling to control her expression, too. Ruth was of the opinion there was only one reason for the bubbliness her new friend was failing to squash – it was so very different from the first day they’d met in the Crow’s Nest, when she’d looked ready to throw herself overboard.
Or rather the reason, in Ruth’s opinion, was down to one person.
And then there he was: Captain Louis King, looking every inch the pin-up for Blue Line Cruising as he welcomed them.
Very tall and lean with one of those sporty physiques that would lend itself to rowing or tennis, deliciously dark and with an awesome set of pearly white gnashers revealed by his broad smile – which was mostly for Hannah, if Ruth was any judge.
Ruth found herself smiling, too. If she was ten years younger…
Well, OK, maybe make that twenty-five… The point still held.
The bloke was seriously attractive. And he was single – God only knew why or how, but facts were facts.
Anyway, Ruth was allowed to look, wasn’t she? Looking but not touching was fine, wasn’t that the rule? Especially as these days she was more interested in worrying about when full-bore menopause was going to strike, rather than trying to snag a gorgeous young buck.
God, she sounded like her mother.
Regardless of any of that, Ruth concluded that if Hannah didn’t make the most of the opportunity unfurling in front of her like a beautiful flower, then there was something seriously wrong with this generation.
Back in her day nobody would have wasted a chance like that.
The nineties, she remembered, were wild…
Ruth paused her thoughts, frowning as the random feeling swept over her again.
The captain was introducing Millie to the ship’s cat, Portus.
Allowing Mils to stroke the cat’s fur as it perched on a high stool in front of the huge bridge windows, while the captain stared almost exclusively at Hannah.
There was something about the way he stared at her; it was almost familiar.
Ruth frowned and shook her head, refusing to allow her thoughts to spiral away into the past. Refused to allow herself to think about the man who had meant everything to her…
Teddy. Refused to allow herself to remember how the wildness of those days and how she’d felt about Teddy had not gone hand in hand, and that the reality of what happened had been completely devastating.
How her loss had shaped everything that had come afterwards.
It was as though he had died, or she had.
In fact, if she had died, that probably would have been far easier than the subsequent ten years of regret, and her eventual marriage to Trev, rushed into in desperation and dreadfully disappointing.
Probably for them both as it turned out.
‘Mum, Captain King wants to know if I want to help feed Portus for the rest of the cruise. Can I? Say yes… please?!’
Millie was suddenly six again, pleading in the way she had when she wanted Lego for her birthday, a particular house belonging to a tiny Lego Friends figure called Olivia – and with every figure on the box striking a very helpful pose.
Even the obligatory male figure was being useful, holding aloft barbecue tongs.
Something Trev had never bothered with, not even when Nathan wanted friends round for a barbecue and sleepover for his twelfth birthday and had pleaded with Trev to grill for them.
Ruth saw Captain King’s gaze settle on Hannah again, even though Hannah appeared oblivious. Maybe another little shove was required. Ruth pretended to cough, then rubbed at her nose.
‘I’m not sure, I think I’m a bit allergic. Probably better if I stay away.’ She fixed on Hannah. ‘Would you be able to bring her?’