Chapter 39
Louis busied himself as best he could with the mechanics of the layover in Bridgetown. Each department on board the Ballygowan worked as a well-oiled machine, so all he had to do was wander around the ship and the dock area, telling everyone what a good job they were doing.
It never failed to amaze him how busy the catering department was on a docking like today’s.
Heavily laden vehicles traversed the dock, offloading trolleys stacked high with boxed goods.
A ship like the Ballygowan got through an astounding amount of food, far more than they could ever store for a cruise of this length.
Plus, there was no substitute for using the freshest ingredients, alongside locally produced goods.
A smaller van arrived, tentatively manoeuvring its way between the larger vehicles until it came to rest close to where he stood, the driver springing from his seat and making a beeline for Louis.
‘I’ve brought the paintings,’ he announced, putting Louis on the back foot.
‘Paintings? What paintings?’
To be bringing art on board partway through a cruise, let alone partway through a season, was unusual.
‘I don’t know, man. I’m just the delivery guy, you know?’
Louis smiled, reaching for his radio. Unable to raise April – who often left her radio wherever the mood took her – Louis radioed Martin and asked him to send April dockside.
‘Our gallery manager is on her way,’ Louis said.
‘Cool.’
With the side door of the van pulled wide, brown-paper-wrapped artwork in bulky frames were tugged into the bright Barbados sunshine. With little in the way of concern, the delivery guy began to stack them, haphazardly, on the dock.
‘Perhaps it would be better to wait…?’ Louis attempted to slow the process, fearing for the canvases as he checked for April’s arrival.
‘Is all good. They’re my sister’s work – she uses driftwood to frame them. Very tough.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘You must be Marcus.’ April swept into the conversation, hand extended in greeting. ‘I’m April. So lovely to meet you in person.’
‘You too, April.’
‘Captain, this is a bit of a departure from Blue Line’s normal policy, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to show some of Hope’s work. I meant to mention it. I hope you’re not cross with me?’
Louis grinned. ‘How could I be cross with you, April? Let me help to bring the pictures aboard.’
‘Is Hope not with you?’ April asked.
‘Her wheelchair didn’t fit with all the paintings. I said I’d go back and fetch her.’
Louis glanced at the pile of wrapped paintings. The haste to get them out of the van made sense now.
‘Perfect. Then she can help me decide where everything should go,’ April said.
A while later, and with a painting under each arm, Louis joined the small group in the gallery.
‘Those are the last two,’ he said.
‘Thank you, Captain,’ Hope said, wheeling herself towards him. ‘You could have left it to Marcus. He could do with the exercise.’
‘Hey now – who made two round trips to bring all your stuff, and you, here in the first place?’ Marcus sounded amused, rather than annoyed. Louis could imagine Hope was a force of nature, found himself fascinated to see her work.
‘Yeah, well. I can’t drive myself, can I?’
‘I know who we should get in on this,’ April said, smiling at Louis before she reached for the tape fixing some brown paper in place. ‘She’d love to see your work, Hope, I’m sure.’
Louis took and held a breath. He had a fair idea who April was going to suggest.
‘Hannah is one of the keenest artists I’ve ever had on a cruise,’ April said, straightening from the piece she was unwrapping and waving at a beautiful painting on an easel. ‘That’s hers over there. She says it’s still not finished… but then, art never is, is it?’
Hope laughed, shaking her head in agreement. ‘Never done. You got that right. But sometimes you got to let them go, otherwise we’d all be drowning in canvases.’
‘Yeah, and there’s not enough space in the shack for any more of your nonsense,’ Marcus added.
‘I think Hannah’s ashore, April,’ Louis said.
‘You have her number though?’ April looked at him, assessing his expression.
‘Yes, but…’
‘It would be good to give her the option, at least.’ April wasn’t backing down, so Louis pulled his phone from his pocket.
He needed to talk to her anyway, after the previous evening.
See if he was still in with a shot, or if life was reverting to the normal path on which he would be dumped for someone more…
more what? He shook his head as he dialled. Take your pick…
Louis swallowed as he wondered if this was going to be the second time in his life that he would find himself plunging headlong towards losing the woman he wanted to love.
When Hannah picked up, the conversation was stilted. Already returning to the ship, she said she would head straight for the gallery. April looked pleased, unwrapping a stunning piece of artwork. Louis stayed to help. And to see Hannah.
Back on board, Hannah dumped her bags in her cabin and made for the gallery. She was intrigued to see the art April thought wonderful enough to add to the collection, and even though it made her mouth go dry, she needed to talk to Louis, too.
‘Ah, here’s Hannah,’ April said. She was standing opposite a tall man, dreadlocks to his waist, with a proprietorial hand on the back of a wheelchair in which sat a young woman with closely braided hair and a smile bright enough to light any room.
Once introductions were made the discussion turned back to the art.
April held up a painting with Louis’ help as she chatted through display options.
Hannah found it difficult to concentrate, not because she didn’t like the paintings – she did.
They were incredible studies of native birds and animals, caught in motion.
Birds took flight, lizards scuttled, sea turtles curved through azure ocean, green monkeys sprang through trees.
The colours and techniques used to accentuate the movement made the paintings glisten.
She wondered how much of the art’s movement was inspired by Hope’s lack of mobility.
But Hannah’s concentration continued to fly towards Louis.
The idea was to have the paintings themselves in motion, too, as far as was practicable, to have them crossing the space as though they were moving.
From the ceiling hung ready-positioned steel wires of varying lengths onto which Louis and Marcus attached the paintings back to back so the art could be seen from any angle.
The effect was stunning and there was no sign of anyone faltering until Hope was completely happy with the finished display.
Once she and her brother had left, April wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
‘I am literally exhausted,’ she said. ‘Would you mind if I took five minutes?’
Louis looked genuinely tired, too, unsurprising as the driftwood frames he’d been holding were substantial. ‘Of course not. They look awesome, April – I hope they do well for Hope.’
‘Me too,’ April said, drawing closer. ‘If enough of them sell at cruise prices, she’ll be able to get a specially adapted van so she can get about without relying on other people all the time. I’d like to achieve that for her, if we can.’
April clutched at his arm, then Hannah’s as she thanked them again and swept from the space.
‘So,’ Louis said, turning to Hannah. ‘How did your day go?’
Hannah frowned. ‘Louis, we need to talk.’
Louis knew what those words were code for.
This wasn’t his first rodeo. He didn’t want to have it happen in public though, not after the Vivaldi disaster of the previous evening.
So, they slipped off the ship, walking on the dock by the lights shining from the Ballygowan.
Bridgetown wasn’t the most beautiful Caribbean port they would visit, but perhaps the Tarmac and storage containers were appropriate, would match the conversation he feared was incoming.
‘I’m sorry I left early last night,’ Hannah said, her intense frown deepening, but with a level of distance he hadn’t seen since the very early days of the cruise. ‘It wasn’t the bravest thing I could have done, but I needed time to think.’
‘And have you?’ he asked.
Hannah nodded, her bobbed hair momentarily hiding her eyes. He longed to push it aside; to run his fingers round to cup her face so he could kiss her, but her snatchy movement as she ran a hand through her hair left little doubt about her frame of mind.
‘I’m not being fair on you. Or Ian. Or on myself,’ she said abruptly. ‘I headed into this thing with you on false pretences. It’s only right that I try to explain. If you’ll let me?’
‘It’s not as though I didn’t know your situation was – and remains – complicated, Hannah. I suppose I was hoping that what we were feeling for one another might be strong enough to work through it all, you know?’
‘I truly thought it was over, with Ian. I did. I’m not that kind of a person, you know, to string two men along at the same time. Please don’t think that of me.’
‘I don’t.’
‘And I’m sorry I got so cross in the Vivaldi. I felt cornered. I thought you were pressuring me, and I just erupted.’
‘You left before I had the chance to say I minded you going because I could see how upset you were. Wanted to have the chance to talk it through with you – although perhaps the Vivaldi wasn’t the best place to do that.’
Hannah looked at him, then, properly gazed at him, sadness pouring itself across her features.
‘I think you’re amazing, Louis. I really do. But…’
And there it was. One little word – the slayer of dreams.
‘But I’m not amazing enough.’ He frowned, struggling to suppress his frustration, the wave of disappointment threatening to engulf him.
‘It’s not that, Louis. It’s just there’s so much else at stake here, my whole life back home… The last ten years… None of my time on the Ballygowan is real, is it? It’s not my real life…’ She twisted away, an exasperated breath escaping her lips. ‘It’s all too difficult… And you—’
‘I get it, Hannah. You don’t need to spell it out. I’ve heard it all before. It’s fine. Listen, I should be getting back. Enjoy the rest of the cruise, won’t you. And I hope it all works out for you and him.’
Louis turned on his heel, leaving her standing on the dock, and headed back to the Ballygowan before she could see the tears threatening his eyes.
Back on board he headed for the bridge. Where else would he go? It seemed his career was the only aspect of his life he could rely on. But he knew something was wrong the moment he set foot in the space. Bridge crew scuttled around, and Maria made a beeline for him the moment he appeared.
‘No need to panic, but we’ve had reports of some freak weather heading this way,’ she said.
Louis frowned. The whole reason for cruising in the Caribbean in December was the negligible possibility of ‘disorganised’ weather events. Hurricane season ended with the conclusion of November. Were even the weather gods against him?
‘How long before it gets here?’ he said.