Chapter 17
The following morning, I woke up after a decent night’s sleep, probably helped by the motion of the ship and the surprisingly comfortable bed. It was seven fifteen.
I put on my dressing gown and made myself a cup of tea to drink in bed as I always did. Then I pulled back the curtains to see if there was anything interesting out there.
Immediately I yelped in shock and sprang back, almost falling over the wastepaper basket.
On the other side of the glass was a crew member in a blue boiler suit, with a big yellow squeegee who was washing the windows.
Tactfully, he averted his gaze and pretended he hadn’t seen me and my new Donald Duck nightie.
I closed the curtains again. Perhaps I would wait until he had gone.
I didn’t think the world was ready to see me in all my morning glory just yet.
I peered around the curtains a few times like a nervous maiden aunt until I was sure he had gone and then opened them.
The sky above was patchy with cloud and spoke of recent rain but promised a clear day ahead.
Outside, my balcony was wet and glistening as the sun rose over Kvarner Bay, which was as calm as a boating lake.
This in itself was very reassuring, and I was sure it was going to be a great day.
I put on my slippers and went out onto the balcony.
Surprisingly close was the grey-green outline of land, folding in impressive, rocky curves towards the sea.
I could see the occasional building and further along a cluster of white houses and winding roads.
There were boats out there too, a massive, blue-hulled container ship, little fishing smacks, another boat which was about the same size as ours but heading in the opposite direction. Ships that pass in the day.
Our boat was chugging along at a sedate pace, leaving hardly any wake behind us. It seemed we were not in any rush.
I decided not to risk another shower after the disappointment of yesterday and quickly got ready. After all, there was breakfast out there in the dining room, and I was hungry. Perhaps it was the sea air.
When I got there I saw I was one of the first to arrive.
Then I saw Jack Fisher who was sitting on his own, eating a croissant and drinking coffee.
I hesitated for a moment, dithering about returning to my cabin and messing about for another half an hour.
But the scent of the coffee and the sight of the well-stocked buffet table pulled me in.
‘Ah, good morning,’ he said, turning in his chair. ‘The coffee is very good.’
‘I could do with some,’ I said.
I chose a selection of breakfast pastries and a little pot of apricot jam which had always been one of my favourites and yet was one I seldom thought to buy.
Which was odd. Why not? And then I remembered the years when Fred had sneered at it, saying it didn’t taste of anything.
Newly decisive, I took a second little pot and went to pour coffee.
I would buy some when I got home, some of the expensive sort with the gingham lids, and I would also buy peanut butter and make curry that actually tasted of something, and if I wanted to eat toast in bed then I would.
Then of course was the decision about where to sit. It would seem odd if I didn’t join Jack, wouldn’t it. But then he might be one of those men who disliked company at breakfast. I hesitated.
‘Come and sit with me,’ he said cheerfully, pulling out a chair for me. ‘We can watch as the captain docks our ship. I always think that’s a clever thing to watch. All the business of getting lined up, not bumping into the quayside. Throwing the ropes out to people.’
‘I have enough trouble getting my car into my garage,’ I said, ‘but then it is full of junk.’
‘Your car or the garage?’
‘Both.’
He grinned and pulled apart a second croissant. ‘Mine too. I should hire a skip and have a good clear out, but somehow I never get around to it.’
‘I used to have a superstition that if I threw away my schoolbooks I would forget all the things in them I had learned,’ I said, ‘so for years I hung on to them, even my exercise books from school. But then after the divorce and I had to move, I realised I probably had no use for my Latin books or my O level test papers, so I threw them all out.’
‘And do you feel there is a great void in your knowledge as a result?’
‘I’ll never be able to read Civis Romanus again,’ I said, ‘but then I wasn’t very good at it the first time around.’
‘Those pesky Latin gerunds,’ he agreed, ‘and if I had to sit O level Maths again I would be very disappointed.’
‘Isn’t it wonderful not to be in school?’ I said, unfolding my napkin.
With something as messy as croissants I really should have tucked it into the top of my T-shirt, but because he was there I placed it in my lap.
‘I liked school,’ he said, ‘it’s the last time I can remember knowing exactly what was expected of me. Since then, life has got more and more complicated.’
In what way, I wanted to ask, but it was the beginning of a brand new day, we were having a light-hearted chat and I didn’t want to spoil the mood by plunging into the dreary depths of adulting and its pitfalls.
Outside, the buildings and houses were coming closer as we neared the dock, and I could even see people walking along a pleasant-looking pathway next to the sea.
A couple hand in hand, a family with two children eating ice cream even though it was only eight thirty in the morning.
But then, why shouldn’t they? They were on holiday, when the normal restrictions went out of the window.
Perhaps I should adopt that way of thinking. It might be fun.
A thin strand of white sand ran along the coast; I could see houses and churches more clearly now. A lot of little boats and smart yachts moored in a neat little harbour. And around them a tantalising selection of canopies and parasols which spoke of cafés and restaurants.
Evelyn, resplendent in a bright blue dress and sparkly sandals, her grey hair garlanded with a red silk scarf, appeared in the doorway, her face brightening as she saw us.
‘Good morning! I am desperate for some coffee. I had tea earlier on with Marjorie in her cabin and it was disappointing. Other countries don’t do tea bags like we do. I think next time I will put two in the cup. Now, am I being a gooseberry if I join you?’
‘Not at all,’ Jack said, standing up and pulling out a chair for her. ‘Shall I fetch some coffee for you?’
‘You’re a gent,’ Evelyn said with a smile.
She winked at me as he went off towards the buffet.
‘Looks like someone’s getting friendly,’ she said. ‘I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I said.
‘Pity,’ she said, with a rather mischievous look. ‘Now then, what shall I have? It’s so easy to be greedy when there is a buffet, isn’t it? One starts with something predictable and then carries on to something else which normally would not be on one’s radar at all.’
‘Try the croissants,’ I said, ‘they are still warm.’
Mila, looking surprisingly refreshed and perky after what had probably been a late night pouring drinks for Roy and Craig, appeared at the door to the galley, bringing with her a tray of cheese, ham and other cold meats, arranged artfully into various shapes and attractive patterns.
She had changed into the crew uniform of a navy polo shirt emblazoned with the Atalanta name, and some smart knee-length navy shorts. Her hair was golden and glossy, a smattering of freckles across her cute nose, and she looked about nineteen.
‘Ideal, thank you,’ Evelyn said, taking the metal serving tongs and helping herself.
Mario followed with large jugs of fruit juice.
‘Apple. Orange,’ he said, his mouth turned down to convey his regret. ‘The pineapple is gone.’
‘Hmm,’ Evelyn said, ‘perhaps it’s gone off with the chicken and the spareribs from last night.
I hope Roy won’t be too vexed. So, what are the plans for today?
Harriet said something about churches. She always was very keen on old stones.
She was my only godchild to actually ask to go to the Bodleian.
And of course, in those days places were not child friendly with interactive displays and buttons to push.
She would stand for hours peering in through the display cabinets. ’
‘I’m ashamed to say I have no plans at all,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I should have done some research.’
It was true, I had looked up a few things and even watched a couple of YouTube videos to see what the Atalanta was like.
And I had done some desultory searches on the Dalmatian Islands, but if I was honest our trip from London to Paris and then to Venice had taken up most of my time and attention.
It was, after all, the part that held the most allure for me, the one on which I had pinned my greatest expectation after waiting for so long to do it.
So comparatively, I was poorly prepared for this part of the journey.
I suppose I had vaguely imagined myself wandering around some picturesque streets, sitting at a waterside café and enjoying the sunshine. Perhaps eating ice cream, drinking an espresso with an accompanying glass of iced water.
When I had actually achieved my ambition and done the longed-for trip from London to Paris, I had to admit it had been interesting but not as thrilling as I had expected.
Was life just like that all the time? Maybe the things we looked forward to the most were unlikely to meet expectations, and true enjoyment could be found in more subtle, unexpected places. Perhaps it was my age?
I’d found getting here so draining, not that exciting after all if I was honest. Even Harriet and Anna, squabbling and bickering over silly things, had admitted it wasn’t what they had expected, that things had changed since they were last here, that they now saw this sort of adventure from a different perspective. With older eyes. And knees.
Maybe this was a metaphor for my life. The way I had always dealt with things, which in the past really hadn’t been at all sensible.
Where do you want to be in ten years? In twenty? my father had once said. And I had laughed, unable to think of myself at forty or fifty or retired. It had seemed impossible.
I could see now that all my life I’d relied on my parents, my teachers and my husband to steer me in what they thought was the right direction for me.
School and university which had filled my blinkered life for so long, the friendships of my younger years – those things had all come to a natural end and of course my life and the people in it had changed.
The security blanket of my youth had been folded away.
Then I had looked for a life partner, not a starter marriage that Marjorie had described, and I had married Fred thinking that he was a man I could trust, that we would be together for the rest of our adult lives, that I could rely on his support.
And yet it hadn’t worked out that way at all, and when things failed, I had no safety net.
Mentally I’d had to start again. And it hadn’t been easy.
Perhaps now at sixty-four, when everything was so different and unpredictable, I needed, for the first time, to think things through properly.
To focus on myself and not rely on or expect the support or opinions of other people.
Was it too late to stand on my own two feet for the first time? To actually decide what I wanted to do?
It couldn’t be too late, because now I had no option. Who was in charge of the electricity bill, the council tax, getting my car serviced? Gradually, grudgingly I had assumed responsibility for these things, but I began to realise that it wasn’t just those things that mattered.
Now the final step was to assume responsibility for myself. It didn’t mean I couldn’t accept help when I needed it, but I should make a life for myself where I was in charge.
And yet a lot of my friends who were in the same position as I was, either widowed or divorced or just ‘not wanted on voyage’, seemed to talk about the same thing – remarriage.
Finding a new partner, occasionally dating apps and promising encounters.
The perils of online lotharios. And yet the overwhelming wish to have someone to share their lives.
Did I want that too? Was the perfect man out there somewhere, the one I should have been with all along, waiting to be found?
And yet how do you find the person you should have been with all along but you couldn’t have because you weren’t the person that you are now? Did I even know myself? Wasn’t it about time I did?
‘I still like life to surprise me, I never do too much research,’ Evelyn said, bringing my focus back to the topic of the days ahead, ‘because there is always something which scuppers everything. The weather isn’t what one was expecting, or the dress shop I was hoping to visit has closed.
I like to have a rough idea of what’s happening but then to go where the wind takes me, to say yes to things when I feel like it and of course say no as well. ’
‘How do you know you are saying yes to the right things?’ I asked.
Evelyn paused from spreading a thick layer of strawberry jam onto her toast.
‘I don’t know. I just do what feels right at the time and accept the consequences. This is an awfully serious conversation to be having over breakfast, isn’t it? Be polite to everyone, don’t break any laws and do the best you can, Lizzie, that’s my advice.’
‘I look at little girls like Mila and feel every one of my years,’ I said, ‘and when I was that age I had no more idea of what I was going to do with my life than a panda.’
‘I don’t suppose she does either.’ Evelyn chuckled.
‘But being young and pretty gives her such an advantage. How could anyone be unhappy when they look like that first thing in the morning? I’m beginning to understand why people have cosmetic surgery.’
Evelyn laughed.
‘Mila might be secretly longing to be a quantity surveyor or a train driver. Beware. Chasing youth takes a lot of time, and money. I know I’m in the last bit of my life.
I might have five good summers left if I behave myself.
Do I want to spend them in a surgeon’s office trying to make “this” look younger?
What a waste of the time I have left. I’d rather spend the money on a lovely holiday or a fabulous outfit that makes me feel good, rather than worrying how complete strangers feel when they clap eyes on me. ’
Jack returned at that point, with some ham and cheese and a crusty bread roll, so the conversation changed.
‘Yes,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘I think you’re probably right.’