Chapter 20
Harriet and Anna went up onto the sundeck after lunch, taking with them Kindles and a bag full of sunscreen and mint imperials. They were also planning to take a dip in the pool later to cool off.
I didn’t fancy swimming just then. I hated sunbathing and I didn’t have a good book to read, so I decided to go off the boat for another walk through some of the enchanting parks and streets for which Opatija was famous.
It was such a lovely afternoon. The sky a dazzling blue, a gentle breeze from the sea and warmth from the sun. There was no threat of rain as in many September days in England, and I was looking forward to doing some exploring.
I left the boat and this time walked from the quay to the path leading to the right.
The path went alongside the sea, with more modern blocks of apartments and hotels on my left. The trees clustered closer then, the path narrower, the air cooler and scented with pine. I squared my shoulders and walked on.
Would I have been quite so confident a month ago? A year ago? Definitely not. But somehow I felt I could do this. I was not going to get lost as Fred had always told me I would. I was not useless and hopeless; I was going to be fine.
I passed a massive old house which looked closed up and possibly deserted.
What did houses cost here anyway? I only had the information gleaned from television programmes where couples with a relatively small amount of money wanted to buy a second home.
And without fail they found somewhere. Usually complete with dark brown kitchens, rotting plaster and a lot of unattractive furniture.
I stood and looked up at the stone steps leading up to the front door, an impressive stone balcony, rusty iron bars across the windows in the basement. The views over the sea must have been spectacular. Who had lived there? What would it take to buy such a place? How much would it cost to renovate?
I enjoyed a delightful daydream for a few minutes, where I did just that, and came to live in this beautiful place in that gorgeous house, and friends came to visit me, admiring my choices and my courage.
My newfound ability at interior décor. And then someone opened a window on the first floor and shook a duster. Hmm. Perhaps it wasn’t empty after all.
Maybe this was the sort of house that was disappointing and dull outside, but a magical and beautiful place within.
There would be sophisticated furniture and sparkling chandeliers.
Immaculate white carpets and an elegant couple, Imelda and Stefan, who lived there doing stylish things with their chic friends.
Stefan would be a successful businessman and Imelda would paint delicate watercolours which would be sold by galleries throughout Croatia.
Stefan would never throw his dirty socks into the laundry bin and miss, and Imelda would never sit on the stairs biting her nails with worry because Stefan was late home and his secretary was a flame-haired temptress with eyes filled with secrets.
I walked on. In front of me was a tiny harbour with several small boats, bobbing in the water. Beyond them was a rocky promontory where the surf creamed against the rocks.
At last I came out to a wide and glorious view over the sea, where a white hotel stood proudly above me.
By then I realised my feet were tired and I needed a rest, but more than that I wanted a glass of wine.
That was the thing with going for a walk, the aggravation of having to walk back again, and I wasn’t going to do that without some reward for my hard work.
I went up some stone steps and out into a garden which was lush with foliage and flowers.
In front of me was the most welcome sight in the world: a shaded patio with numerous little tables and ironwork chairs, and even better some menus on the tables and a waitress looking around to see if anyone wanted anything.
Instead of dumping me on a table by the dustbins as had been done to me in the past, she showed me to a table with a fabulous view over the coast and sweetly recommended a glass of Po?ip.
Having no idea what that was, I accepted and a few minutes later she brought it to my table, accompanied by a little china bowl of pistachios. My absolute favourite. I felt I was in heaven.
I sat there for quite a long time, as the sun dipped down towards the sea and the sky changed from clear sapphire to streaks of beautiful pale pink. There was going to be a lovely sunset.
The waitress came and asked if I needed anything else, and was I quite comfortable? It seemed she had a few minutes to chat. We agreed it had been a beautiful day, and she asked me a few questions about how long I was staying. She hoped I would return soon and then she went off again to her duties.
I looked at my watch. It was four thirty and it would take me an hour to get back to the ship.
The old me would have panicked and hurried off, fretting about being late, which even I could see was unlikely unless I fell off the path into the water.
The boat would leave at about seven thirty; there was plenty of time.
And most delightfully, my time was my own to do with as I pleased.
At last, I finished my wine, paid the bill and left a generous tip in the empty pistachio bowl.
Businesses always droned on about how we were important to them, but in reality it seldom felt like that.
The waitress didn’t know but she had treated me as though I really was important, that she cared, even though I was on my own.
Was this because she was a nice person, or was it that I was more confident in myself? Perhaps it was both.
* * *
I got back on board just before six o’clock.
It had taken me longer because on the way I had taken advantage of some of the thoughtfully placed benches, and I’d sat looking at the view and the lovely sunset, which was glorious.
It was a good opportunity to think, to consider the possibilities that were out there for me.
And although I didn’t have a master plan worked out, I felt somehow I would not be the same timid, apologetic person any longer.
I went to my cabin and had a shower, this time without any problems, and then having remembered to take off the tags, pulled on the purple shift dress I had bought.
It was a colour I never wore, and yet looking at my reflection, I could see it suited me.
The jewelled embellishment around the neckline was pretty, and it reflected the sunshine and sparked little flecks of light against my skin.
I felt quite the sassy lady. Imelda would have approved, I was sure.
* * *
When it was time to go along for the evening meal, the old me would have waited, hovering anxiously near to the cabins where my friends were getting ready. This time I didn’t; I went along towards the bar on my own, my footsteps echoing along the corridor, wondering where Jack was.
Don and Craig were already there of course, sitting on bar stools drinking whisky, their wives standing looking out of the window as the lights along the harbour began to glow in the darkening evening.
‘So pretty, isn’t it?’ Belinda said as I passed them. ‘I don’t know what I expected of Croatia, but this wasn’t it.’
‘Nor me,’ Dawn said. ‘It’s incredibly clean, isn’t it?
The flowers have been playing havoc with my hay fever but on balance we’ve had a good day.
I even had an ice cream, so I expect I will pay for that later.
My innards can be very sensitive. I’ve taken an antihistamine and a paracetamol just in case. ’
Don swivelled in his seat and saw me. ‘Ah, there she is, it’s Liz, isn’t it? One of the three glamour pusses from the top deck. Looking particularly elegant this evening.’
Slightly pleased to be called glamorous even if it was Don, who by the look of him had successfully maintained his alcohol levels throughout the day, I smiled.
‘Had a good day? I’ve had a lovely walk along the Lungomare. Absolutely beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Certainly is,’ Craig agreed. ‘Now, let’s buy you a drink.’
‘It’s a free bar,’ Don reminded him.
‘So it is. Well, let’s get you a free drink instead. What’s your poison? A nice gin? Or a cocktail perhaps?’
‘Mineral water would be fine for now,’ I said. ‘It would be very easy to overdo things, wouldn’t it?’
‘That’s what we’re hoping, aren’t we, Donny lad?’ Craig said, elbowing Don in the ribs.
‘That’s very sensible,’ Dawn said approvingly. ‘People drink far too much wine. Not so long ago there wasn’t such a thing. And no one would call me a killjoy; I enjoy a sherry at Christmas and I really like a sip of communion wine. But that’s enough for me.’
‘I’m looking forward to a good meal, and a nice bottle of wine,’ Don said, ‘and there’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘Don, you were supposed to be getting me a Cosmo,’ Belinda said, ‘and an orange juice for Dawn. Have the bar staff failed to turn up this time?’
‘Not a bit of it, my little hornets’ nest,’ Don said cheerfully, handing me a glass of fizzy water, ‘coming right up. Bernardo, how about a Cosmopolitan for my lovely lady wife?’
‘Of course. What an excellent choice. It will be here momentarily,’ Bernardo said.
‘No idea what that means,’ Don said. ‘Let’s wait and see, shall we?’
‘Ah, there you are,’ Anna said, sashaying into the bar, Harriet a few steps behind her. Her new dress certainly was a showstopper and Don’s eyes bulged slightly at the sight of her.
‘Drinks, ladies,’ he said. ‘What’s your pleasure?’
‘A Cosmo, Don,’ Belinda said testily. ‘Today would be nice.’
‘Of course,’ Don said, rather chastened.
Harriet went to speak to Mila, who was working at the other end of the bar, and ordered two gin and tonics.
Ignoring Craig’s suggestion that we join them, we sat down at a table and watched as the workers on the dockside cast off the ropes, freeing the Atalanta for the next part of her journey. Slowly the boat moved away from the dockside and turned to face the open sea.
And so was I, I realised. I too had cast off from my old life and was heading into new waters, towards my future. I gave a little shiver. Was it trepidation or excitement?