Chapter Eleven
Nerves are the tide within us, they rise and fall, like the sea lapping the shore.
Henry sat at the desk in his cabin and munched on the chocolate that Jennifer had left on his pillow the evening before. A raffle ticket for the captain’s Gala Raffle lay beside his book and he noted that the number was seventy.
‘Same as my age,’ he murmured and hoped that it was lucky.
Taking a pen and a postcard of the Atlantic Ocean Road that he’d purchased at the coffee shop, he began to write.
Audrey loved a colourful postcard dropping onto her doormat, especially from a long-distance location.
Beside her chair in her sitting room, she had an old biscuit tin full of faded memories from friends who’d sent her news of their travels with cards showing sun-bleached scenes of faraway cities and snapshots of historical monuments.
Stamps from every corner of the globe, and looped handwriting described the destinations, and occasionally, when they were having tea, Audrey opened the tin to share a tale or two with Henry.
He knew that these treasures filled her with happy memories from her own days of travel, and during his cruise, he intended to add more to her collection.
Ending his greeting, Henry put down his pen and turned to see a passenger jogging along the deck. The man stopped by Henry’s cabin, placed a foot on the steamer chair by Henry’s door, and bent his body into knee squats.
‘Good morning!’ Henry called out and raised his hand to wave, but when he received no reply, he remembered that the doors were mirrored one way.
It was the man Henry had nicknamed Jack Frost. He wore a T-shirt, shorts, and trainers and paused to catch his breath. Henry smiled and slid the door wide open. ‘Good morning,’ Henry repeated his greeting. ‘You’re a brave soul,’ he added, ‘the temperature must be minus many degrees today.’
The man looked up. ‘Care to join me for a few lunges? Nothing like crisp arctic air to get the blood pumping.’
Henry noted that the man’s skin was pale and almost blue, and several veins pulsed. When he exhaled, the air was misty in the freezing cold. ‘Are you sure exercising in such extreme temperatures is good for you?’
‘The cold helps maintain my flexibility and with a view like this, I can exercise for longer.’
The ship was cruising through a fjord, and they both turned to stare at ice-capped mountains peeping through the darkened sky. Red-tiled roofs of occasional dwellings, barely visible, dotted the shoreline, where tiny fishing communities were only accessible by boat.
Henry thought that if he was to strip off to plunge his body into a lunge, he might never get upright again. ‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ he said, ‘I’m not as brave or as fit as you.’
‘How did you know my name?’ the man appeared puzzled.
‘Er, I didn’t.’ Henry was startled. ‘I mean, it’s just a lucky guess.’ He realised he’d voiced his nickname for the man aloud and was even more surprised that the man was actually called Jack.
‘You must be psychic.’ Jack held out his hand. ‘If you ever want to work out, let me know. You can leave a note at my cabin on the Marina Deck, 1904.’
‘I’ll probably pass but thank you.’
Henry was about to return to his cabin when a sudden splash of colourful cagoules rounded the ship’s port side, and a battalion of sprightly passengers came into view.
‘That’ll be the Deck Mile Club,’ Jack said, pausing in his lunges. ‘They do this route every day at the same time.’
Henry stared as the group, rosy-cheeked and clad in fleece-lined clothing and warm hats, steadily marched towards him, pounding the promenade deck with rubber-tipped walking poles.
Leading the group, Henry recognised Judy, who wore her embroidered felt hat.
She waved when she saw Jack, her face suddenly alight.
‘Oh Lord, not her again,’ Jack said and bowed his head. ‘If she gets any closer, I’ll have to jump overboard.’
‘Has she taken a shine to you?’
‘I can’t shake her off. She’s like a great iceberg and likely to sink me if I let her get close. I bet my route is programmed in her Fitbit.’
‘Do you want to hide in my cabin?’
But it was too late. Judy, with her target in sight, closed in.
‘Jack!’ she said. ‘There you are, I’ve been hoping to see you. You’re such an inspiration to the Deck Mile Club.’
Judy towered over Jack, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide. Reaching out her mittened hand, she grabbed his arm and insisted he continue the route with the group.
‘See you on the other side!’ Jack called out to Henry as Judy moved Jack along.
Henry watched the sprightly parade set off again. But the freezing cold penetrated his sweater, and rubbing his arms, he stepped back to the warmth of his cabin, where he picked up the postcard and re-read his message to Audrey.
Henry said that he hoped she was keeping well and that the flu-like infection she was fighting off when he left had cleared up.
He thought about his houseplants and knew he would have a rescue mission on his return.
Despite instructions that one light watering would be sufficient in his absence, Audrey considered it her duty to give them a daily dose of feed and water while checking Henry’s house.
It was a wonder that her own vast urns of ferns and potted palms stayed alive.
Tucking the card in his pocket to take to guest services for posting, Henry opened his cabin door.
To his surprise, he almost collided with Jennifer. Flicking her duster, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You enjoy cruise?’ she asked.
‘Yes, thank you, I’m enjoying it enormously.’
‘You like chocolate?’
‘Very much, thank you for leaving one on my pillow.’
‘You want more?’ She reached into a box on her housekeeping trolley.
‘No, really, I’m fine.’
‘Any blankets or extra towels?’ Jennifer appeared insistent on helping Henry.
‘You provide everything I need and are doing an excellent job.’
Henry attempted to inch his way around her trolley, but Jennifer stood firm. He wondered if he ought to tip her each day but remembered his booking stated an amount would be added to his cabin bill for staff gratuities.
‘Some passengers not so friendly.’ Jennifer smiled, eyes twinkling.
Henry felt a little flustered. ‘Well, good manners cost nothing.’
Jennifer giggled. ‘You always travel alone, Mr Henry?’
Mr Henry cleared his throat and tugged the cuff of his sweater. ‘Yes, well … I er, like the peace and quiet.’
In truth Henry had had more than enough peace and quiet at home. The ship’s buzz and being amongst the chatter of strangers and participating in daily activities made him feel part of something again. But Jennifer’s unwavering attention was unsettling, and he wasn’t sure how to deflect it politely.
‘Well, have a good day,’ Henry said, and Jennifer stepped aside at last, her expression warm, eyes bright.
‘You too, Mr Henry,’ she said, her smile lingering.
Moving along the corridor, Henry felt a prickling awareness that Jennifer’s gaze followed him, and feeling the need to put distance between them, he stepped up his pace and hurriedly walked away.
Approaching the stairs, Henry remembered that this was a sea day, and as they sailed north towards Troms?, they were going to be crossing the Arctic Circle that afternoon.
He’d read in his Daily Times that the Arctic Circle crossing ceremony was a recognised, light-hearted maritime rite of passage, rooted in old sailor traditions.
Passengers would be invited to join crew members in marking the milestone event with an enjoyable ritual, and everyone would receive a certificate to commemorate their entry into the Arctic.
But first, Henry would have breakfast and then enjoy a talk by Bill Zhang, the astrophotography expert and guest speaker who was hosting ‘Chasing and Photographing the Aurora’.
Seated in the buffet restaurant, Henry tucked into poached eggs and bacon and reflected on the cruise. He wasn’t sure that he’d repeat the impromptu line-dancing that the effusive Nora had forced him to participate in the previous evening, but otherwise, so far, so good.
From his elevated window table, Henry looked around and noticed Joy walk past. Following a server who was guiding her to a table, she gripped her bag to her side and appeared anxious. Then, as though changing her mind, she suddenly turned and left the restaurant.
Henry wondered if Joy found it challenging to enter a crowded room.
Had her confidence been depleted after decades of marriage and unexpectedly ending up alone?
Joy had been pleased to see him when they alighted from the coach the previous day.
Had she felt like a fish out of water on her first solo excursion?
He thought that it took courage to ask if she could join him and he decided he would be more attuned to her feelings if such an occasion arose again.
As he pushed his empty plate to one side and a server poured more coffee, it occurred to Henry that he liked Joy.
It was an odd emotion and not one he’d experienced for a long time.
Audrey was his closest friend, and he enjoyed her company; the old lady’s sharp wit was entertaining, and their debates stimulating.
The friendship for Henry, had been enough in the years since he reluctantly retired.
Now, staring out at the brooding sea and distant horizon, he thought of his past loves and regrets.
Henry knew that he should have married. Opportunities had been there, but either he was a coward regarding commitment, or he’d never met the right person to spend the rest of his days with.
He wondered if he would have been a good father.
Sadly, he’d never know, but generations of young people had passed through his classes, and his supportive role as their tutor had filled the gaping fatherhood gap.
Joy was good company, Henry decided as he folded his napkin, and he’d been delighted to be with her at dinner, the Christmas quiz, and the excursion.
But he could tell that she was still grieving for her husband, and any attention he might pay her could be easily misinterpreted.
God knows, one read of men searching out vulnerable women for financial gain or hitting on them when they were going through a low ebb.
Actions can be so easily misinterpreted! Dating at Henry’s age was a minefield, and not an area he’d venture into again. Don’t be an old fool, Henry told himself as he pushed back his chair and thanked the steward who’d taken care of him. Joy may be lovely, but she’s strictly out of bounds.
Friendship? Most certainly.
Romance? Scrub the thought.
Checking his watch, Henry realised he’d need to get a wriggle on to secure a front row seat at Bill Zhang’s talk. Henry was keen to witness the Northern Lights and needed to know as much as he could. Wasn’t that the reason he’d booked this holiday?
But as Henry made his way through the ship, he couldn’t help wondering what Joy had planned for the day.
Joy’s plans for the day had suddenly changed.
She’d intended to enjoy a quiet breakfast in the buffet restaurant, but the moment she stepped through the doors and a server offered to guide her to a shared table, the noise and press of bodies was overwhelming and a tightening in her chest sent her pulse racing.
Gripping her bag and turning on her heels, Joy blindly hurried from the room, her appetite gone and her confidence in tatters.
As she fumbled with the button to summon a lift, the doors suddenly opened, and Leticia and Jim appeared.
‘Joy.’ Leticia smiled. ‘Good morning.’
‘H … hello,’ Joy gasped, the familiar terror worsening as she realised that she might make a scene. ‘I need to …’
But Leticia the nurse had already noted the physical signs of distress, and she reached out to take Joy’s hand. Pale and visibly shaking, Joy was struggling to catch her breath.
‘It’s all right,’ Leticia said, ‘you’re safe, I’m with you.’
Leticia turned and whispered to Jim, who nodded understandingly. Placing his hands on the electronic motor button on his chair, he made his way to the restaurant, while Leticia led Joy to a quiet corner and eased her onto a sofa.
‘Breathe with me, nice and slow,’ she said, ‘think of the waves, gently rising and falling.’
Joy closed her eyes and let Leticia’s soothing voice take over. At first her chest still fluttered, like a butterfly trapped in a jar. But as she pictured a shoreline and each foamy wave, a rhythm came, and her shaking fingers began to still.
Leticia reached into her bag and took the cap from a fresh bottle of water. ‘Have a sip,’ she said, her gentle approach calming Joy.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Joy muttered, reaching for the bottle. ‘I don’t know what happened, I haven’t felt like this for months.’
‘It’s perfectly understandable,’ Leticia said. ‘Sometimes being in a crowded place can trigger things.’
‘It’s a panic attack,’ Joy explained. ‘It happened often after Tom died, but I thought I’d got over them.’ Joy didn’t mention that she’d experienced many similar attacks before he died, too. She realised that she was still holding Leticia’s hand. It felt warm and comforting, and Joy began to relax.
‘Why don’t we go to your cabin, and I’ll make you a cup of tea? You might want to rest for a little while.’
Joy nodded, and together they stood up.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Joy said, ‘I’m being a terrible nuisance.’
‘Of course you’re not, we all have our moments,’ Leticia said softly.
By the time they reached Joy’s cabin, the tightness in her chest had eased and propped up on her bed with a mug of Leticia’s sweet tea in her hand, Joy was almost back to normal.
‘I’ll pop back in a little while,’ Leticia said, ‘try and rest.’
‘You’ve been very kind,’ Joy whispered as the door closed.
Leticia’s quiet strength had steadied her, and she felt grateful for the woman’s fast action. Perhaps they would become cruise buddies after all.
‘Thank you.’ And for the first time in a long while, Joy meant it.