A Ship's Tale (18 page)

The storm continued to grow quite violent with flashes of lightning closely followed by deafening peals of thunder. People were concerned with getting home before it grew even worse, although closing time was yet a while off. I sat at the fire, watching somewhat anxiously for Katherine to come back in. When she did, however, she only added to my unease by pointedly ignoring me. And all because that bloody Giles Pilford didn't like a Russian accent. It just wasn't fair. Eventually everyone had left, and I was happy to put the day behind me and think about the future, which I hoped would start just about the time Katherine got off work, if she'd only acknowledge my existence!

Getting tired of the silent treatment, I decided to go upstairs for some dry clothes. As soon as I'd switched on the light, I noticed that someone had come in and tidied up the place. I knew it must have been Katherine. There she'd been trimming up my humble nest, and I'd repaid her by helping break up the pub. I wanted to go straightaway and thank her, but I had a feeling that it would be best to leave her alone for the moment.

I changed out of my damp clothes, wondering if I should just pack it in and go to bed. I glanced out the window to see if there was a light showing in Katherine's cottage, and switched off the lamp to better see out through the wind-driven rain. I paced and fretted in the dark for what seemed an eternity, listening to the groans and clattering of the old inn, till at last I saw her window was lit. I wanted to apologise and resume the thread of our dinner conversation, but now I hesitated to approach her. I paced and fretted for another eternity, unsure of how to proceed. Despite the noise of the storm, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone coming up my ladder. As I strained to hear, there came a soft thud and a gasp. I put the light on just as Katherine appeared, holding her head.

“That's the third time today,” she groaned. “They didn't make this any too spacious,” she groaned.

“That sounded like quite a smack,” I said. “The damned thing lies in wait for the unwary. Can I do anything?” I held out my hand uncertainly, and was relieved when she took hold of it. I gently pulled her towards me and gave her a hug. “I saw your light go on, but I wasn't sure that you'd care for me popping by.”

She drew back enough to look me in the eyes. “I wasn't so sure myself for a while. But after all, knocking heads is what men
do
, isn't it? It seemed safer to collar the brute in his lair than to have him running about loose in the storm and scratching at one's door.”

“Here!” I protested. “Brute indeed! I didn't start the trouble and stood off mostly.”

“We need not worry about interruptions in my room tonight, the Beasley is otherwise occupied.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Ah-h,” she nodded.

“Ooh!” I shuddered. The lightning and thunder suddenly burst in approved haunted-house fashion, as though to emphasise the horror of it.

We sat down on the bed together laughing. “So, what do you think?” she asked, with a wave at the room.

“I
thought
it was you,” I grinned. “It's quite an improvement, but I'll miss my cobwebs,”

“Honestly, Flynn, I can't believe you've actually been living like this. By the number of spiders in the ironwork of your bed and in every crevice of the rafters, one would think you were breeding the things. Had I caught sight of them the other night, I might have been a bit more selective as to where I chose to lay my head.”

I looked at her abashed. “Yes, well, I never claimed this place was fit for polite company. Anyway, what with not knowing just how long I'd be staying, I wasn't over-anxious to make a serious assault on the Empire of Dust here.” I peered out the window, and noticed a spark of light still showing in Katherine's cottage window. “You've left a candle burning, you know.”

“Actually I was planning on returning there,” she explained. “One shouldn't be wasteful by leaving a candle burning in an empty room.”

“But here it's so snug and tidy now,” I coaxed.

She shook her head with a little laugh. “Now really, Flynn! I'm sure you could do with a nightcap after the soaking you had this evening.”

I couldn't detect a bottle on her person. “Is Martin still down in the pub?” I asked.

“No,” she answered offhandedly, “but not far away there's a nice little cottage we could go to.”

“Do I take that as an invitation?” I asked.

“Oh I should think so,” she smiled, “but just for a nightcap.”

I got my coat, switched off the light, and quickly descended ladder and stairway, pausing at the kitchen door as Katherine threw on her cape. We stopped and looked out the window at the pelting rain.

“Well, that's not letting up soon,” she said, “and it's just as well. We'd best have the torch off. No point in attracting attention.”

I switched off the torch and opened the door, taking her hand. “Oh, kind lady, it's awfully dark out there. You'd best keep hold or I might get lost along the way.”

“Oh hush,” she laughed, and out we went into the deluge. We took the short way through the kitchen garden and splashed across the lawn to her cottage. We slipped inside, where the candle's mellow glow combined with the heat of the little stove to create an atmosphere of comfort that struck a responsive chord of hearth and home in me. I gave an inward sigh of wistful longing. Think of coming home to this every night!

Cape and coat were hung up to dry. Katherine looked out of the window as she drew the curtains shut and shivered. “What a miserable night,” she observed.

Bringing out the bottle and glasses ready on the table, I sat down and poured us each a tot. I raised my glass. “To the weather, long may it rain,” I toasted.

“What, you really want this?” she asked incredulously.

“It has to do with our sails not being ready yet. This storm is supposed to last a couple of days. This should buy enough time for our needs, so cross your fingers and pray for more.”

She sat on the bed and sipped at her whisky. “Well then, I shall try to cultivate more pleasant associations with rainy weather.” She looked about at the spare but sturdy little room. “The War didn't end for all of us when the shooting stopped. I can remember some very cold desperate nights in the wet.” She took another sip and gazed at the ceiling.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured. I didn't want her to get depressed again tonight, especially as I hoped to hear her decision about coming with us.

She went on. “Some people simply aren't very chivalrous towards young girls on their own. The sort who offer one a place to sleep, and then in the middle of the night when it's got good and nasty outside, surprise! It's more than sleep that's offered. I'd wind up huddled in some wretched corner many a night after refusing an invitation to share a bed. It's been such a luxury having my own little place, and feeling a bit
safe
again. You're quite sure that this,” she waved her hand around the room, “wouldn't fit on the ship?”

“I'll find you something better than this up north,” I said reassuringly.

“We'll see. And how are your salty friends taking to the idea of having a woman on board doing their cooking and supervising their eating habits?”

“Oh. Well, I haven't got that specific as yet,” I admitted. “You really should come down to the ship and get better acquainted with them in their natural habitat. They do like you already, you know.”

She made a face at that, then rose and squeezed in next me in the old chair. I put my arm around her, and we sat nestled together in the warm candlelight by the fire, listening to the wind and rain. I burrowed my nose into her soft chestnut hair, drinking in the scent of lavender, with a subtle something that was all her own.

“I've something to show you,” she said, going over to the wardrobe. She opened the doors. It was almost empty of clothing. “Nearly everything that was here is packed up in my suitcase and my trunk as well. Now, I still haven't made up my mind whether I'm going along on your mad voyage, but I'm ready to be off at a moment's notice.”

I could have done a little dance then and there! “Well,” I advised her, “a moment's notice may be all you get.”

Katherine sat on the bed looking thoughtful, “Though I don't anticipate using her as a reference in the future, I'd hate to leave Mrs. Beasley with no one to help her. I should ring up Jean in the village and put in a discreet word for her to be standing by.”

I agreed that we shouldn't be heartless about this. I didn't feel too badly for my own part, since the garden was really in splendid shape now. “Let's not worry about Mrs. Beastly. It's bound to be a shock when we disappear, but she'll have Martin. Of course the gallant O'Connell will be here to comfort her.”

She laughed. “Exactly my own thoughts. But
should
I decide to come, I'll need to have a look at this galley of yours. I can just imagine what that's like. It's sure to need some work. Can I see it tomorrow, do you think?”

I smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “You're an angel,” I said. “We'll walk down there tomorrow when you're off work. But now,” I continued as I reached for my coat, “since we're both to be up early, I must be off, so I'll be fresh for Mrs. Beastly's morning hysterical fit.”

Katherine positioned herself between the door and me. “Not yet, me lad,” she said. “There's a little matter of talking about the future which we promised ourselves the other night. Tired or not, I want to feel sure of more than just a job as the ship's cook!”

I hadn't really thought of just when we would talk but now seemed as good a time as any, better in fact, with the firelight and the warmth and the whisky to help move my stubborn tongue along.

“Yes, I can see how you'd be anxious,” I said as I hung up my coat.

She wagged a finger at me. “Despite some dusting and de-cobbing, your room still has certain deficiencies. Don't you think this is a much more romantic place to be spending the night?”

“Spending…? Well, that all depends…” I began.

She sighed. “Flynn! You needn't pretend such innocence with me.”

“Here! I don't pretend a thing, especially innocence. It's just that I'd rather know I was welcome than assume something and find I'd assumed wrongly.”

“Well, if you don't know you're welcome by now—oh, make yourself useful. Bung some more coal onto the fire,” she said disgustedly.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said humbly, tugging at my forelock. I took some lumps from the scuttle and threw them into the little stove, then went over and sat next to her on the bed. I still felt awkward, and I'm sure Katherine could sense it.

She gazed earnestly into my eyes. “I suppose one can never really know how another feels. But I hope you feel as I do.” She looked down. “I just need to be sure.”

This took me by surprise. “I certainly never meant to seem distant. I just didn't know how to…I mean…Damn it, Katherine, this is all coming out so wrong,” I said in frustration.

Her eyes were ever so soft. “Just say it, Flynn.”

Come on, Flynn! This is the moment of truth. You
want
to say it. You're
trying
to say it. Be out with it! I drew her towards me. My tongue still seemed tied, but just holding her and looking into her eyes was working magic, and I said, “Katherine, I care for you more than I could have believed possible, and more than my words can express. I do, you know.”

Her face lit in such a smile, that I was well repaid for that supreme effort. “I daresay we've both had our rejections in the past, but that doesn't mean one should go through life expecting them.”

“You're quite right,” I agreed, and kissed her. Or rather,
we
kissed. And kissed. It was a kiss that I knew went through both of us. Didn't Shakespeare say something like eternity was in our eyes and lips? I knew what that meant now. Somewhere in another time, our mouths parted briefly, breathlessly.

“Flynn…” Katherine whispered, “you manage to say so much in so few words that a girl can be bowled over without thinking. We've known each other such a short while. I still can't help being afraid…”

“Don't be,” I put in gently. We sat for a time just holding one another, listening to the storm.

We turned and watched as the candle guttered and went out. The rain drummed on the roof, and the wind sang to us through the trees as we two joined the night.

Chapter 12

MUCH ADO AND THE PIES THAT BIND

Katherine's alarm clock seemed to ring only moments later. At first I thought it must be a mistake, but when I rolled over to shut it off, the hands stood at six o'clock. Katherine stirred beside me in the dim light, her hair spread on the pillow, looking like some old master painting come to life. Outside, the storm had settled into a steady downpour. Though it was a blessing for us at the ship, there was much to do and we wouldn't be comfortable doing it in weather like this. The rain seemed to have a pulse to it, chanting lie abed, lie abed, lie abed—sweet torture, when one couldn't heed its siren song.

I gently smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed her sleeping eyes. “Katherine, the alarm's gone off, time to get up.” I whispered.

She groaned. “Oh, can't we just stay in bed till spring?”

“Wicked temptress! Trying to lure a poor sailor to his doom?” I said.

She laughed. “Your bones will be discovered a hundred years hence with a great big smile across the skull.”

I had to kiss her then. Nature would surely have taken its course once more had not less sublime urges intervened. “I've got to go over to the Inn,” I said regretfully. “Shall I wait the bath for you?”

“No, you go on, I'll be in presently.” Her face took on an impish expression. “I might even join you.” And she pulled the covers over her head.

What a girl! God, my heart was bursting with her. I put my mouth close to her covered face. “Does this mean you'll be our ship's cook?”

She uncovered just her eyes and peered at me. “Some people will do
anything
for a decent meal. Your clever campaign has succeeded. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth now. What a simple creature I am.” Then her eyes grew serious. “But you must take very good care of me.”

“The best care, the
very
best care, Katherine,” I promised. Oh, it was hard to tear myself away, but I crept out of bed and quickly dressed. Katherine lay watching me, only her eyes showing. “I'll see you soon,” I called softly and slipped outside. I darted across the lawn and through the kitchen garden. No one was about as I passed the kitchen and fetched down some fresh clothes. Soon I was gratefully showering under warm water, being careful to leave plenty for Katherine. When I emerged from the bath, she passed me going in, not the least bit shy. She gave me a quick kiss as she went by. I felt ready to take on the world and wrestle lions!

To add to the perfection of this morning, the Beastly One hadn't shown herself and we were left to ourselves in the kitchen. We lingered over a breakfast seasoned with kisses and were fighting the temptation to return to the cottage when Martin came in. He took one look at us, then rolled his eyes.

“Good morning, children,” he said, making his way from the pub through the inner door. I was glad Mrs. B. was not there to spoil things with one of her snide remarks.

“Good morning, teacher,” we chorused.

“And where is Mrs. B. this morning?” asked Katherine.

Martin put down his cup with a smile of pure pleasure. “Well, you know, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her and Mr. O'Connell staggering in completely inebriated—just blotto! They were utterly sodden with rain. I believe the elegant Bentley had broken down and the poor things had to walk all the way back in the storm.”

There was a moment of silence, and then we all burst into wild laughter. The picture Martin conjured up was so richly graphic. We were having such fun that I had to remind myself there was much to do, and I should be at it.

I heaved a sigh, “I'd best take myself down to the ship, and see what's afoot.” I rose from the table and kissed Katherine's hair. “Don't you go away! I still half think I've dreamed you.” I got my wellies and mac from the cupboard by the scullery door and made ready to brave the wet. A long kiss at the door made me begin to reconsider my purpose, but Katherine was equal to the test, and heartlessly shooed me out into the rain. I made my way to the lane and began walking briskly.

As I splashed through the puddles, it was hard to imagine there'd ever be another dry day, but we'd be wanting one soon. Dear old rain! Rain was helping save the
Bonnie Clyde
, and it was rain drumming on the roof that would always make me think of last night with Katherine. It seemed that all that had gone before in my life was only preparation for what was to come. Yet where would it have all gone had I not come here?

There came a rumble amidst the roaring hiss of the rain as a lorry came up from behind. I moved over to let it pass, dimly visible through the unending curtain of water. I forged on. Finding a bit of tree branch along the way, I began to use it as a walking stick. After a few minutes a second lorry went by, then a third. That struck me as unusual, for the only lorry that should be passing this way was Harris's. Discarding my walking stick, I picked up my pace to a steady jog and soon reached the moorage.

The three lorries stood side by side, with men busily carrying sacks and crates up the gangway onto the ship. The winch was also grinding away. Boris had several types of block and tackle rigged up in makeshift fashion to lower these goods into the forward hold, where scant days before had reposed only rotted canvas going to mould. Seeing Harris at the rail with his back to me, I went up the gangway and put my hand on his shoulder.

He jumped and whirled to face me. “Damn it, Flynn, don't creep up on me like that! We're trying to get these things loaded and the lorries out before raising any suspicion. It's unsettling.”

“I didn't creep up at all,” I said innocently, suppressing a smile.

He relaxed, “Perhaps we're all just a little edgy today with this storm, much as we need it.”

“What's all this?” I asked, waving a hand at the loading.

“Provisions, me boy!” he answered. “All this lot is what we've been storing up for the voyage. We'll need plenty of water and food, plus a few other necessaries,” and he held up a flask of aspect both familiar and welcome.

“Don't you think it a bit early for that?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows and regarded the flask solemnly mouthing his pipe. “Well, perhaps I'll let it age a little more, say, until lunch.”

I laughed, shaking my head, and turned to watch. Crates, boxes, sacks, and jugs were being lowered into the hold, many shrouded in glistening wet oilcloth. There seemed a great deal of it, enough it appeared for a world cruise. Were we expecting to reach Scotland by way of the Antipodes? Then again, it wouldn't hurt to have something left for our new beginnings up north. People
do
eat in Dumbarton! And winter is coming.

Harris looked round the ship and sighed. “When Bowman, Robert, and Edward stop fighting over who's captain, navigator, and cook, we may actually get somewhere with this.”

“Well, Harris, I'm glad you brought that up. I don't know how to put this, but I've found a cook for the voyage, provided everyone agrees.”

Harris's mouth dropped open. “You don't mean to say you've actually been telling anyone else what's going on here?” he cried.

“No, no, not at all. I've done nothing to endanger the project,” I reassured him. “Each of us should keep to the jobs we know best. By bringing in a proper cook, we can be done with this squabbling. I get the impression that neither of those old salts knows much about cooking. Bowman should concentrate on being ship's master. As to Edward, he may be a fine navigator, but I doubt he could find his arse with both hands in the galley.”

Harris regarded me rather coldly, and then turned away, as he weighed the danger of a possible security leak against our need for a cook. He looked back, fixing me with a keen eye. “Well, whoever you're thinking of as cook would have to keep very quiet about this. Everything will be happening here very suddenly, and we don't want any last-minute complications. I'd really like to know who this fellow is you've seen fit to include amongst us. Do you know for a fact that he can cook an edible meal for over twenty? I know we'll not be eating as well as we've been up at the Inn, but I'm also not fond of salt pork and ship's biscuits. So, do you suppose you could indulge me by divulging the name of this mysterious person?”

“Well, yes, I could, but I won't right now,” I said evasively, using his own conversational tactics. “I can tell you this, though, there's no reason whatever that you should be eating any poorer than you've been at the Inn.”

“And what the devil is that supposed to mean?” said Harris.

This time I quoted Bowman. “All things in good time,” I said airily. “Come by the Inn tonight and we'll discuss it further in private. Perhaps I can introduce you to the party in question.” I'd found that employing Harrisisms and Bowmanisms often brought compliance—either that or instant rejection.

“Oh very well,” he said grudgingly, “There's a good deal doing here with the loading, and plenty more to do after that. Well, off with you now.” With a last measuring look at me, he moved off to lend a hand at the hatchway.

This seemed dismissal, so I made my way down the gangway and started back towards the Inn. The contents of the lorries were being piled on the bank to speed unloading, and get the vehicles out of the vicinity as soon as possible. I started back up the lane, thinking of how quickly everything would be happening. I hoped I'd be equal to it all. This was a new and different life coming, for better or worse. I hoped it better for Katherine's sake, as well as my own. Lord knows I'd had enough from a demanding old battle-axe, but I had to thank her for Katherine.

The driving wind was blowing even harder as I approached the Inn. I looked in the kitchen window and was gladdened to see Katherine bustling about. The next instant Mrs. Beastly came into view. She didn't appear to be enjoying one of her rare good-tempered mornings. Thursday was baking day, and storm clouds always hung low over the Beasley ménage on that day. My poor Katherine was trapped in there with that harridan. I watched until the Beastly One went through the inner door, before I darted inside. I was met by a rush of warm air laden with the heavenly odours of baking.

Katherine looked up from the breadboard, flushed and floured to the elbows, but apparently bearing up very well. “There you are,” she smiled, “and looking half drowned, I must say.”

I looked down at the muddy pool forming about my feet. “Perhaps I could be more presentable.” I glanced at the inner door.

“She won't be back for a few minutes at least,” she said with amusement. “She's seeing her v
isitor
off, and this time there's no Bentley parked by her door.”

I made a face. Disengaging herself from a great mound of dough, Katherine came closer. “I suppose we'll have to wait and see each other in the pub later, since things are going to be lively in here with Mrs. B. for some time yet. Oh, she just has to moan! This time she's moaning over such a late start to the baking. But don't worry, all her fussing means nothing to me. I'm far too happy.”

“And me too,” I said. “It's such a comfort to know I can just drop in and say hello to you when I feel like it. But I've plenty to occupy myself. Would you think me a coward for avoiding the Beastly?”

She laughed, “Not at all. I told her you're outside working. I seem to recall you promised to dress a duck for me?”

“Oh, there's a nice grisly finish to my morning,” I groaned.

“Well, it could be worse. It could be Purdy.” She quipped.

I put on a snarl. “I wouldn't mind plucking and gutting Purdy in the least.
Or
O'Connell!”

She laughed. “Isn't he a savage creature?”

“You don't know the half of it, my dear,” I said. “Now where's that wretched duck?”

“Oh, you can't do it in here. You could use the scullery, but Mrs. B. would be over your shoulder all the while. I hung it in the shed. You can do the deed out there and not worry over the mess.” With a quick look at the inner door, she put her face up for a kiss, and I wasn't slow to oblige. Now I felt equal to any bloody duck. Show me a bushel of 'em!

Warmed by this, I went off to the shed. Some time after, I presented myself at the kitchen door with the naked fowl in hand, having first looked to be sure the landlady was out of the room.

“Oh that's splendid,” said Katherine. “Men are good for something after all!”

“What shall I do with it now?” I asked.

“Put in under Mrs. B.'s pillow,” she grinned. “Oh, give it here, I'll see to it.”

I handed it over, “I'll see you tonight?”

“Tonight.” She kissed me quickly and hurried into the pantry.

As there was some time yet before my lunch, I thought I'd see how the garden was faring with all this wet weather and forced myself back out the door. Pushing against the wind and lashing rain, I made my way around the property finding nothing worse than some lesser-fallen branches and flattened perennials. The pond was doing its best simulation of High Seas on the Broad Atlantic, with the surface a veritable maelstrom as the rain beat down on it. The birds were huddled amongst the shrubbery. Coming closer, I noticed the intended rockery had migrated downhill in the storm, including all the stones I'd carried up the small slope. The whole lot had formed quite a mountain at the edge of the pond. There was the start of Mrs. Beastly's Great Wall. I felt much easier abandoning this project. Whoever took it up after me wouldn't have so much to do.

I'd earned my lunch by now. The pub had just opened, and I had myself some soup and bread—not new bread, worse luck—it was too early. Afterwards, I stood by the fire and got myself thoroughly dried and warmed. Katherine was a prisoner in the kitchen, whence issued the muffled sounds of Mrs. Beastly in full cry. I decided to nip back down to the ship and make myself useful. Back into the rain I went.