Love a Sailor (2 page)

The
stormy conditions have worsened while the captain and I sat talking.
Sukey’s walk on the deck is out of the question now. The lowering sky has
merged with the sea, blotting out the sun and isolating the corkscrewing ship
in its monochromatic shipping lane. I hurry to the nursery, sparing a
sympathetic thought for all the passengers who will continue to suffer, but who
will still be too sick to witness my t
ê
te-
à
-t
ê
te
with the captain over dinner.

Sukey doesn’t notice me enter the Playroom. She’s too busy
with some complicated building project with another little girl whom she’s
bossing about, her fair curls bouncing as she emphasizes her point. When I call
out to her, she spins round and lifts up her little face to greet me with a big
smile. Her sherry-colored eyes are dancing with enjoyment.

“See, Merry. See what I’ve made.”

The nurse looks up. “Hi, Mrs Roxley? Sukey’s been a very
good girl. And isn’t she like her mother? You could be sisters.”

I look at her name tab — Moira. “Thank you for looking
after our precious girl, Moira, but Sukey’s my cousin, not my daughter.”

She laughs, “I can see that now. Of course, you’re much
too young. She’s a good kid and I’m happy to have her here any time.”

“Come along, Sukey. It’s time for lunch,” I say, taking
the child’s hand and helping her to her feet.

Sukey is about to resist when several other parents come
in to collect their children. “Can I come back again, Merry?”

“Of course, you can. Now say thank you to Moira.”

*

The storm hasn’t affected the children’s appetites and
their lunchtime is as noisy and messy as usual, but Sukey and I are soon
through with it and walking hand in hand down the long corridors towards our
suite of sitting room and two cabins. Our suite is on the top deck and each
cabin has a balcony, not that this is an advantage to anyone suffering from
seasickness. Clara says there’s nothing worse than seeing the horizon dip up
and down in time with one’s stomach.

We call in to see her first. It’s an
unpleasant experience. The air is stale and smells of vomit, and clothes lie
strewn about the floor. Clara’s bedding is in a tangle and she takes little
notice of us, merely groaning and rolling over with her face to the wall.

Sukey rushes over to her and shakes her,
“Mommy, mommy wake up. I want to tell you about the Playroom.”

Clara moans again. “Take her next door,
please Merry. I feel like death.”

I coax Sukey away, and lead her to the
vanity unit to brush her hair and wash her face.

“Pick up Bunnylugs, Sukey, and bring him
with you. You can have your afternoon rest in my cabin with Kate.”

The cabin I share with Kate is not quite
as bad. Kate has at least managed to make it to the bathroom each time she’s
been sick. She’s sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows, pale but
aware.

“Are you feeling poorly, Kate?” asks
Sukey, going over to her and climbing up onto her bed.

Kate gives a faint smile. “I’m feeling
much better, thanks love. Have you come to have your rest with me?”

I pick Sukey up off the bed, and lay her
down with Bunnylugs on mine, tucking them up in a loose coverlet. “Now you stay
here and keep Kate company for a bit while I go and look after your mother.”

The good child turns over obediently.
She’s soon fast asleep after all the excitement of a new environment and her
new friends.

“Kate, I’ll be back. I must go and look
after Clara. She’s in a bad way.”

“Do that and then come and talk to me.
I’m better, over the worst of it, but don’t feel strong enough to get up yet,
and I could murder a cup of tea.”

I hurry back to Clara, not looking
forward to the task of cleaning her up, but knowing she needs me. It’s even
worse than when I left a few minutes ago. Clara has struggled out of bed and
made it to the bathroom, but has been sick all over the floor by the toilet
where she has collapsed.

“So sorry,” she says, as I help her to
her feet and support her back to her bed. Her clothing is rank and she’s
bedraggled and unkempt. Undressing her with gentleness, I give her a bed-bath
and pull a clean nightie on over her head and brush out her long blond hair. I
ring the bell for the stewardess and while I wait for her to arrive, I help
Clara over to an armchair where I sit her down and cover her up to keep her
warm.

“You’re so good to me,” she murmurs,
taking hold of my hand and squeezing it.

“You silly. You know how much you have
done for me, taking me in when my parents died and treating me like your
daughter. I’m happy to have a chance to look after you. Just you sit there
quietly while I get your room cleaned up.”

I strip Clara’s bed and when the
stewardess answers my summons, I ask her to remake the bed with fresh sheets,
clean up the bathroom and see if she can find something to dispel the
unpleasant odor. Opening the French doors onto the balcony is out of the
question with the storm raging outside.

While we wait for Jenny, the stewardess,
to finish her work, I hold a damp facecloth to Clara’s brow. “Clara, have you
managed to keep any food or drink down you today?”

Her answer is to clutch her stomach and
begin retching, dry gulping heaves, showing that her stomach is empty.

“You need the doctor. You are dehydrated,
darling Clara. It’s wicked that you are allergic to seasick pills. Kate isn’t
half as ill as you are.”

Clara pulls my hand down from her
forehead and holds it against her cheek. “You’re such a love. If you think so.
I have to confess that I’ve never felt this unwell. It’s not a good start to
our glorious holiday, is it?”

Jenny tucks in the last corner, plumps up
the pillows and turns to look to me for further instructions. “Shall I help you
get Madam to bed?” she asks.

“Please,” I answer, taking hold of
Clara’s right side. Jenny springs to my assistance and together we maneuver
Clara into her bed and pull up the covers.

Jenny fetches her bucket and cleaning
materials from the corridor and gives the bathroom floor a quick clean. Putting
an air freshener down on the nightstand, she inquires if there was anything
else she can do. I ask her to order some beef tea and dry toast from the
kitchen, hoping that Clara will be able to eat and drink a little, but when I
turn back Clara has fallen asleep.

I dim the light, and leave the room to
visit Kate again. Sukey is still fast asleep and Kate is looking better. She
has some color in her cheeks and her demeanor is more relaxed. “How’s that cup
of tea coming along?” she asks.

“Just about to order it,” I say, pressing
the bell for cabin service.

I pull a chair closer to her bed and flop
down, tired from taking care of Clara. “You look much better, Kate. Do you
think you’re going to make it to dinner?”

“Not a hope, but I think I’ll be all
right by tomorrow. I’m definitely on the mend. You’re so lucky that you don’t
get sea sick.”

“In that case, I’ve a favor to ask you—”
I begin.

“I don’t think I’m up to doing much for
you today,” Kate laughs.

“It’s nothing active, as such. With Clara
still so ill, I should stay and babysit Sukey this evening, but I’ve been
invited to dinner. By the Captain, no less.”

“What?” Kate sits up at attention, her
eyes sparkling with renewed interest in life. “You? You’ve actually accepted a
dinner invitation … and from a man. The captain is a man, I suppose?”

“Very much so, possibly too much of a man
for me. I haven’t quite decided whether to go or not. I should really ask Clara
for permission, but she’s too ill.”

Kate rolls her eyes in exasperation.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re eighteen years old for heaven’s sake. I don’t know
what the rules are in the States, but in the UK you can vote at eighteen and
get married without parental consent, let alone accept a dinner invitation in a
public dining room. I know your Aunt Clara means well, but she’s far too
protective of you. Of course, you should go — that’s if you want to. I’ll be
happy to keep an eye on Sukey for you. She can sleep in your bed here with me
and you can spend the night in her bed, next door with Clara.”

I sit down on the end of Kate’s bed and
toy with her coverlet, twisting it round my fingers while I try to sort out my
feelings about the promised evening.

“Well?” prompts Kate, kicking me with her
foot. “Wake up and tell me what he’s like, this captain. And why are you having
second thoughts? Is he gruff and old with a long bushy beard and a peg-leg?”

“Of course not. Quite the opposite. He’s
only thirty, but thirty is still way too old for me. Clara wouldn’t like it, I
know. She does have her reasons for being protective.”

“I suppose she feels she needs to take
extra care of you because you are her niece and her ward. But why do you feel
you need protection from the captain? I take it this isn’t just a kindly older
man thinking you need some companionship because your family is laid low.”

“No, I didn’t get that feeling at all. He
wasn’t fatherly or brotherly. Quite the opposite. There was an instant
connection between us. A current of intimacy that was almost sexual. It made me
tingle in a way I’ve never felt before and I could see that it had taken him by
surprise, too. He exudes power, and I don’t just mean because he’s the captain
of the ship. He overawed me and held me in his thrall. You know it’s not like
me to accept an invitation from a strange man. Just think of all the blind
dates you’ve arranged for me only to have me not turn up.”

Kate laughs. “Don’t remind me! But are
you saying he frightened you?”

“No, it wasn’t that I was frightened of
him, more that I’m frightened of where this could lead. That’s why I’m not sure
whether I should go tonight or not. I was sort of hoping Clara would make the
decision for me.”

“Meredith Roxley! You have to join the
human race at some point in your life. You’re in danger of leaving it till it’s
too late, and dying safe and untouched, but unfulfilled. Take a risk. It’s only
a little one. You might enjoy the evening without anything terrible happening
to you. Anyway, apart from this mesmerizing effect he has on you, what is he
like? You say he’s sexy. Is he good looking?”

“He’s the whole lot: tall, dark and
handsome, what you would call ‘hot’. Plus he’s suave, sophisticated,
articulate, well-mannered—”

“Only you could even consider turning all
that down. You will go, won’t you?”

I smile at the earnest look on Kate’s
face. “That’s the plan. Now what should I wear?”

We settle on an emerald green dress with
a plunging back, not too short, a couple of inches above the knee, and my
killer black stilettos.

By a quarter to nine I’m ready. Gone is
the teenager in jeans and sneakers. In her place stands an elegant young lady —
me! Kate has suggested I wear my hair up. It does make me look more
sophisticated. I think I’ll do, but I’m a little pale. An extra touch of
blusher. Better. Now I have the armor in place all I need to do is quell the
butterflies dive bombing in my stomach, and leave the cabin before I have
second thoughts.

I close the cabin door, square my shoulders,
take a few deep breaths and tell myself I can do it. The stilettos prove a
godsend because I have to concentrate so hard on keeping my balance in the
rocking corridor that my butterflies fold their wings and decamp. I hold on
tightly to the balustrade of the wide sweeping staircase in the six-story high
atrium and make my way with great care down to the number one Grill Room, the classiest
restaurant on the ship. Earlier on today, the captain sent me a message of
confirmation via one of his junior officers to tell me where to meet him. It’s
lucky he did because the
Albion
really is the floating city of the
brochures, larger than any shopping mall I’ve ever been in. I reach the last
step and see before me the wide swing doors leading into the Grill Room. Twenty
steps or so and I’ll be there. I’m only a few paces away from entering a world
of which I know nothing. A world in which there is a man I now realize I fancy
like hell, and who just may fancy me back, but I’m not sure of that yet.

I take a couple of steps swaying a little
on my high heels. At that moment the ship rolls to the side. I teeter and
nearly lose my balance. That does it. I’m not going to hang around making a
fool of myself. Who needs this? Do I really want to get involved with an older man
on a luxury cruise? For heaven’s sake, everyone knows these cruises are famous
for short flings, the proverbial shipboard romance.

I’m not psychologically strong enough to
be starting out on a venture where there is no hope of a happy ending. I take
off my shoes, turn tail and flee back up the stairway to the safety of Kate’s
cabin as fast as I can.

Kate
is not amused
.
She calls me a Cowardy Custard and mocks me for lacking guts. She reminds me
that her motto in life is “No risk, no gain”. She pooh-poohs the excuse I
offer: that I can’t wear high heels in a storm.

Jumping out of bed with a heavy sigh, she
staggers over to my wardrobe and pulls out a pair of soft black ballerinas.
“Here, put these on and get back out there. Go and slay the dragon and don’t
come back before midnight, or I will turn you into a pumpkin.”

Scared as I am, I’m glad of Kate’s
bullying — how can I not make a second attempt when she pushes me out of the
door, giving me a hefty whack on the butt? “Go get ‘em cowgirl!” Anyone who can
muddle up as many fairy tales as Kate deserves to be heeded.

I run down the stairs this time, the flat
pumps making it much easier to keep my balance, and my haste leaves little room
for introspection and fear. This time I do not pause. I sweep straight into the
Grill Room, almost bumping into the ma
ître
d’.

The Captain must have primed him to look
out for me because he asks, “Miss Roxley?” And when I nod he beckons me to
follow him. As I expected the Captain’s Table is right at the far end of the
room and I have to walk up the whole length to reach it. Giving a nervous look
to each side, I see that there are only a handful of passengers brave enough to
face the Michelin five-star cuisine of the Maynard line tonight.

The Captain is talking to the man seated
next him and the long approach gives me time to compare the reality with my
memory of him from this morning. If anything he is even more attractive than I
remember. His companion nudges him and the Captain flicks his eyes my way. A
slow smile spreads across his face as he appraises me. It reaches up to his
eyes and sets them a-sparkle. He likes what he sees.

He stands up to greet me. I like what I
see. Well-built and tall, he looks good in his evening blue serge. The Eton
jacket, stopping short as it does at the waist, delineates his narrow hips,
highlights his taut buttocks and emphasizes the length of his legs. I halt and
stare back. It’s there again, that strange contact, that supersonic zing.
Everything goes silent. The room with all its rich furnishings trembles and
spins round us creating a vortex. We stand at the center, frozen in a moment of
time and space, insulated from the rest of the world. We could stay like this
forever, but the ma
î
tre d’ pulls out a seat for me, jarring
us back into the present.

The Captain steps towards me and places a
polite social kiss on each cheek as if we were long lost friends or relatives.
“Meredith, you made it. I thought you might have succumbed to the sea after
all. I was beginning to worry.”

Mute, I stand there like the na
ï
ve teenager I am.

Seeing my inability to move, he chuckles.
“Come sit down, we won’t bite. Will we, Admiral?” he asks of the old gentleman
to whom he’s been talking.

The Admiral rises from his seat and
shakes the hand I offer. “Enchanted, I’m sure,” he says kindly and sits down
again.

The Captain moves behind me, placing his
hands on my shoulders. I shiver at the electricity of his touch, but that only
makes him grip me more firmly. Nodding to the ma
î
tre
d’ to move away, he shepherds me into my seat, and leans over me to reach for
my napkin which he flips open and spreads across my lap. The fragrance of his
citrussy cologne with its under-note of musk hits me like smelling salts,
bringing me back to reality. We can’t stay in an enchanted vortex for ever.
Life moves on and we have to move with it. I smile my thanks at him, wondering
where life is going to take the two of us.

He puts his thumb in the dimple in my
chin and tips my face towards him. “You look as if you could use a drink. I could
feel you trembling. I hope you aren’t scared of me, Meredith.”

He removes his hand and touches a finger
to the tip of my nose before turning to take his seat again.

“Of course not. It’s just that I’m not
used to settings like this,” I wave my arm to take in the lush splendor of the
number one Grill Room, all marble and gilt. “And I know what an honor it is to
be invited to sit at the Captain’s Table, even if I am a substitute for all
those important people who are feeling too sick to be here.”

“Not that, never a substitute, Meredith.
How could you think that? I asked you dine with me because I thought we would
enjoy each other’s company, and I knew you would be on your own this evening.”

The Admiral looks across at me. “Miss
Roxley, my dear girl, you would be an adornment at any social occasion. And I
love the accent. Where are you from, m’dear? The US or Canada?”

“I’m from Burlington, Vermont, but I live
in Oxford, England, now with my Aunt Clara and my little cousin, Sukey.”

“And they’re unwell?”

“Very, and my best friend Kate who’s
traveling with us.”

“Forgive an old man’s impertinence,
m’dear, but do you come from a family of independent means? Four people on our
wonderful
MV Albion
must knock a large hole in anyone’s pocket.”

The Captain turns back from the wine
steward. “I think I can answer that if Merry allows?” And he looks at me for
permission. I must look surprised at his intervention for he adds, “I already
knew you were from Burlington from your passport, but I’m a nosey parker and
did a search this afternoon.”

Far from being intrusive, I find his
interest in my affairs reassuring, even flattering, pleasantly so.

He continues. “Merry’s family is one of
the two top maple syrup producers in Vermont. But that is the limit of my
knowledge. I don’t know why Merry lives in England. Perhaps she’ll tell us.” He
raises his eyebrows at me. “I have to admit that I am curious about that.”

I give a small shrug. “My aunt isn’t just
wealthy. She’s a professor of American History at one of the Oxford colleges.”

My answer seems to satisfy them both for
the Captain sits back in his chair, and the Admiral brightens up. “I look
forward to meeting her when she’s better. As military advisor to the captain
here, American History, especially naval history, is a hobby of mine. Maybe,
the Captain will invite you all to be permanent guests at his table, hey
Captain?”

“Merry’s aunt is much too young for you,
Admiral,” is the Captain’s reply. “She’s about the same age as I am.”

The wine steward appears at my side and
places a glass in front of me. The Captain smiles at me, “I ordered a sherry
for you, Meredith. It matches your eyes. Do you know you have eyes the color of
oloroso
?”

“No one’s ever said that to me, but
Sukey’s always make me think of sherry, and people often think we’re sisters.”

The Admiral gets up from the table and
tosses his napkin down. “I think I’ll go and find somewhere I can smoke a
cigar. Enjoy the rest of your dinner, Meredith.”

I sip my sherry and feel some of my
nervousness depart. Putting the glass down, I catch the Captain watching me.
“Better?” he asks and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

I nod.

“I’ll order for us, if that’s all right
with you, and then I’ll tell you about the rest of my research today.”

While he beckons our table waiter over
and gives the order, I scan the room to get some idea of my fellow passengers
for the trip to Fremantle, on Australia’s south-western coast. There we are due
to turn round and head back to Europe via the Cape of Good Hope and South
Africa. It doesn’t look promising. Of the forty or so diners, many are in their
golden age, the rest being in their thirties or forties. Still, there’s always
good old Kate.

The captain knocks my knee with his to
bring my attention back to him. “You look so miserable. Shall I put your mind
at rest and tell you what I found out from the passenger list?”

I sigh. “I hope it’s good news.”

“There are quite a few young things on
board, from eighteen to twenty-five. You’ll meet them tomorrow night at the
Singles night.”

“So you think I’m a young thing, do you
Captain?” I ask, astonished to find myself flirting with him.

“Well, aren’t you? Eighteen is so young
and fresh. You have the whole world before you.”

“So everyone keeps telling me. I feel as
if this voyage is a giant portal between childhood and maturity. A chunk of
space and time in which I can make the transition, but I’m not sure I’m quite
ready for it.”

“You’ll do fine, Meredith. I knew the
moment I met you that you’re a special person. That you’ll go far in whatever
you choose to do.”

The waiter serves our first course and
leaves.

“Hope you like oysters,” the captain
says. He points towards the dark roiling swell beyond the windows. “It’s hard
to believe that they come from the edges of the very ocean we’re sailing over,
from the coast of France.”

I’m not against eating oysters. I have
just never had the opportunity before. Not knowing quite how to tackle them, I
wait to see what the Captain will do. I try to copy him, but I can’t get the
darned thing to come off the shell. He makes it look so easy. I don’t want to
make a mess so I wait quietly.

It doesn’t take him long to notice that I
have given up the struggle. “Here, let me.” He draws my plate towards him. “You
have to cut through the foot which holds the oyster onto the shell — see! Then,
down the hatch like this,” he says, spearing the critter with his fork and
tossing it back.

He prepares a second one and holds it up
for me to eat. It slips down my throat. It’s a strange sensation, but so is
having the one-on-one attention of the sexiest man on our floating world. It
will be different once everyone on board recovers and he has to carry out his
social duties, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

We chat easily through our dinner and
never once do our eyes stray from each other. Encouraged by his interest, I
don’t feel I have to dumb myself down. I tell him of my plans to read Economics
at Oxford. He thinks it a splendid idea, and tells me he has an honors degree
in Navigation and Maritime Studies from Plymouth University.

“The family’s fast-tracking me to a
position on the board of Maynard Lines,” he adds, the trace of a rueful smile
flitting across his face.

“You don’t seem a hundred per cent happy
about that.”

“I am and I’m not. I love the sea, but I
have an equal passion for horses. The only ones I get to see in this profession
are the white horses of the ocean. However, I made a commitment to the family
to stick it out for ten years.”

“And then what?”

“Can’t tell. But there’s always my
brother, Mike, waiting in the wings to take over should I falter.”

The ma
î
tre
d’ appears at the Captain’s side. “Captain, everyone’s leaving. Would you like
coffee served in your cabin?”

We’ve been talking for hours. All around
us the staff are dimming the lights and laying the tables for breakfast.

“Meredith? Coffee in my cabin?” the
Captain asks. “I could show you our route on the sea charts I have there.”

For a moment I’m tempted to accept the
lure, but then I notice his eyes twinkling. He’s teasing me and is well aware
of the cheesiness of his allusion to the etchings seduction routine. I decline,
saying I need to check on Clara. I think my refusal gains me a couple of
brownie points for spotting his teasing and for the grace of my answer.

“Thank you, Pierre,” he says to the ma
î
tre d’. “Coffee for one, but give it
twenty minutes. I’ll see this young lady home first.”

Pushing back his chair and standing up,
he holds out his hand to help me from mine, and gathers me in to his side.
Letting go of my hand, he slides his arm round my waist and steers me towards
the door. We cross the atrium to the bank of elevators where one is standing
waiting. He guides me in and follows me before pushing the button to close the
doors. I have to confess that inexperienced as I am in practice, I have read
many a clich
é
d scene of hot erotic elevator sex. Do I
entertain the possibility? Of course, I do. Nanosecond fantasies flit across my
mind as I move into the corner and turn to face the Captain, but he is the
perfect gentleman, keeping his distance and leaning against the opposite wall.
That doesn’t stop him skimming his gaze all the way down to my feet and ever so
slowly stroking his way up again until he reaches my eyes. He holds them with
his own throughout the six-story ascent, asking silent questions of me that I
am too inexperienced to answer.

When the elevator comes to its stop, he
pushes himself off from the wall, takes a couple of steps towards me and
reaches for my hand which he cradles tight against his chest. “Meredith Roxley,
you are bad news for me. You know that, don’t you? Come, let’s get you to your
cabin before I do something I shall be sorry for tomorrow.”

Keeping hold of my hand, he draws me out
and down the long corridor. We walk hand-in-hand all the way, only breaking
apart when we meet someone coming toward us. It seems so right. I’m not
uncomfortable. I don’t feel threatened. Maybe I’m changing, shrugging off the
past, growing up. He makes me feel safe.