Follow a Star (10 page)

Several thousand tons of grey metal moved steadily towards them, determinedly pushing the waves aside. In comparison
Lucille
was beginning to feel about as robust as a snail in a bus lane. Some very unwelcome pictures of shattered boats and limbs flooded her imagination. So much for the Mars Bars; knowing her luck she’d probably break both arms on the way down and not be able to unwrap one anyway.

‘Is it going to hit us?’ she asked, hoping that Bill would laugh and tell her not to be such a silly girl; couldn’t she see it was
miles
away? But Bill remained silent, keeping his eye on the huge great monster slicing almost malevolently through the water towards them.

‘Is it—’

‘I heard you,’ Bill snapped tersely. ‘Just get ready.’

Ready for what? Ready to fall cleanly over the side only to be shredded by the prop shaft of the container vessel? Ready to be horribly mangled, caught between steel and wood like a clove of garlic on a chopping board? Ready to drift for days in her life jacket and finally be washed up on some distant shore where they’d shake their heads and say ‘Poor girl, if only she’d been able to get at her Mars Bar.’ How could she get ready to die when she hadn’t had sex for weeks? She was practically a virgin again. She hadn’t even had time to be kissed by Bill!

‘Bill! Kiss me, Bill!’

He shot her a look of sheer exasperation. ‘May, this is no time to do your Nelson impression. If you think I’m letting go of anything until this thing’s gone past you’ve got to be joking.’

‘You did say “gone past”, didn’t you?’

Bill grinned. ‘Just look, will you? But make sure you’re braced until we’re clear of the wash.’

Sure enough the massive stern was gliding slowly by, close enough to make out a few tiny faces aboard, but far enough away for
Lucille
to be out of danger. Only when it finally dwindled to bath tub size in the distance did May’s nerves feel convinced. Sinking back into the cockpit she thanked her lucky stars, and anyone else who might have an interest, for her deliverance. She could breathe! Flex her toes and fingers! Feel the sun on her face! Hear Bill saying—

‘What?’

‘I said, about that kiss …’

If only May knew what it had cost him to say that, Bill thought, as his initial relief gave way to guilt and shame as they kept the boat steady so they could take a break.

‘What do you mean it’s not going to happen?’ she said, in a squeal of indignation that was almost ultrasonic.

Bill spread his hands. ‘I’m sorry, May. I just think it’s for the best.’

‘But you
liked
it! If that ship hadn’t come along …’

He had liked it. That was the trouble. All those deliciously soft curves moulding against him were almost a temptation too far. ‘And that’s another thing,’ he told her, struggling to regain control of himself. ‘We could very easily have been killed if you hadn’t looked up in time. I’m afraid the high sea is no place for high jinks.’

‘Huh! Tell that to the Marines!’ May’s amber eyes sent gold daggers at him.

‘Don’t sulk, May,’ he pleaded. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

‘And
I
don’t suit
you
,’ she harrumphed, folding her arms. ‘Well, honestly – I always thought that the expression about a ship coming in meant that something nice was about to happen.’

‘Not when it’s coming into your side, it isn’t,’ he said, hoping to sound quite stern.

Whatever she was about to say to him was hijacked by the hiccup of laughter, she was trying to pass off as a cough.

‘It really isn’t a laughing matter.’
She
might be able to see the humour in a near-death experience, but
his
emotions were in tatters. He was the skipper, for crying out loud; it was his responsibility to look after
Lucille
and all who sailed in her. A moment of utter madness on his part had almost cost him Cecil’s boat – and May’s life.

‘I can’t believe you turned me down even though we were staring death in the teeth!’ she moaned. ‘I bet you would have kissed me if we’d been floundering around in the wreckage of
Lucille
together. You would have been so pleased to find me, you wouldn’t have wasted time shaking my hand, saying, “there you are.” Unless, of course, I’d fallen on to the propeller in which case it would have been, “there you are, and there you are and over there.”’

Bill shook his head. Shock. That, of course, was the nub of the problem; the only reason May had ended up in his arms in the first place was because she was desperate for comfort and he was the only other living being in sight. Why else would she have turned to him? As for kissing her? ‘It’s my job to get you safely to landfall, not to snog you – quite literally – to within an inch of both our lives.’

‘What a way to go, though,’ May said, not quite meeting his eyes as if she was already having second thoughts about throwing herself at him. Back on dry land, he figured he’d be the kind of guy she’d pass in the street without seeing. Especially if he was mixing concrete or bricklaying. So even if the sight of her breasts rising and falling as her breath steadied was utterly spellbinding, it would be better for both of them if he concentrated on the rise and fall of the waves instead.

As he took another glance at her, May’s shoulders started to shake until she could hold it no longer when what started off as a fit of giggles turned, as he would have predicted, into another outbreak of sobbing.

‘Poor little duck,’ he said, trying to sound brotherly, and using his hands to adjust a sail rather than pulling her into his arms.

‘God!’ She sniffed. ‘No wonder you want to avoid kissing me if you see me as a short, dumpy little thing waddling around splashing water everywhere. I’m sorry about the tears. I expect it’s just an overreaction.’ She sighed, shielding her face with her hand as she peeked up at him. ‘Either that or I’m going quackers.’

‘Oh no, nothing as bad as that.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re just a bit overwrought at the moment.’

‘No shit, Sherlock.’ May dropped her hand and glared at him. ‘There was I thinking it might be connected with the fact that my whole life just flashed before me.’

‘Oh come on,’ he said, hoping to jolly her along, ‘we missed it by miles.’

She frowned. ‘Why do men always say that?’

Bill tweaked the helm. ‘Definitely overwrought,’ he said smugly.

‘On the contrary,’ May began, with a withering look. But whatever she was about to deliver died on her lips as she held his gaze. She started slightly, as if something had surprised her. Her lips opened and her pupils widened into black velvet on gold silk.

‘Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about that kiss?’ she whispered.

‘May, I’m not going to kiss you,’ he insisted quietly.

‘Spoilsport!’ she murmured. ‘Why not?’

Bill sighed. ‘Because it wouldn’t be good for you. And it probably wouldn’t be good for me either.’

Bill was right, of course. Their narrow escape had been a sharp reminder about safety at sea and with
Lucille
facing the challenge of her longest, loneliest passage, it was essential to stay focused on what was going on around them. As wave after lumpy wave rocked the little boat as it battled strong currents around the first headland, May’s head was already aching and her stomach was tight with nausea and apprehension.

From being impatient to get to sea, she now dreaded the prospect of being out of sight of land. Even the hustle and bustle of the busy shipping traffic and dodging seafarers going about their business, delivering cargo and passengers in and out of ports, seemed preferable now to the desolate expanse of the cold North Sea which lay ahead with its ghostly forts and shifting sands.

At least she still had Bill. Or, more accurately, hadn’t had Bill. No wonder she could feel his appalled gaze sliding over her every so often. Probably checking that she was keeping her distance and not about to make another exhibition of herself by jumping all over him. How right he’d been right to warn her about the intensity of small-space living. Clearly that explained her sudden attraction to him.

May scrutinised him as carefully as steering would allow. Great lungfuls of sea air and adrenaline from their near miss must have affected her circulation and pumped her blood straight to her erogenous zones. Good job she wasn’t one of those monkeys with the red bottoms or she might still have some trouble sitting down. Imagine, if Bill hadn’t put up some resistance, she might have thrown him to the deck and impaled herself on him. What a rude thought! What was it about steering that seemed to set her subconscious running wild and free? Was it the somewhat meditative nature of watching the bow of the boat nose through mile upon mile of undulating waves which allowed her imagination to conjure up such lurid imagery?

Surely it couldn’t be anything to do with Bill? She stole another look at the unruly red hair ruffling in the breeze while he went innocently about the boat’s business and tried to dismiss the thought. Perhaps all that sea air would have made any man seem attractive. Yet she’d never felt that way about Aiden. Possibly, she had to admit, because she was always a bit too anxious about pleasing him. Especially in bed, where she always felt her lack of experience let her down. Now, when she’d suddenly seen the attraction of no-holds-barred, swing-from-the-grab-rails sex, Bill wouldn’t play – which was right and proper and better for both of them, she told herself quickly. Fancying Bill was a complete aberration; that rough and ready red-haired look couldn’t have been more of a contrast to Aiden who was so good-looking she always felt quite plain in comparison.

Looking back, her relationship with Aiden was so one-sided it was little wonder she felt so insecure and inhibited. Other women sensed it too, forever elbowing her out of the way after a gig to get closer to him. And who could blame them? He really was jaw-droppingly handsome, so it was hardly surprising she’d been unable to keep him.

‘Why the long face?’ Bill said, catching her off guard.

One, two, three. Damn, she could feel her nose going red. If only she could cry prettily, like Demi Moore in
Ghost
, all sparkly eyed and dewy. Even worse was the fact the more she tried to stop the more she ran with snot and slobber. Bill, to his great credit, was not repulsed, but calmly found her a handkerchief then fixed the helm and backed the sails to slow the boat’s progress. Once it was almost at a standstill, he sat her down and went off to put the kettle on, returning a bit later with a mug of tea and a chocolate biscuit. She couldn’t remember Aiden ever bringing her a cup of tea.

‘There’s sugar in it too,’ he said, to explain the plastic spoon. ‘So give it a stir and drink it, it’ll do you good.’

Nor was Aiden ever that thoughtful.

‘Now, what’s all this about?’ said Bill.

Or so concerned about her feelings. May inhaled slowly. Spilling the story of her love life – ha! – on the ocean waves with no other vessel in sight and only the hiss of the breaking bow wave and the high-pitched mewing of passing seagulls to break the silence was more therapeutic than she could ever have believed. She had friends who spent good money paying people to listen to them. She should at least offer to buy Bill a Chinese takeaway when they struck land for all the money he’d saved her in counselling fees. Not only was he thoughtful and solicitous, he was such a good listener that he’d barely opened his mouth, except to prompt her here and there or to take a sip of his own tea.

Actually, May thought, feeling the first prickles of unease, it was about time Bill
did
say something. Having just disgorged the last two years of her life to him she expected him to make
some
comment. Okay, she’d omitted to tell him the bit most people were interested in, but still. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her after all? Maybe all that time he’d been mentally counting the nautical miles waiting for her to shut up? Maybe he was even asleep? May checked to see if his eyelids were open. He was staring into his empty cup with such a look of distaste that May had a quick look to see if one of them hadn’t washed up properly and he’d found something unpleasant lurking at the bottom.

When he eventually met her gaze May was shocked by how angry he looked. The controlled, silent fury was more intense than any outward expression would have been, and for a terrible moment May was afraid that he was angry with her.

‘I know it’s naïve but at first, I felt it was romantic, having someone there to take care of me,’ she said, trying to excuse herself.

‘That’s not taking care,’ Bill growled, ‘that’s taking control.’

‘He’d promised to be there for me. And I was flattered that he was so interested in me he wanted to accompany me on even the most mundane trips. He told me that nothing was more important than being with me. He wanted to know who my friends were, what they did, he asked about my social networks …’ She shook her head. ‘I was secretly delighted at how jealous he was when an ex-boyfriend, a teenage romance, purely innocent, flirted with me online. I had to sever contact with him which I felt uneasy about, but it seemed a small sacrifice to keep Aiden happy.’

She shrugged, ashamed of how meekly she’d gone along with his demands.

Bill’s face was like thunder, but then he seemed to pull himself together. He reached out and briefly touched her face in a gesture of compassion.

‘I don’t understand why it took you so long to break away,’ he said gently.

May smiled regretfully. ‘I asked myself the same question so many times. I guess I just couldn’t bear the thought of him being on his own.’

Bill’s hand came down on the coaming so hard that even a seagull, deciding whether or not to land on the rear safety rail, squawked and jumped. ‘May! You don’t owe him a damn thing.’

She took the plastic spoon out of her mug and started fiddling with it. Bill was wrong about that, but she’d gone on about herself for quite long enough now.

‘It’s the way I left,’ she admitted. ‘I shouldn’t have done it like that, it was cowardly. But I was afraid that if I didn’t just pack up, he’d find a way to make me stay. I should have phoned him to warn him that I moved out or at least got someone to make sure he was all right. I mean, I know he’s alive and kicking, but he has very few real friends.’

‘Oh you
do
surprise me,’ Bill said with surprising force. He leant forward. ‘May, do you mind if I ask you something?’

‘Ask away,’ she replied, shrugging nervously.

‘Are you quite sure that you’re completely over him?’

‘Quite.’ The plastic spoon she’d been holding snapped in half, making her jump. They both looked at the two pieces and Bill gave a funny little smile.

‘Well,’ he said sadly. ‘Maybe you need more time to think about that one.’

In Ebbesham Cathy Starling was up early since Rick, against the doctor’s better judgement, had left the house before seven to go to work. Since she was awake, she’d use the opportunity to gather her thoughts before meeting Toby at the shop. May was supposed to be in Little Spitmarsh very shortly. Should she ring to prepare her for what might be coming, Cathy wondered, or should she let events take their course? On balance, Cathy was in favour of the second option. May might not be best pleased if she knew, although in time, she’d hopefully appreciate that Cathy’s intervention was for her own good.

Staring at one of Toby’s mood boards, Cathy tried to ignore the pricking of her conscience and stifle the tendrils of guilt wrapping themselves round her heart. During their last phone conversation, it hadn’t escaped her notice that her daughter sounded lighter and freer than she had in months. Until then, Cathy had been convinced she was having a breakdown, but now she wondered if all May had really needed was a break. Whatever the case, May couldn’t afford to drift for much longer; someone had to take charge.

Jazz was the new black, according to Toby who banished her Music for Meditation from the shop. Cathy, beginning to question her actions, tried it now, turning up the volume to let Miles Davis fill the air while she waited to feel calmer. Then her phone started ringing.

‘Toby? I was just thinking about you, listen – can you hear that?’

But instead of getting warm approval, she heard a nervous cough. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly simple explanation, but I thought I’d tell you in case there’s a problem.’