Staverton (13 page)

“A little.” Gwen shrugged. We drank the juice in silence for a few moments, before Gwen turned to me. “Caroline doesn’t approve of me. You might want to avoid telling her you came here today.”

I frowned. “She won’t mind.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “When Malcolm and I first came here, I tried to be friendly, but she wasn’t interested. I guess it’s a weird situation. I’m not that much older than you and Caroline, but Malcolm is the same age as her parents.”

I said nothing, but watched Gwen trail a finger through the beads of condensation on her glass. Of course, I had noticed the age difference, but I didn’t want to appear rude by making a comment. Finally I said, “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

Gwen nodded. I tried to steer the conversation away from Caroline, and we talked about my plans for university.

“I wish I’d gone,” Gwen said. “I was smart enough, even got offered a scholarship, but I met Malcolm... and then we moved here.”

“You could still do it.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There are not many universities around here.”

“What about a distance learning course?”

Gwen turned the wedding ring on her finger and stared down at her lap. “I think I’ve left it too late. What would I study?”

“There are loads of courses. There’s a website we could look at if you want.”

Indecision played over Gwen’s face, then she broke into a smile. “Can’t hurt to look, right?”

After that, every time Caroline had a piano lesson, I would walk to Gwen’s house. We looked up distance learning courses and made lists of the things Gwen was most interested in. On Friday, we made a start on Gwen’s application.

The application form required a page written by the applicant, describing his or her skills and abilities. Gwen struggled to find the right words.

“Look at this sentence,” Gwen said, thrusting the paper at me. “It makes me sound conceited.”

I reread the whole paragraph. “No, it doesn’t. Besides, you are supposed to be selling yourself to them. You have to point out your strengths.”

Gwen flung down her pen. “I didn’t realise it would be this hard.” She looked at her watch. “You’d better get back. Caroline’s lesson will be finished soon.”

I hadn’t told Caroline about my trips to see Gwen. I did feel a bit guilty, but Caroline had been so moody lately, I didn’t want to set her off again.

“I could stay and help you finish this.”

“No. It’s all right. I’ll leave it until Monday. The closing date isn’t until Christmas, so I have loads of time to get it right.”

Chapter 18

The weekend surprise Angela planned for us was a sailing trip on Malcolm’s boat. Caroline had gotten over her mood, at least she had until she found out she would be stuck on a boat all day with Gwen and Malcolm.

“What do you have against them?” I asked. “It’s nice of them to invite us.”

We all gathered at the marina, and Caroline and I sat on a wall, a little apart from everyone else.

“They are so boring, and Gwen’s going to be all over the men.” Caroline looked over her shoulder at the boat and sighed.

The white boat gleamed in the morning sun, the metal rails were highly polished. Malcolm was on deck, dressed in a pair of shorts, long socks, a blue blazer and a funny little hat I guessed he wore to make him look like a captain. He rushed around the deck like a kid at Christmas, checking things and grinning.

“He’s all right,” I said. “And we get to sunbathe on a yacht.”

“It’s hardly a yacht.”

“Oh come on, we can still sunbathe on deck, we can pretend it is a small yacht. Very St. Tropez.” I pulled a face to make Caroline laugh.

Angela called us over to board. She climbed aboard first, followed by Lawrence and Michael. Jake hadn’t been able to come.

Michael stood on deck and offered his hand to Caroline, and then to me to help us aboard. “Looks a little choppy today,” he said, and I looked down at the water. It looked perfectly calm to me.

“I mean out there,” he said and nodded in the direction of the open sea.

Malcolm used the engine to get the boat out of the harbour. The vibrations made me feel a bit queasy, so I sat down on the edge of one of the rails. I looked down at the sea as the boat cut its way through the waves, sunlight reflected from the water danced on the side of the boat.

It was the perfect day for my first sailing trip. Everything looked so fresh and clean. I hoped I’d start to feel better after Malcolm cut the engines.

Once we were away from the harbour mouth, Malcolm did turn off the engine, but I didn’t feel better, if anything, I started to feel worse. The boat lifted with each wave and then sank back, then lifted again. My stomach did the same thing. Up and down. There was no end to it.

Everyone else seemed to have a job to do, bustling about, tying ropes, shouting to one another, even Caroline. I stayed in my original seat and lowered my head into my hands. I swallowed constantly, trying to fight the nausea.

Despite his role as captain, Malcolm was the first to notice I wasn’t feeling well. He sat beside me as the wind whipped the boat along.

“Oh dear, Lucy, you look like you’re suffering from a touch of sea sickness.”

I nodded, I didn’t trust myself to speak as I could feel a lump in my throat.

“It happens to the best of us. If you’re sick, just put your head over the side.”

I looked up, mortified, imagining everyone watching me, hearing me retch, splattering the pristine white boat with vomit.

He chuckled at my expression. “I used to get seasick as a boy. I was often sick, but I found I felt a bit better afterwards. I got my sea legs eventually, and you will too.”

I focused on a spot on the rail in front of me, breathing deeply. “I feel terrible,” I managed to say.

Malcolm patted me on the knee. “We’ll keep our speed down, that might help.”

After Malcolm left my side, Caroline wandered over. “God, that woman is so annoying. Have you seen what she is wearing?”

“Yeah.”

When I boarded the boat and said hello to Gwen, I noticed what she was wearing: a tight white polo shirt and bottom skimming white shorts. To be fair, Caroline and I wore similar outfits, but with Gwen’s curves the clothes looked almost indecent.

“You okay? You look pale.”

I shook my head.

“Great, you’re seasick, aren’t you?” She looked over the side of the boat. “It isn’t even all that rough today.”

I didn’t answer.

“Well, we will be out another couple of hours before we stop at Maidenworth for lunch, then it will be another couple of hours back. Do you think you’ll last that long?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

Caroline sighed and walked over to her mother.

To my absolute horror, Michael came and crouched down in front of me. His hard features were softened with concern, but he was the last person I wanted to see. I must look green. Knowing my luck, I’d throw up all over his shoes.

He put one hand on my shoulder and rubbed my back. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

He pushed my hair back from my face. “Do you want to go back?”

My stomach gave the answer. It churned violently, and I knew I was going to throw up. I moved away from him and leaned over the rail just in time, and I vomited over the side of the boat.

I felt too awful to feel embarrassed at that point, but the humiliation didn’t stay away for long. I heard Angela mutter “Christ” behind me.

Angela fussed over me, and when I didn’t feel in imminent danger of being sick again, I allowed Angela to lead me down into the galley of the boat.

Angela made me lay back across two seats and placed a cool towel on my brow. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the rise and fall of the boat.

Malcolm came down the steps into the galley. “How’s the patient?”

“Not too good,” Angela said.

They discussed what to do as if I wasn’t there, which was fine by me. I needed all my energy focused on not vomiting again.

A few minutes later, Angela was back at my side. “Another fifteen minutes, Lucy. We’re going to stop off at Chillington and get you back on dry land. Then the rest of them can continue on to Maidenworth, and I’ll get you back home.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to spoil your day. I could get the bus back.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m going to pop back on deck, will you be okay?”

I nodded. I didn’t think there was anything left in my stomach now anyway.

It may have only been fifteen minutes, but it felt like an hour before Caroline bounded down the stairs. “We’re here, Lucy.”

Thank God. My head swam as I sat up, and my legs felt like jelly when I stood, but I made it up on deck.

“Right then,” Angela said. “I’ll get Lucy home. Thank you for this morning, Malcolm.”

I could see the hard floor of the marina. I walked closer to the rail and watched Malcolm secure the boat to the dock. I wanted to get off as quickly as possible. Michael seemed to sense that and took my hand and guided me off the boat and onto dry land.

I could have knelt down and kissed the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, addressing them all. “I didn’t want to ruin your day. I’ll be fine now, you can carry on with your trip. I’ll get the bus.”

“And I’ll go with you,” Caroline said.

Angela frowned. “There isn’t a bus that goes to Staverton. There’s a bus that stops at the train station, but then you’d have to walk for miles to the house. It’s okay, we can come sailing another day.”

“My bike’s parked up at the gallery,” Michael said. “I could catch the bus with Lucy to the train station and then take her back on the bike. That’s if you don’t mind motorbikes, Lucy?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Have you got a spare helmet?” Angela asked.

“Yes.”

“What about me?” Caroline said.

Michael smiled. “Sorry, Caro. Don’t think three of us would fit on the bike.”

Angela stepped off the boat and spoke to me in a low voice. “Lucy, what would you prefer to do, really? The bike might not be a good idea if you’re feeling ill, and I’m pretty sure Caroline would rather we all went home now anyway.”

“I’d feel awful if everyone’s day was ruined because of me, and I am starting to feel better already. By the time I’ve caught the bus, I’ll be fine.”

Angela nodded and went to speak to Michael. As Angela issued instructions, Caroline pouted and sat on the deck of the boat with her arms crossed.

Michael and I waved to the others on the boat as it pulled away.

“It’s so good to be on dry land again. I can’t tell you how good it feels,” I said.

Michael laughed. “I can see that. You’re starting to look better already. Fancy a walk around the town before we get the bus?”

I thought that would be a good idea. The salty air was refreshing, and with each step, I felt better.

We walked around the cobbled streets in Chillington, looking in the windows of little shops that sold postcards and fudge. When we came to a small gallery, I asked Michael if he minded if we went in. He agreed and we wandered around, looking at work by local artists.

I stopped in front of one seascape. There was no label on the canvas. Perhaps, it was a newly acquired painting. There was something intriguing about it. The colours were beautiful, but something else caught my interest, something in the way the artist managed to convey the strength and violence of the sea, despite the water looking calm on the surface.

“Do you like that one?” Michael leaned over, so close I could feel his breath on my neck, and I shivered.

“Yes. I wonder how much it is.” Not that I could afford it, I was supposed to be saving for university.

“What do you like about it?”

I shrugged. “The colours, but I don’t like the way the artist has handled the perspective. When I look at it, I feel as if I’m perched on top of that cliff, and I’m going to tumble into the sea.”

Michael looked at me for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“What?”

Michael couldn’t answer, he was laughing so much he had to leave the shop and go outside.

I followed him out of the shop, feeling a little hurt that he was laughing at me. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he said, still grinning. “I offer to escort you home, and when I ask what you like about my painting you start talking about its faults.”

“It’s yours?”

Michael nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s amazing,” I said. Out of all the paintings in the gallery I thought that had been the best.

“Oh, you can’t backtrack now. You’ve already told me what you really think.”

“No I’m serious. It’s brilliant. I’d love to have your talent.”

“Sure, whatever you say. I think you’re going to be an art critic. Man, you are harsh.”

I gave up, I knew he was teasing. It was nice to see him smile when he usually spent so much time looking angry at everyone.

“Do you really want to work in the art world when you finish uni?” Michael asked.

I nodded. “I want to study history of art, and afterwards, get a job related to art. I can’t paint, but I’d still like to be involved somehow.” I looked back at the gallery. “I’d love to own a place like that.”

Michael looked surprised, and we turned and strolled along the street, stepping in the road to avoid a passing crowd of tourists.

“So has critiquing my work built up your appetite? We could go and get some lunch if you’re feeling better?”

We ate seafood for lunch, prawns and clams with crusty fresh bread, at a small café facing the sea front. I told him a little about Freddie and how quiet life is in that area of Scotland.

“You sound as if you’ve come to like staying up there during the holidays,” he said.

“Holidays, yes, but it’s not really where I would like to live permanently. I mean Freddie’s great, he really is, but there is nothing much to do there.” I looked up. “But you’d love it, at least for a little while. The landscape would be an amazing subject to paint.”

He poured us more water from the bottle the waitress had left on the table. “I’d like to do that, just take off in my car and travel around, stopping at places that I’d like to paint.”

“You could do it once you’ve finished your degree next year. Have a kind of gap year.”