She was right about the wind. It would have been fine if she had come with me, but single-handed the Flying Dutchman I had picked up in lieu of an unpaid bill was quite a handful, more like board-sailing than cruising. I reefed, of course, before slipping from our pontoon and sailing out of the shelter of Gala Figuera, but the wind was funnelling down the length of the harbour approaches, and not much shelter to be had in the lee of the islands. It was very wet as I beat past Villa Carlos and out as far as the big island called Lazareto, and when I went about and freed the main for the run back, we were planing on the break of the waves and every now and then that powerful little dinghy took the bit between her teeth and tried to broach-to.
I was wet and tired by the time I got in. Instead of providing me with the opportunity of thinking things through, it had taken all my concentration just to keep the dinghy upright and avoid capsizing. Ramon was waiting for me with a whole string of queries, mostly about matters that Soo would normally have dealt with, and there was the mail. I hadn't dealt with the day's mail yet and I loathed typing letters. 'There is a telephone call.' He was hovering over me as I stripped and towelled myself down. 'About the Santa Maria.''You deal with it,' I said. 'You know the charter terms.'
'He don't want a charter.'
'You mean he wants to buy her…' I had been trying to sell the Santa Mariafor over a year now.
But Ramon shook his head. 'He already have a boat.'
I paused in the act of stepping into a dry pair of trousers. Then what the hell does he want? Who is he?'
'Senor Florez. He want you to phone him.'
Apparently Florez was acting for the owner of a catamaran lying at the commercial dock, in the area reserved for larger yachts and those on passage. 'He want to make some sort of exchange,' Ramon added.
A big cat had come in that morning. I had seen it running in under jib alone when I was talking to Petra, dark blue hulls with the paint flaking and a bad scrape along the port side. But she had still looked beautiful and very purposeful, a real thoroughbred.
I zipped up my trousers, pulled on a light sweater, Ramon still standing there and my mind in a whirl. The fishing boat wasn't worth much, not here in Menorca, and running it for charter was a lot of work with very little in it for us. It had never really paid its way. 'How big is this cat?'
Ramon shrugged. 'You phone Senor Florez, then he tell you everything you want to know.'
But when I rang Florez, all he said was, 'Come and see it for yourself.' He and the owner would be on board that evening. 'Then we talk about it, eh? I have a very good deal for you, Mr Steele.' And he had put the phone down, leaving me with all my questions unanswered and the deal not specified.
I would like to have driven over to the commercial dock right away. Looking through the yachting magazines, I had often thought what a perfect charter vehicle a big cat would be, and now I was being offered one, right here in Mahon. But the phone began ringing and I couldn't get away. There were two calls from England, as well as letters. Spring was in the air and people suddenly anxious to be sure their boats or their villas would be ready for the holidays.
I worked right through lunch, sending Ramon out to the restaurant at the corner for the fish-and-rice dish they often put up for us when Soo was too busy to Cook anything for herself. It was shellfish this time, arroz de marisco,with calamarestentacles finely chopped to give it body. All the time I was eating, and afterwards, I kept thinking about that catamaran, wondering what it would be like, what condition it would be in, what accommodation it would have, the navigation equipment and the state of the sails, excitement building though I knew bloody well the Mediterranean was a graveyard of shattered dreams.
It was late afternoon before I finally caught up with the office work and then it was time to visit the hospital again. I didn't mention the catamaran to Soo, even though I found her sitting up in bed reading a Spanish novel she had been lent. She looked much better, the dark patches under her eyes almost gone, some of the old sparkle back and her face more animated. The doctor had said she would be fit to leave the following day. 'Eleven o'clock. Will that be all right? Can you come for me then?'
I said 'Of course', and then she talked for a bit, about the friends who had been to visit her, the gossip they had passed on, and particularly about the Renatos' Red Cross party in the Quarries. 'What will you say when you speak at the opening of that Albufera development? You never told me the Alcalde had asked you. Am I invited?'
'I imagine so.'
'But he didn't ask me, did he?'
'I'm sure he will. When they send out the official invitations.'
She was silent then and I feared she was going into one of her sulky moods. But after a moment she brightened and began asking questions about the business — how Lennie was getting on with the villa out at Binicalaf, whether the equipment for the extra bathroom in another of the villas in our care had been flown in yet, had I remembered about completing the forms for customs clearance, and the accounts to settle with two of our suppliers. 'You know, I'm really looking forward to being back. Lying here with nothing to do but read and listen to the radio and think.' And she added darkly, 'I've had all the time in the world to think these past few days.' And almost without a pause: 'Did Gareth come and see you before he left? No, of course — I remember. He said it was bad enough seeing me, feeling it was his fault I'd lost the child, and though I told him I might have lost it anyway, he still said he couldn't face you. You told him it was his fault. I have a distinct memory of that. Why the hell didn't you stay with her?you shouted at him, and accusing him like that Her voice trailed away. Then suddenly she said, 'Did you know, he came up through the lower deck — Ganges,Dartmouth, the Fleet Board. Just like Papa. It makes a difference, doesn't it? You're more vulnerable then. Everything that bit harder. No admiral ever came up through the lower deck that I can remember. And it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody's fault.' Tears welled. I went to comfort her, but she pushed me away. 'I know what you think. And you're probably right. I'll never have a child now.'
I didn't know what to say. Life doesn't make sense. There was Petra who didn't want a child, but would almost certainly have no difficulty if she did find herself with a bun in the oven. And Soo's mother, she had had five, one every two years, regular as clockwork. Then, being a devout Catholic, she must have gone on strike. That was probably why Soo and her father had been so close.
It was almost dark by the time I left the hospital and cut down the little hairpinned gut that led to the waterfront. I could see the catamaran before I had even parked the car, a broad cabin top spanning the whole width of the twin hulls, her single mast standing very tall and overtopping the dock sheds. She was moored outside of a big yawl, and when I asked permission to cross over to the catamaran, an American in a blue jersey, half-glasses perched on his nose, poked his head out of the doghouse. 'Sure. But there's nobody on board. They're over at the cafe-bar across the road.'
I asked him where he was from and he said, 'Newport, Rhode Island, via Gibraltar and Ibiza.'
I swung my leg over his guardrails, crossed the foredeck to stand by the shrouds looking down on the long, slim line of the two hulls, their bows poking out from the broad foredeck platform, a safety net slung between them.
'Good trip,' he went on. 'We made it across the ditch in just over sixteen days, almost all of it under sail.'
A woman's head appeared in the hatch, grey-haired like the man. That cat belong to you?' she asked.