Chapter 9

[girlyswot]

June came and Nicola rounded Cape Horn, thrilling at the sight of dozens of albatrosses flying overhead, her thoughts inevitably drawn back two hundred years to Hornblower, rounding the Cape with Lady Barbara on board.  She sailed in sight of the coast for a few days, temporarily reluctant to be alone with the sea again.

 

Marking off the days on her ship's log she was startled to discover that it would be her birthday in two days time.  Her birthday and Lawrie's.  Suddenly it was enormously important that she should speak to Lawrie.  At least say Happy Birthday.  They'd always had birthdays together before and she knew exactly how Lawrie'd be feeling about this one.  How she, Nicola, was feeling too, come to that.  She looked urgently at her chart, working out the nearest likely landfall and ran up to change course.  Argentina.  She'd no local money of course, not having planned to stop anywhere until she reached America.  But prob they'd take US dollars.  Or change them.  Or something.  And if all else failed she s'posed she'd be able to reverse the charges.  Though goodness knows what that would cost Lawrie.

 

She decided she'd better not heave to that night but sailed on through, exhausted but exhilarated.  She'd forgotten what it was like to have a deadline, a purpose other than survival.  She reached Puerto Santa Cruz at around nine o'clock in the morning, local time.  Hastily, Nicola tried to calculate what time it would be in London.  Behind or ahead?  About one o'clock she worked out.  She wondered whether Lal would be in for lunch and decided it wasn't worth risking it.  Besides, it'd probably take her a while to get her mooring and find a phone she could use.

 

The harbour master spoke a little English.  Enough, when he'd realised Nick was sailing single-handed, to offer her a decent mooring for the day and assure her that she was welcome to use the telephone in the club house.  She showed him her dollars and he nodded enthusiastically.

'Si, si.  US dollars.  No problem.  You telephone here.'  Nicola thanked him and headed towards the club house.

Realising that she'd still several hours to wait, Nicola ordered a coffee and some breakfast and made herself comfortable in the corner.  An hour later, she enquired about bathrooms.  The barman pointed out a door which, she discovered, concealed not only toilets but an extremely inviting shower which Nicola eyed speculatively.

Returning to the bar, she pointed and made appropriate signs.  The man nodded and signalled another attendant who went to fetch an enormous white fluffy towel.

'Thank you!'  Nicola went off to enjoy herself.  'What a good birthday,' she giggled.  'Hot shower and everything.'

Reappearing half an hour later, hot and clean, hair flapping around her shoulders she found that she was no longer the only customer.  A tall, thin man stood in the doorway, slightly silhouetted by the morning sunshine behind him.

'Patrick!' she exclaimed.

The man came forward, looking bewildered.  Of course it wasn't him.  His eyes were too dark and his hair curled a little too much.  But his smile reminded her so much of Patrick's that her heart bumped involuntarily.

'No.  Miguel.'

'I'm sorry.  For a moment I thought you were… someone else.  Stupid.  Even Patrick wouldn't have come all this way, just for my birthday.  Besides,' she remembered foolishly, 'he couldn't possibly know I'd be here.'  Suddenly realising the man was still looking at her, increasingly confused, she broke off.

'You are English?'

She nodded.

'And it is your birthday?'

She nodded again.

'It is a long way to come for a shower.'  He sounded serious but Nicola noticed his lips twitching and thought his eyes were laughing.

'I was quite desperate.'

'Were you?  When did you last have a shower?'

Nicola thought.  'February.'  She grinned.

'You are on a sailing trip?'

'Yes.  Round the world.'

He looked impressed.  'Alone?'

'Yes.'

'And today it is your birthday so you have a shower.'

'Yes.  Well, sort of.  I came to telephone, really.  It's my sister's birthday, too.  My twin.  But it's too early.  I can't risk telephoning when she's out so I'm waiting until two o'clock.  I thought a shower would help pass the time.'

'I see.   And will you set sail again as soon as you have telephoned?'

'I don't know.  I expect so.  I might buy a few provisions, I s'pose.  Birthday treat.'

He looked at her for a minute.  'Will you allow me to join you while you wait to telephone?  Perhaps I might buy you lunch?  As a present?  For your birthday.'

'Oh!'  Nicola was taken aback.  But, she reasoned, it'd be months before she had lunch with anyone else.  And she liked him.  If only he didn't remind her so much of Patrick that it hurt, she wouldn't have hesitated.  But…  'Yes.  I'd like that.  Thank you.'

 

They went to a small restaurant two streets away from the harbour.  Nicola chose fish soup and bread and a spicy stew with potatoes.  Miguel ordered wine.

'It's your birthday,' he cajoled when Nicola protested.  But she only took a few sips, suddenly terrified, wondering if she'd been a complete fool to come out with a total stranger who knew she was completely on her own.

The meal was delicious.  All the more so to one who'd lived on baked beans and corned beef for months.  Halfway through the stew Nicola felt so full she thought she'd never be able to eat again.

'I'm so sorry.  Such a waste.'  He shrugged and signalled to the waiter to take it away.

'Oh!  It's two o'clock.  I must go and telephone.  Thank you so much.  It's been such a treat.'

'My pleasure.'

 

'Lawrie?  Lal, is that you?'

'Yes.  Who… Nick?'

'Happy birthday.'

'And you.  Where are you?'

'Argentina.  Puerto Santa Cruz.  In the club house.'

'Gosh.  Oh Nick, it's so miserable here.  When are you coming home?'

'I don’t know.   August, maybe.  Or September.  I'll try and telephone again.  What are you doing tonight?'

'Going to the theatre.  Mum's coming down and taking me and Gin and Binks to dinner and then to see Hamlet.'

'Send them my love.'

'Yes.  Nick?'

'Mmm?'

'You are coming home, aren't you?'

'Of course!  Lal, you are an idiot.  Look I'd better go.  Goodness knows how much this is costing.  Next year…'

'Yes, next year…'

 

So that was done.  Nicola thought of her twin in London, getting ready to go out with the family.  All of a sudden she felt dreadfully homesick.  She ordered a gin and tonic from the bar and sat, brooding over it, reluctant to return to Windfall just yet.  'I wonder…' she thought.  Turning, she called the barman over.

'The man who was here before.  Who took me to lunch.  Miguel.  Do you know him?'

'Si, I know him.  Miguel Alvarez.  He has a very fine yacht.'

'Do you know where I might find him?  Now?'

The barman looked at her knowingly and she felt herself blush.

'Siesta?  He'll be at home.  You could telephone.'

'Can you tell me the number?'

He handed her a card.  Nicola blushed again, seeing the note Miguel had scribbled on it.  'Just in case you want to keep celebrating…call me.  M.'  But she took the phone and punched in the number.

'Hello Nicola.'

'Hullo.'

'So?'

'So I thought, perhaps, I might not leave until tomorrow.  Could I… could you… I mean, are you doing anything tonight?'

She could hear him grinning at her.

'Sure.  We'll celebrate in style.  I'll pick you up from the club in an hour.'  He hung up.

 

He arrived to find Nicola in a state of consternation.

'We can't go out!  I'm sorry, I forgot.'

'What is it?'

'I haven't anything to wear!  I mean it,' she insisted as he began to laugh.  'These are the cleanest, smartest things I've got.'  She indicated her grubby khaki shorts, white teeshirt and boat shoes.

'Come on.  My treat, remember.'

'But…'

'We're going shopping.'

'But you can't!  I mean…'  She stopped, going bright red.  'I don't want you to think that…'

'Hey, it is all right.  I like you.  I thought you would enjoy dinner and perhaps dancing to celebrate the birthday.  Nothing else, I promise.'  He held up his hands and spoke seriously.  'I think you need a little spoiling, yes?'

'Oh well.  Live dangerously!'  She grinned and followed him to the car.

It was enormous fun.  They strolled the back streets and markets of Puerto Santa Cruz.  Miguel pointed to a rail of brightly coloured sarongs for Nicola to inspect.  They selected a bright pink one patterned with flowers and birds.  A pair of white flip flops strung with tiny sea shells were added to the pile. 

'Ah!'  He spotted something and led Nicola through the stalls.  'Here.'  He picked out a large pink flower she couldn't identify and tucked it behind her ear.  'Perfect.'  The went back to the club house for Nicola to change.  Then they strolled around the harbour, out towards the straggling ends of the town.

They ate at a tiny fish restaurant, sitting out on the pavement, looking out to sea.

'It's so different.  Looking at it from here.'

'Don't think about it tonight.  Just enjoy being here.  You are having fun, yes?'

She nodded, smiling, wondering if she should mind that he had tucked her hair behind her ear.

Then they were dancing.  Miguel danced like he was part of the music.  Nicola simply went where he pushed and pulled and felt like she could do anything he asked of her.  It was past two o'clock when Miguel whispered in Nicola's ear.

'Tired?'

Surprised to find she was, she nodded.  'Come on then, I'll walk you back to the boat, yes?'

'Yes.  Thank you.'

They made slow progress but finally Nicola spotted Windfall.  Dear, precious, Windfall, home for so long. 

'I had such a lovely birthday.  Thank you so much.'

He smiled down at her.

'My pleasure, Nicola.'  He tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ear yet again but this time he allowed his hand to trail down her jaw line.  She found herself breathing faster and she couldn't see anything except his dark, dark eyes.  Her mouth opened as his lips came to meet hers.

'Goodnight, Nicola.'  He turned, leaving her on the jetty, watching him walk away.