Chapter 3

Easter Sunday, evening.

Supper, anchored in Pyefleet Creek, was stew, out of tins, eaten sitting in the saloon as the forecast rain had arrived. Not that it amounted to much; just a light drizzle, gloom, and a drop in temperature. But the cabin was snug between their body warmth and the heat from the oven, and they comfortably discussed prospects for the next day.

"The wind is likely to back a little," Nadiya commented. "It wouldn't be much fun trying to get into the Crouch. It'd be better to head north-west; either back up the Wallet, or further off-shore in the Swin. Depending on conditions, we'd have the choice of Hamford Water, Harwich Haven, or the Deben. If the Deben, we can probably get showers at the Ferry sailing club..."

"We could probably make it all the way up to Woodbridge," CC put in, "as long as the wind backs enough."

Denise and Nadiya looked at each other. "I vote for the shower," Denise said, "Wherever I get it."

"But," Nadiya pointed out, with a slight smile and a glint in her eye, "High water is about five-thirty. Perhaps an early night is in order ... don't you think?"

Neither CC nor Joe being a fool, they didn't protest as moves were made towards bed. Water was heated, and bowls taken to cabins. Naked bodies of both genders were tenderly ... and sensually ... wiped down and carefully dried. The water used to flush the sea toilet. Nobody bothered to wear anything to sleep in.

Joe spent a long time exploring his young wife's curves, encouraged by sighs, hums and groans of pleasure. That they'd been making love together for months previously was irrelevant; their mutual enjoyment was of an entirely greater order than before they were married. When he finally came in her, she was worn out by an escalating series of orgasms, of which she'd lost count. She just clung to him, endeavouring to mould every possible square inch of her body to his. They slept, deeply content.

CC, of course, was much younger. Nadiya didn't mind that he came, hard, in her soon after they joined. She'd had a single climax, but was confident in her ability to get him hard again for a second round that would last longer. Much longer. When CC came again, she was physically entirely satisfied, but while he slept she lay in his arms a long time, wondering what would come of their relationship. She was very aware that his parents, though polite to her, barely tolerated their relationship. Perhaps earning a degree would help, maybe. Perhaps.

Monday morning.

CC slept well, and was woken by his watch a little after five o'clock. As he gently disengaged from Nadiya's arms, she surfaced, blearily, her blonde hair, cropped for ease of maintenance, tousled. His heart lurched as he looked at her, and he bent to kiss her neck.

"Mmm," she hummed. "I'll deal with breakfast."

"Good enough." He paused, "You would tell me if I was taking you for granted?"

She sat up. "I thank God every day that you want to be with me at all."

"You should know by now that it's not like that. Right now, though, we probably need to get on."

Both Denise and Joe had slept better, but not so heavily that they didn't stir when they heard Nadiya in the head. Denise wriggled against her husband. "After you in the head. You'll be quicker than me. You'd better be quicker."

Joe quickly pulled on briefs and trousers, then, like CC, bent and kissed Denise's neck, which she stretched in response. Unlike CC, though, he nuzzled for several seconds.

"I just love your scent."

She giggled. "Strange fellow. But good strange. Go on, now."

After a cooked breakfast, leaving the creek was simple. Wind and tide were in the same direction, with Serendipity pointing upstream. Which meant sails could be raised without problems. Once again, CC and Joe took care of the anchor whilst Nadiya talked Denise through the use of the helm to get the boat to pay off and turn in the limited space available, using the stay-sail to push the head off to starboard until they were making steerage way out to the Colne. Once in the river, it was necessary to gybe, but Nadiya calmly told Denise what to do, and what to call out. Explanation could wait until the rush was over.

By the time CC was satisfied everything on the foredeck was in order, which was delayed by lengthy discussions with Joe – not all of which concerned sailing, or the management of Serendipity – they were passing St. Osyth Point. They made their way to the cockpit.

"Denise, Joe ... you have a choice this morning. We can go inshore, back the way we came yesterday, in the Wallet, or we can go offshore and head up the East Swin, which will take us past the Roughs Tower. Offshore is a little further, but Serendipity might make better speed," he shrugged, "or maybe not. From my point of view there's little to choose."

Denise looked at Joe, eyebrows raised. He took the look as telling him he had permission to make the decision. "Let's take the inshore option," he said. "Turn at the Colne Bar?"

CC agreed. "Pass the North Eagle and there should be plenty of water over the Priory Spit."

"Not a problem I had with Joy," Joe commented, "she only drew just over three feet."

"Serendipity needs almost six," CC said, "so we'll keep outside the Ledge. Not that it's that shallow most of the way. We'll carry the ebb probably as far as the Medusa, if not Pitching Ground."

During the ebb, the current flows north-east up the East Anglian coast, at up to almost two knots depending on the tidal range, neaps or springs. With the quartering breeze, Serendipity was covering an average of around five miles per hour, so by low water she was approaching the dredged channel for the big ships in and out of Harwich Haven. The channel is perhaps half a mile wide and would take Serendipity a minimum of four minutes to cross. That doesn't sound too serious, but the big ships could be travelling at up to thirty knots – the high speed ferries even faster – and they don't manoeuvre very easily. Not to mention their poor visibility when stacked up with containers. Crossing the deep channel is a matter of monitoring channel 71 on VHF, keeping a good lookout, and getting out of the way as soon as possible.

Entrance to many east coast rivers is tricky. The Ore is probably the worst, but the Deben is difficult enough. A 'bar' or bank of sand, shingle or gravel builds up across the mouth and shifts unpredictably and radically. There may be as little as eighteen inches of water at a spring tide low water, so you can understand that yachts are recommended not to attempt the entrance before half flood. Local experts keep leading marks and buoys correctly placed, but even so great care is needed, even if one is familiar with the waters.

Serendipity was off Woodbridge Haven just an hour after low water, and CC was definitely not prepared to attempt crossing the bar that early. Ordinarily, he would have either continued sailing north-east or anchored near the Haven buoy, but after a brief discussion with Joe, set the boat hove-to on the starboard tack, which meant she was making very slow progress more or less south-west, but requiring minimal supervision. They ate lunch in the cockpit again, and when they'd finished, CC explained the problems of entering the river. Denise looked nervous, but was reassured that the worst that could happen was running aground, which in the prevailing conditions was not dangerous.

The bar, called 'The Knolls', extends south from Bawdsey point, and the river cuts a channel which sometimes runs east-west, and sometimes north-south. On that occasion, happily, the channel was north-south, otherwise, CC said, he'd use the engine with the wind in the west.

The entry was straightforward, though CC did make use of the lead-line several times until they were fully into the river. High tide is forty minutes later at Woodbridge than at the Haven, so they had just over three and a half hours to cover the twelve miles. The fairway meanders between the banks of the river, so with the wind anywhere between west and north-east, heading up river is going to require tacking at some point. Several points, in fact. However, they managed to enter the Tidemill Yacht Harbour just before the tide turned again. CC, apologetically, insisted on using the engine twice during the last mile and a half, rather than attempting to manoeuvre Serendipity under sail by Martlesham Creek, and for the entrance to the marina.

Hot showers removed any displeasure or disappointment any of the crew might have felt at resorting to the 'iron sail'...

Everyone was quite familiar with Woodbridge, so Joe was a little surprised that CC asked if he'd mind taking a walk with him, which he duly agreed to. Nadiya, meanwhile, boiled some potatoes and prepared to poach kippers to eat for supper.

"You and CC seem very close..." ventured Denise.

"I love him," Nadiya said simply.

"So..." Denise prompted, when Nadiya didn't say any more.

The other girl looked at her. "CC ... and Pippa Henderson, who owns Serendipity with CC ... saved my life. With Cherry Thornton, who was Skippering Serendipity at the time. That was before CC and Pippa's father bought this boat." Nadiya turned back to the stove.

"Oh?" Then, when the other girl didn't elaborate, "Will you marry him?" Denise was horrified then, when Nadiya turned her tear-streaked face to her.

"I am a Russian orphan, who was taken as a sex-slave at fourteen, to be used by men who liked to pretend I was even younger than I was." She went on to give Denise some idea of what her life had been. Finishing, she concluded, "His family wouldn't ever accept me, I think. He's never suggested marrying. But I enjoy him while I have him."

Denise didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

Joe and CC had passed the station and entered the yacht broker's yard, and CC hadn't spoken, though Joe was sure he had something in his mind. They looked at several of the boats there for sale, but still, all that was said concerned the risks and considerations involved in buying a second-hand vessel. They eventually made their way through the yard, and out the other end into a lane past a small park, turned left, and walked the few yards to the waterfront.

There's a sort of prom, running along by the river, with one or two park benches so walkers can sit and contemplate the river ... or the mud, when the tide is out. Of course, there is woodland on the other side and wading birds poking around in the mud, so it's pleasant enough at any time. CC indicated one of the benches without speaking and Joe nodded. Even sitting there, CC didn't speak for some time.

It was pleasant enough sitting there despite the cool weather, but Joe couldn't help thinking of Denise, so he broke the silence. "Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Yes..." CC spoke slowly, "but I'm not sure how to say what I want to. To ask what I want to. I don't want to offend ... don't mean to offend."

"I don't understand why I might be offended, but I'll try not to be."

"Okay, then. You seem to be quite a lot older than Denise? She looks to be in her early twenties..."

"She does, but actually she's nearly thirty-five. I'm twenty years older, so, yes, there is quite a gap."

"And ... she's, well, she's coloured..."

"She is. Her grandparents came over from Jamaica in the fifties." Joe wasn't sure where this was going and was prepared to get angry, but held it back.

"How do your family feel about her?"

"Mum loves her. Dad's dead, but I'm pretty sure he'd have loved her too. Mind you, I was a bit surprised how quickly Mum accepted her." He paused. "So ... where are you going with this?"