Chapter 4

Jessica Yeomans was tall, slim, elegant and greying. I found out later that she was in her early seventies, having married late. Alison, her daughter, was an unexpected, though welcome, gift after she married David Yeomans, who was about ten years older. When they arrived at Jenni’s house they were welcomed with warm hugs before being introduced to Clara and myself. Davey was asleep for his afternoon nap.

“So ... Rob. How are you liking Eirene?”

“A lovely boat and perfect for my current needs. I’m getting quite a lot done on my book, and getting a little sailing on the side. Having a house ... um ... ship-keeper really helps.”

“Eirene can be managed single-handed, but a crew definitely helps.”

“Just so.”

“But your crew... ?”

“Never been on a sailing boat before,” Clara put in. “I think I’m hooked. Of course, since Rob rescued me, I may be biased.”

“Rescued?”

“Yeah. I was dumped out on the hard shoulder of the M11 by a former friend who thought ‘friend’ was going to be ‘with benefits’. Rob came along in time to save me from being picked up by traffic officers.”

“I see. I doubt if you’d have been prosecuted. The courts have enough to do without that. You’re all right now?”

“Oh, yes. Rob is becoming a real friend – without ‘benefits’.”

Jessica nodded, and the conversation moved on. Clara moved closer to Alison and began a conversation – I only got snippets, of course, as I was concentrating on Jenni and Jessica – it seemed to be about the influence of archaeological findings on written history, which makes sense, of course. I was having to concentrate because I was getting a master class on navigation (technically, strictly speaking, pilotage) about the East Anglian coast and estuaries.

Davey woke at some point and was fetched down by Jenni. He made a bee-line for Clara and sat in her lap.

“Have you looked at the advanced forecast recently?” Jenni started that during a lull in the conversation.

“No?”

“Intense depression, they’re calling it Storm Trevor, out in the Atlantic. Might get a bit wild next week.”

“It’ll be attenuated by the time it gets here, though?”

“Sure. Probably. But you might want to make sure you’re sheltered. You might do worse than pull in to Dave’s old mud berth. It’s in the creek behind the boatyard.”

“Not a bad idea. Fairly quiet there?”

“Oh, yes! You’ll have the odd walker, dog walkers, bird watchers, but no disturbance usually. Hundred yards to the cafe...” she smiled, “Give you a hand to get round at high water this evening?”

“Thanks! Let’s do that.”

We detached Clara from Davey – not without difficulty – and went for our showers. Hot water. Unlimited hot water in a warm bathroom. Clean clothes. Jenni insisted we leave our washing for her to process with her own.

Marty arrived home, having spent the day on the school barge, Emily Jane. He’d had two school parties, morning and afternoon, for tours of the vessel and history lessons. He greeted us, was introduced to Clara, and disappeared for a shower. “Not needed for cleanliness,” he chuckled, “just for relaxation.” Nobody commented that Jenni went with him to make sure he was clean, leaving us with Jessica, Alison and Davey.

Savoury casserole and more good conversation, then Marty volunteered to put Davey to bed so that Jenni could help us get Eirene into the mud berth. Once there, it was easy to lug supplies on board, rather then ferry them out in the tender. The stove had burned low, but we managed to get it going again and we now had plenty of fuel for perhaps two weeks. It’d been a long day, so we made it an early night.

Laid in bed, on the cusp of sleep, Clara murmured, “Jessica offered me a bed. Jenni said that Jessica is lonely sometimes.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I like it here, but I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You aren’t in the way. You’re company, and you look after me. Of course, I can’t give you the attention I perhaps should, since I’m really here to write...”

“You give me exactly enough attention.”

“Stay as long as you like. I like having you here.”

I suppose it was a very odd arrangement, but it seemed to suit Clara. Me? I was very happy. I don’t say I wouldn’t have liked to go further with Clara, but somehow what we had was enough. Since Alison was home, Clara didn’t visit Jessica over the weekend. First thing in the morning we took a brisk walk along the flood defences and finished up at the cafe for breakfast. I then got stuck in to my work. I think Clara visited Jenni and read to Davey, but was back to make sandwiches for lunch, bringing another invitation for supper. Jenni cooked us fish that had been in the sea only a few hours previously.

On Sunday, Clara went with Jenni, Marty and Davey to church in the little chapel, Saint Nicholas at the Ferry, but I stayed to work.

The forecast storm, reduced to a gale by the time it’d crossed the British mainland, arrived Monday night. We played cards to the accompaniment of the wind shrieking in the rigging and halyards tapping on the masts of boats in the yard. Eirene’s halyards had been secured to the stays so they didn’t tap. Rain beat on the coachroof. I was glad to be in a secure, fairly sheltered spot. In bed, Clara snuggled up to me. While that was a little disturbing, it was also comforting.

The winds continued through Tuesday, slowly diminishing, with intermittent bursts of rain. We met Jenni, Davey and Jessica for lunch in the cafe, some of the best fish’n’chips I’ve ever tasted. Clara spent the rest of the day with Jessica while I worked.

The pattern continued with minor variations for a couple of weeks, by which time I was ready to get into the editing and polishing stage. It was time for me to go home. Eirene needed to be returned to a berth in Maldon, where she served as a base for Jenni when she worked on the barges. Tide wise, we were almost back to where we started. Marty helped me extricate the boat from the creek and back onto the swinging mooring one evening, and the following morning, early, Clara and I left the Ferry and headed out at four in the morning. We left under power; my seamanship is not such that I have confidence in narrow places and the entrance to the Deben is tricky. Out in the North Sea, in a light, cold, and damp wind from the south-west, we set course for the Medusa buoy, near as we could. Crossing the deep channel was nerve-wracking as usual, but there was nothing on the radio to indicate traffic. It was a beat in the Wallet, all the way. The clew of the number two Genoa has a tendency to catch as it passes the mast, and it did that about half the time, so Clara and I took turns to free it – that means leaving the cockpit, going forward, freeing the sheet from whatever caught it, and returning to the cockpit. The wind was maybe force two or three, so I didn’t insist on harness and line.

It was a long day. We sailed through sunrise and sunset and brought to in Mersea Quarters at about half past five. We anchored to eat and sleep, and would make our way up-river the next afternoon. After a day of sandwiches – we did manage hot coffee, tea, and chocolate fairly regularly – it was good to have a hot meal and open up the fire to get warm. Clara was pensive, and wanted some quiet music as we unwound after the meal.

“Rob...”

“Uh huh?”

“I’ve really enjoyed this time together.”

“Good! I was afraid you’d be bored.”

“Not bored. I actually felt useful.”

“And you were. I got a lot more done thanks to your efforts.”

“Um...” Long pause. “I ... can we keep in touch?”

“I was hoping we would. In fact, I was going to ask if you wanted to ride back to Sheffield with me.”

“Oh!” Pause. “Er ... actually, Jessica asked if I would go to stay with her, at least until I decide on what I’ll be doing. I’d like to come with you, but I feel...”

“That you want to help Jessica?”

“She’s lonely.”

“Just so. When we get to Maldon, and Eirene is all settled, d’you want me to take you up to Felixstowe?”

“Would you? Jenni said she’d come to fetch me...”

“Sure. You might like to ask Jessica if I can have a bed for the night. It’s a long way to go from Felixstowe on a bike, in winter, at night.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Um ... I would really have liked to come with you, you know.”

Despite having a long day, I lay awake a long time with Clara’s soft warmth moulded to me, though her soft breathing indicated that she was sleeping like the proverbial baby.

Leisurely wake up in the morning. Grey light woke me at eight-thirty. I was spooned behind Clara, her hands pressing mine to her breast through a t-shirt, my morning wood pressed against her bottom. I tried to ease away, but... ‘mutter’. Wriggle. Back into contact. Oh well. Do I need to get up? Um ... not yet, but soon.