Chapter 3

Norma:

By the time we were all secure at the Ferry, it’d been well over twelve hours we’d ... I’d ... been active and busy, mostly on my feet. Rusty and I worked together to produce a simple hot meal and pot of tea, which we then consumed in the cabin, rather than sitting in the cockpit – it was a little cool out there, between the water and a ‘lazy wind’ from the east. A rapidly moving depression had brought a backing wind and a cold front. I considered lighting the fire, but settled for the oil-fired heater.

I was very aware of Rusty in close proximity. Not that he invaded my personal space, or did or said anything to unsettle me, but, well, I was just aware of him. Saying that, it sounds obvious, but I mean that there was more to my awareness than just knowing he was there. I loved Rob – I really did. It was late coming to me that I did. I suppose we grew together as we grew up, and became ‘one’ just as marriage is intended to be, but it was something that was always there in some way. I must confess that there were times when a man impinged upon my consciousness and triggered ... thoughts. Carnal thoughts. However, there was never any temptation to act upon those thoughts.

Our physical relationship, though, had declined some time before his cancer was diagnosed. In fact, it was that which caused me to nag him into consulting our doctor. Damn that male stoicism! I admit it may not have made a difference, but getting a diagnosis a year earlier could have given the oncologists a chance to beat the disease. Obviously, his illness and subsequent death affected me, and the lack of sex wasn’t a major matter for me at the time. Two years after his passing, though, I was rediscovering my libido. That was, in part, due to the presence of an attractive man in close proximity. When we went to our (separate) bunks, my hand made its way – without any conscious decision on my part – between my legs. There I found slippery moisture and those tingles I’d about forgotten. I lay there, gently circling my bump, until I felt the growing tension peak and flood my loins with pleasure ... not quite like making love with Rob, but enough to dissipate my tension and allow me to slide into sleep.

I was woken at seven-thirty, not by an alarm, but by a phone call. Having fought my way to consciousness, I was going to answer it, but I was too late. In fact, the number was of my old Headmaster, so I called back.

“Oh, Norma! Thank you so much for calling back. Peter was knocked off his bike last night, and I really need cover for today and tomorrow. I’d prefer it to be you, if you can make it. Y10 maths and physics.”

I thought rapidly – at least, as rapidly as I could, a few minutes after being roused from a deep sleep. “I’m away from home today,” I said, “in fact I’m on board my boat at Felixstowe Ferry. Let me see what I can work out and call you back. Half an hour, maybe?”

“Thank you. This has come at me rather suddenly.”

“Half an hour, Charles.” I hung up, and swung my legs out of my bunk. Rusty was already stirring. “Rusty, I’ve just been asked to do some teaching at very short notice. A couple of days, at least. I feel I need to respond. I’ll pay for your time, of course. But I don’t know how I’ll get to Ipswich.”

He shook his head. “No problem. I’m sure I know someone – a couple of people, in fact – who could get you into Ipswich, no trouble. I don’t mind spending a couple of days here, either. I’ll catch up with friends.”

And that is how I met up with Jessica Yeomans, and Clara and Rob Bellamy. I understand that the latter two kept Jessica company and drove her around after she was diagnosed with some heart problem. Anyway, Clara drove me – and Jessica – into Ipswich, and dropped me off at the school. Jessica was going to work – she’s a solicitor, and still working in her seventies – and they offered to pick me up after the school closed for the day. I thought it better to rent a car, though, and Enterprise happily delivered a Corsa to the school at home time.

I hadn’t spent much time in school over the preceding year or so. In honesty, I suppose the kids weren’t actually any worse behaved or less attentive than they had been, but a year of relative peace and tranquillity had reduced my resilience. Or perhaps tolerance. I wasn’t sure. At least I got through the day satisfactorily. When I arrived back at the Ferry, I found I was invited to ‘meet the family’. Rusty isn’t actually related to any of them, though I noticed Jessica’s daughter, Alison, watching him speculatively. Jenni, her husband Marty and little Davey aren’t actually related either, though I gathered Jenni had been adopted by Jessica’s late husband unofficially. Another young man, Simon Townsend, I didn’t quite understand his status in the family, was also present. He was very quiet but appeared to have a rapport with little Davey. (I’d met him before, on the cruise with Sam). I’m not sure I’ll ever understand all the relationships there. But it was a very comfortable meal. I felt welcomed and accepted.

I found I was chatting to Jenni’s husband, Marty, who, like me, was a teacher, also of mathematics. However, he was usually employed as a barge-master aboard a Thames barge called ’Emily Jane’. The barge was owned and operated by a charity working with young people. It offered adventure outings, mostly to deprived or disturbed youngsters, with some ‘standard’ teaching included. I was intrigued.

“If you were looking for a somewhat different setting for your professional practice,” Marty smiled, “you might be interested in signing on for an educational cruise or two, as a Third Hand, and assistant tutor. I understand you have a second specialist subject?”

“I do. English, in fact. Though I haven’t taught the subject in several years. I do teach some physics as well as the maths when it’s needed. Just at the moment I am not in financial need of work, though.”

“Well, bear it in mind. You can always call me if you want to explore the idea.”

We left about half-past nine, as I wanted to get a good night’s sleep, and Rusty and I walked back to the river, pushed the little tender off, and rowed out to Sea Scout. We didn’t take long over our night-time routines, and for the second night in a row I diddled my bump to a (slightly less than entirely satisfying) orgasm while thinking of him. In the morning, we rowed ashore and bought breakfast in the Ferry Cafe before I drove into Ipswich following Jessica and Clara. They would collect me after work so I could return the Corsa.

The Head asked me if I was willing to continue the following week, but I declined. He admitted he could get a good substitute for Monday, so I didn’t feel too bad. I did explain that I was in the middle of a sailing cruise, learning to handle a sailing boat I’d inherited. He understood, and wished me well. Outside the school at the end of the day, my ride was driven by Jenni Peters.

“Norma, I owe you an apology. This morning, Rusty took a call asking him to take over SB Kitty at Harwich – it seems that her skipper was knocked down by a car and is in hospital. Rusty was the only qualified skipper available to take over. He was very reluctant to leave you in the lurch so to speak, but I told him there were several others qualified to help you. I would have taken over Kitty, but unfortunately I had no-one to look after Davey at short notice. Rusty did say he thought you were quite capable of managing on your own, but as I say, there are several of us familiar with the waters around here, with a variety of qualifications. So, as I say, I apologise for encouraging Rusty to take the job. Will you forgive me?”

I didn’t quite know what to think, let alone how to respond. I supposed it would be unreasonable of me to get cross about it – it’s not as though I was left in the lurch. I said so. “I expect I’ll get over it,” and I giggled – a habit I never lost, though there weren’t many giggles in the previous couple of years. Like, none. That made me think. “Do you recommend someone?” I asked.

“Well...” she hesitated, and glanced at Jessica, “Simon got his ‘Competent Crew’ a couple of months ago. Most of the women I know have family commitments, but I could call and ask if anyone else is available.”

“Tell me about Simon,” I said, “I don’t have a problem with sailing with a male crew, but...”

“Ah. I think ... I think it would be better if Simon told his story. I’ll just say that I trust him. In fact, if I were to go with you, Simon would be looking after Davey, along with Clara, whom Davey adores.” She paused, “You’ll come to supper with us, won’t you? We were expecting you to. Unless you want to take the ebb as soon as we get home.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t planning on leaving right away.”

“Good. Talk to Simon when we get home.”

Simon:

I suppose I need to explain something about myself. I don’t really like to talk about it, but there we are. I was a squaddie in the Army – the Royal Anglian Regiment – and we were deployed to Afghanistan. We were on patrol, and were ambushed. For some reason I was unhurt; the rest of the patrol were either dead or injured, and the mujaheddin killed the wounded, but took me prisoner. I don’t know why. I mean, there’s nothing special about another private soldier, is there? They kept me a couple of months before a routine sweep found me by chance and I got to go home. The shrinks talked to me, explained stuff. But it doesn’t matter how well things are explained, it doesn’t help. You still feel guilty you survived and the others didn’t. You still feel the results of months of abuse and humiliation. Eventually I was medically discharged, but I just couldn’t cope with how my family were around me – they just couldn’t understand and took off, sleeping rough, wandering. Until one day – I might have died, but I was found – a small boy saw me, called his family, and I was swept up into a world of boats and empathetic people.

The little boy, Davey, well, his mother, Jenni, apparently was a runaway as a teenager and she’d been found just about the same place as me. She and her husband, Marty Peters, took me in and helped me ... find myself, I suppose is the expression. They had me talk to a retired psychologist and I got so I could cope, but I never tried to return to my old life. Instead, I took to sailing, living with the Peters, helping Jenni’s adoptive mother, Jessica. It’s sort of a family thing, even if there’s no direct blood relationship, but, yes, there’s an extended family who took me to their hearts. They trusted me with their children, which amazed me, and of course I was determined to be worthy of that trust.

Jenni had me take some sailing courses, and to go unpaid as a ‘third hand’ on board several of the old Thames barges. That exposed me to a different sort of family, in heritage sailing. So there I was, a year or so after being ‘adopted’ by Jenni’s ‘family’, and Norma came into my life. I’d met her before, and I knew Rusty Ironside from the barges. In fact, I met Norma when I was third hand on one of the barge cruises with Rusty. At the time she was with her husband. I noticed her, oh, yes. But not to fantasise about her particularly and definitely not to try to engage her in conversation.