Chapter 21

Eva, with Jim in tow, met us at twelve-thirty in the Porthole Restaurant; we were sitting by a window with a good view down the quay. Jim seemed to hang back.

We stood and I stepped up to Jim with hand outstretched. "It seems congratulations are in order."

He relaxed and took my hand. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it..."

"I'm delighted. You've nothing to fear as long as you do the right thing. When's the big day?"

He looked at Eva, who replied, "Saturday, fourteenth of September, at St. Mary's. Dulcie has been so sweet to me and I've so enjoyed the services, I didn't even think of asking Father O'Donahue at Assumption of Our Lady church, I'm afraid."

"Why don't we sit and order? Plenty of time to talk while we wait for our meal."

It seemed that Jim had proceeded very carefully indeed and had only got round, nervously, to asking Eva that morning, and had immediately shot off to arrange the wedding with Dulcie. Eva, looking adoringly at Jim, said, "I wasn't going to give him too much chance to change his mind."

"And I want the baby to have my name," Jim added.

We split a bottle of decent wine between us, persuading the girls to have half a glass each. There was no way we were going to get away back to Woodbridge that day; Grace and Eva had to have girl-time ... Jim and I went to the pub; they had Bushmills, but Jim stuck to beer. I know I live in the East, but I don't have a high opinion of the local beers, though some of the micro-breweries produce a fair pint, so while Jim supped his IPA, I stuck to whiskey. Before 'last orders' were called, we set off for Mill Road. To my surprise, Jim declined my invitation to come in.

"I haven't ... we haven't ... I mean, we're waiting until we're married. Might have to be longer than that," he added with a chuckle, "but, you know, even with your warning, I wouldn't have wanted to rush her. She's ... special."

"She is. And you know what, Jim? So are you."

"Coming from you, that means a lot. You off in the morning?"

"Probably. Get the afternoon tide from Woodbridge. Might moor overnight at the Ferry, take a leisurely run back here. No rush, but I don't suppose we'll get away much more after this."

"See you, Ted."

"G'night, Jim."

Both girls were in Eva's room. I drank a lot of water to dilute the whiskey and stave off the possibility of a hangover, had a shower, undressed and got into bed.

I was half asleep when Grace slipped in behind me and reached for my penis.

"You awake, Lover?"

"Um ... no?" but my body was giving away the lie. I rolled over to face her and we kissed before she turned away from me, backed her rear into my lap and reached down to guide me in. She sighed as I entered her, and she took my hand that was stroking her thigh, and held it to her breast.

"Do you like my bigger breasts?"

She was right; her pregnancy had caused her to go from a nearly 'B' cup to a 'D' cup.

"I like your breasts, Sweetheart, as I've said before. I won't like them any less when they eventually go back to their original size."

"Humph." But she was doing things with her vaginal muscles that encouraged me to move. I groaned and began longer, deeper strokes. She came, her vagina convulsing in a way I could never resist and I followed her immediately.

I woke early, with a protesting bladder and tried to slip out of bed without disturbing Grace. Small chance; with a baby sitting on top of her bladder and kicking it, she didn't have much chance, so as I was standing there, her bump pressed against my back and her hands reached round to direct my stream. Why is it women like to do that? She rubbed her soft breasts against my back.

"Good morning, Lover. Nice evening with Jim?"

"Very good, thanks. Enlightening, too."

"Uh huh? I wonder if he told you the same as Eva told me? I'm surprised ... and impressed ... with your friend."

I finished and stepped away from the pan; Grace sank onto it with a sigh, followed by the sound of her water.

"You know, Ted, when we were in Orkney, you said you didn't have any friends here."

I grunted.

"Seems to me you had ... have ... more than you thought. I've noticed how many people greet you when you're out and about, and Jim certainly seems like a friend."

"I think you had something to do with that."

"How so?"

"I think I deliberately kept people at a distance until you broke through my defences."

"Hmmm." She finished, and we knocked heads cleaning our teeth at the one basin. "I want to strip the bed before we go and put the linen in the machine."

"Shall I do that, or start breakfast?"

"Would you? I'd rather cook."

It all worked out well. By the time we'd eaten and put what we needed in kit-bags, the machine had finished and we hung the sheets outside.

"Looking a bit gloomy," Grace commented, "but Eva will bring the stuff in before it starts to rain, or this evening."

It was 'a bit gloomy'. By the time we were alighting at Woodbridge station, which is only yards from the marina, the overcast was heavy. I checked out of the marina and began readying Serendipity for departure as Grace was making sandwiches and boiling the kettle. The rain started as we finished eating and we donned foul-weather gear before going on deck. I handled the shore-lines and hopped aboard as Grace started Serendipity moving. We were probably, certainly, a little ahead of the tide, but with the wind in the south-west, we needed to motor anyway. The fairway at Woodbridge is convoluted, but trends north-east to south-west.

There are also stretches where a south-westerly means a dead beat to windward in a fairly narrow fairway, from 'The Hams' to Waldringfield and past 'The Rocks'; I insisted we use the motor there too. I considered anchoring at The Rocks, which is a pleasant place offering a walk of less than a mile to the pub at Ramsholt, but by the time we got there the rain had set in with a vengeance so we kept going.

"I'm planning on picking up a mooring at the Ferry," I told Grace, "unless you really want to keep going, in which case we'll anchor on the Shelf by Harwich."

"This'll be quieter, though, and it's not as though we're in hurry," she agreed, "not to mention sailing in the rain."

So we grabbed a mooring at the Ferry, just too late for the café. That was fine; we had all we needed on board. I lit the stove, we read, listened to the radio, and heated some chicken stew; Grace having decided her tastes had in fact changed. A very domestic picture, snug as the rain pounded on the coach-roof and the temperature outside dropped with the passing of the weather front.

High water at the Ferry is an hour earlier than at Woodbridge, so we couldn't leave easily before one-thirty. That was good – we had a gentle stroll along the sea defences (the front having moved on) before treating ourselves to fish 'n' chips in the Ferry Café.

At high water, the wind had veered with the progress of the shallow depression, giving us a westerly, which I expected to veer northerly during the course of the day; that was great for leaving the Deben under sail. Unfortunately, the ebb tide means a north-easterly current of up to one and a half knots at the peak. In a five-knot yacht, that's a rather significant effect. We took six hours to reach the Knoll buoy at the end of the Wallet and the beginning of the Blackwater. I would have liked to anchor overnight in Pyefleet Creek, behind Mersea Island, but with the north-westerly, we settled for the better shelter of Mersea Quarters, a hot meal and bed.

The short version of the Thursday, was weighing anchor at eleven o'clock to sail up to Maldon, which with a little cheating with the motor again had Serendipity back in her berth at two, really the first moment there was enough water to get in.

I suppose it was inevitable, sooner or later, that the married Captain Quinton met the ghost of the unattached Captain Quinton. I'd barely secured the mooring warps and positioned the boarding plank; really, just a plank ... while Grace was tidying below, when a husky – I'd have to say, sexy – contralto voice called, "Ahoy, Serendipity!" and a vision of the past sauntered along the plank to board. Tallish, lush curves, long blonde hair ... oh, I remembered the hassle with that hair, the washings and dryings without a hair-dryer, the brushings ... but I also remembered very well the body underneath the jeans and tunic top.