Chapter 3

She waited for me outside the café and, watching my face carefully, reached out and took my hand; hers was trembling. I smiled, and she relaxed a little.

“Kelly isn’t my real name,” she blurted.

I cocked my head and, after a few moments thought, said, “I didn’t really think it was.”

“But you came anyway?”

I nodded slowly. “I hoped you would trust me enough to know the real you. That you would want me to know the real you.”

“Kelly is ... who I want to be ... I think. But my real name is Lupeta Maria Santos.” I could still feel her trembling. After a pause, she went on, “And there’s something else, too. You will see. Will you come?”

I squeezed her hand gently. “Of course ... Kelly.”

She smiled then ... tremulously, it is true, but a smile ... and tugged on my hand to lead me away. She led me through a labyrinth of streets such that I had only a vague idea of where I was, and stopped outside a small restaurant. She waved me inside where we were greeted by a substantial lady.

“Tia Rosa,” Kelly said, “this is Captain Jim Smith who is sailing round the world. I told you about how we’ve been emailing...” She went into some rapid-fire Spanish, to which the older woman frowned and replied, obviously questioning. After a couple of short exchanges, Kelly turned to me. “Jim, tia Rosa will look after you while I clean off this make-up.” I nodded and she left.

The older woman looked at me critically. The title ‘aunt’ might have been honorary, but I thought I could detect a family resemblance. “Captain Smith...” she began.

“Jim,” I corrected. “‘Captain’ is a bit pretentious for the skipper of a thirty-six foot yacht.”

“Jim...” she pronounced it more like ‘Jeem’, “we are very fond of Lupeta. She is a good girl who has not had much luck in her life.” She examined me, evaluated me, visually. “I hope you do not hurt her.”

“That’s the last thing I’d want,” I said, and she nodded.

She waved me to a small table in a corner and sat with me until Kelly returned. Kelly sat opposite me and held my eyes, then, deliberately, brushed her long hair back from the left side of her face, revealing a three-inch-long, livid, burn scar. Clearly old and well healed, but very obvious.

I reached out slowly and cupped the side of her face ... stroked the scar gently with my thumb. “Oh, you poor dear...”

“You do not mind?”

I thought about my answer as I held her gaze and stroked her cheek.

“I do not think you are ugly, inside or out.” Then, after a pause, frowning, “I am angry that you have been hurt ... and angry that people have allowed you to think you are ugly, but I am not angry with you.”

A hand descended to my shoulder – I felt the weight of it and looked up at Kelly’s aunt, who was smiling at me; she then looked across at Kelly. “Preciosa, you see – just as we have always told you. Tell Jeem the rest. I have to go.”

I can’t say I was thinking straight, or that I was at all practical. I think, really, I was aware of only two things. No, three. Firstly, that Kelly looked at me. So did Rosa, of course, but that was different, somehow. Secondly, that I was angry that Kelly had been hurt, both physically by whatever caused the scar and emotionally by her family. Thirdly ... well, Kelly was a young woman and, scar or no scar, she was attractive to me.

We sat in silence for some time; Kelly’s eyes had dropped from mine and she was staring at the table top. I stopped caressing her cheek to run my fingers through her soft hair before dropping my hand to the table. She took it on both hers before she began to talk. I didn’t know whether to weep for her, or rush out and start killing people, so I did neither. Her father died – was killed – when she was barely three. She didn’t know how, or why. But she and her mother were taken in by an uncle; her mother was treated as a slave, she was merely a nuisance, constantly denigrated and humiliated. Her mother’s attempts to protect her resulted in her uncle abusing her mother in her presence and her mother’s attempts at protection rapidly faded out.

Kelly had retained a degree of assertiveness; she’d worked hard when she got to school and kept her head down at home, even though she had problems getting her homework done in view of her ‘duties’ around the house. At puberty, she made the mistake of telling her uncle she would find a man and leave home for ever. His response was to brand her cheek with a hot poker and rape her.

“Now,” he told her, “you’re ugly and useless, and you’re not a virgin, so no-one will want you.”

Her mother had picked up some infection and her uncle refused to pay for her to see a doctor. Even before she died, Kelly was having to service her uncle in order to be allowed to care for her dying mother, but once she was dead Kelly left and managed to lose herself in the city. In perhaps the only good thing in her life to that point, she was picked up by Rosa, given a corner to sleep in and a little money when the restaurant needed someone to help in the kitchen. Although she tried, Kelly couldn’t get a permanent job, but managed to survive with Rosa’s help. She heard about internet dating sites and found she could make a little money conning men in other countries into joining them.

“But then, you wrote back to me and I don’t know why, but I couldn’t just lead you on.”

Somewhere in the middle of her account, which was much longer and more detailed than I’ve given here, food started to arrive. It was good ... in fact, it was very good. Good enough to overcome the nausea her account had given me.

Rosa brought coffee and sat with us. “Well, Jeem. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a very good cook. That was the best meal I’ve had for a long time.”

“Thank you. Kelly is nearly as good, though I can’t afford to pay her what she’s worth. But that is not what I meant.”

“I don’t know what I can do, but I would like to help if I could...”

The two women exchanged glances.

“Go on, then, Preciosa,” Rosa said to Kelly.

“Take me with you,” Kelly told me.

I just gaped. When I didn’t respond (other than with astonishment) Kelly’s face fell and she looked as though she was going to cry.

“I knew you wouldn’t want me.”

“Kelly...” I took a deep breath, “Sweetie. It’s not that I don’t want you, it’s just ... I don’t think you know what you’re asking.” I closed my eyes for a few moments. “You’re asking to be taken on a voyage of thousands of miles in a small boat. Have you done any sailing? Been on a boat?”

She shook her head, “But I can learn. And I can cook. And ... other things ... if you want.”

I thought of another hitch. “Have you got a passport?”

“Yes ... Rosa helped me to get one, in case I ever had a chance to get away from here.”

“You will need a visitor’s visa for the UK. I don’t know what that entails...”

This is, perhaps, a good place to remind you of some facts. Firstly, that Kelly was the second woman to actually look at me and relate to me as a person ... as a man. In fact, she was the first woman to be realistically perceived as a partner, though that didn’t enter my head at the time. I was completely inexperienced in that way. Secondly, Kelly was completely inexperienced in relating to a man romantically (this is all in retrospect, of course). Her experience of men was solely that of being used – not to put too fine a point on it, raped – by her uncle. So, both of us were fumbling to understand what we were doing, where we were going, what we wanted. I was bemused by a completely unfamiliar situation, one that I wanted to continue. Kelly’s original plan, which she considered a forlorn hope, was to find some acceptable man who could take her out of her unsatisfactory situation. Like most men, I was setting out to solve a problem: I was going to help Kelly escape. I didn’t think about the consequences of transporting her to England and what would be needed once I got her there.

Getting her a UK visa was expensive but relatively straightforward. Manila is really a random collection of towns or cities that huddle together with a collective identity that isn’t really meaningful. The Embassy was in Makati City, not too far from where we were. I’d have got lost, but Kelly knew her way around. We made the application and were told it would take between two days and four months to complete, not that they put it quite that way. As it turned out, it took five days, during which I had to occupy myself while Kelly worked. I considered buying the clothing and equipment she was going to need on board, but decided that would have to wait until Davao. I didn’t know what weight restriction there would be on the flight.