Chapter 2

Charles Collins ... CC ... looked young. Which is not surprising because, at nearly nineteen, he was. At an even six feet tall, he also looked slim, which was a little deceptive. After spending much of his life in outdoor activities – walking, climbing and sailing – he was actually both fit and tough. He had, briefly, tried to grow a beard to try to look older, but his facial hair was so fine and slow-growing he'd given up. He had medium brown hair, an angular face, and eyes that were sometimes grey and sometimes pale blue.

He was attractive to his female peers, but seemed not to realise it and really only interacted with women – of any age – who shared his interests. Such interactions were amicable but businesslike. Which is not to say he wasn't interested in the opposite sex; he just didn't know how to approach them romantically. Which was the source of some difficulty for him just at that moment.

He'd been asked to back up Cherry Thornton, who was to skipper a charter. Actually, asked isn't quite the right word. Ordered would be closer, though the 'request' was put in a polite form. Now it wasn't that he didn't want to spend time in close proximity to Cherry. Quite the opposite. Having lusted after her without plucking up the courage to ask for a date, for two years, his feelings combined anticipation, frustration, excitement and acute anxiety in equal measure. So he was quite ambivalent as he packed his dunnage, in late July, to leave SB Repertor in favour of the yacht Serendipity.

Cherry was not unaware of CC's interest. Had he asked, she would probably have agreed to a date; she liked and respected him. However, she had no intention of forming any romantic attachments for the moment as she had no intention of ending her relationship of almost four years with her father. It was most satisfactory for her and, she felt, important for her lover. (If you need the background, read 'Linnet' for the explanation.)

Pippa Henderson was riding with her parents from Brentford to Maldon. She was nervous. Most people wouldn't have noticed as she was always quiet, but her mother could tell.

"Are you sure you want to do this, dear?"

Pippa gritted her teeth. "Yes, mother."

Her father broke in. "It will be good for her. Dennis Thornton's a good chap and I'm impressed with his daughter. She'll be fine."

"It's not Cherry Thornton I'm worried about."

"Mother! I'll be fine."

Her father carefully negotiated the short, steep hill by the pub to the Hythe, turned right breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't meet anything going the other way, then turned on to the quay by the River Bailiff's shed. He let the car trickle along at idle, pedestrians reluctantly letting them through, and stopped at the end as close to Serendipity as he could get.

Pippa hopped out and went immediately to the boot for her dunnage (correcting herself when she initially thought of it as 'luggage'.) Her father took the heavier of two kit-bags from her.

"I can manage," she said, a little tensely.

"I know you could," he said seriously, "but ... let me help, please."

Pippa was quite thankful for the help, though, as they carefully made their way along the plank to get aboard. The hatch into the cabin was open, though there was no-one around, and they dumped her kit in the saloon. Pippa kissed her father on the cheek. "Thanks Dad. I need to do this, you know. Go and have some lunch with Mummy. There are some good restaurants in the High Street, or so I'm told. I will be okay."

"I know, baby," he said quietly, "and next year you'll be away from home at Uni. But this is supposed to be a holiday, a treat. If you really don't like it, call and I'll fetch you."

"Go, Daddy," she answered, but she was smiling as she gave him a gentle push towards the hatch. He kissed her forehead, turned and made himself walk away. Pippa decided to have a look around the boat, her home for the next two weeks unless she chickened out. Despite her determination, that was very tempting.

The boat was very cleverly arranged. At the front... forward ... she told herself sternly ... there was a cabin with a double bunk. Doors around the cabin clearly concealed storage; she opened one and was confronted with a large, grubby, stiff fabric bag. 'Sail bag, ' she told herself. Panels under the bunk covered oddly shaped drawers, which were empty. She retreated from the cabin and found two small rooms, each with a small hand-basin and a toilet; 'heads', she thought, 'But why two? Different? That one has those valves and that lever... ' Opposite, a smaller cabin contained two single bunks, one above the other. With a cupboard; 'locker' she corrected herself. There was very little room; two people would struggle to dress at the same time.

Back in the saloon – a larger space than might be expected – she looked round. Bench seats on two sides, a folding table. Small sink, cooker, and a small work-top. Storage cupboards... lockers... under the seats and just high enough above them to clear someone's head ... if they were not too tall ... when sitting. Inside the entry, an open cupboard containing water-proofs; next to that a small table with various instruments mounted over it. She recognised the aneroid barometer and chronometer ... that must be the VHF radio ... echo-sounder? GPS?

She heard footsteps on the plank and went to the hatch. She saw a tall, slim, brown-haired young man step down into the cockpit and her anxiety peaked. "H ... hello?" She had forgotten what CC looked like, having been too nervous to really think about him, but right then she had no distractions other than her angst and something stirred in her.

"Hello, Pippa ... that's okay, isn't it? You don't mind me calling you that?"

"Oh ... no ... that's fine ... I mean..." she stumbled over her words and blushed; aware of that, she became even more embarrassed.

CC watched her reddening. Bashful himself, he knew how uncomfortable it was to face a new person in a new situation and his heart went out to her. "Are you hungry?"

"I..."

"Cherry apologises she wasn't here to meet you, but asked me to make sure you got something to eat."

Pippa couldn't, somehow, get words out. It was probably the first time a young man had said more than a couple of words to her; the first time she'd had to communicate outside of the classroom.

"There's bread and stuff here ... we could get a pub lunch, or we could walk along and get a burger or a hot dog and some chips?"

Pippa almost gasped out 'Sandwiches, here... '. However, her confusion delayed her long enough that her mind kicked in. 'This whole business is partly to break out of my ... I don't know ... I'm trapped, or ... I was trapped and I have this opportunity to escape ... or something.'

CC almost opened his mouth to say something more; perhaps to take the initiative and just tell her what they would do, but he saw her expression change and paused.

"Burger," she got out. "At least ... if you don't mind being seen with a fat, spotty teenage girl."

"You're not fat," his response was automatic, rather than reasoned, but later he was to think it was perfect. "Neither are you particularly spotty. I get spots too. And I'm a teenager as well." He paused, looking at her seriously for the first time. "Actually, I think I'd like to be seen with you."

His intent regard made her blush again, but she managed to say, "Let's go, then."

Either or both of them might have been uncomfortable. Pippa, at first, didn't know what to say and felt awkward. CC was surprised at how comfortable he felt with this girl. He chatted away, talking about the town and the river, characters and boats. She slowly began to respond and they found they had quite a lot in common, at least in the way of interests. As they were passing the lake, Pippa asked about a strange piping sound, almost like laughter.

"Little Grebe," CC told her, "Dabchick." He pointed out the small, dark-coloured water-bird that seemed to spend more time under the water than on it as they walked towards the refreshment kiosks.

"I don't know much about sea-birds," she commented, "but I like to watch the birds in our garden."

"I didn't until I got involved with the boats," CC told her, pulling a small book out of his pocket, "so I carry this around with me. I've got so I can identify most birds I see here."

They bought burgers, chips and coffee, and sat at a picnic bench to eat. Pippa perused the little book about birds, while CC perused his companion. 'Weird. Cherry is gorgeous, with that hair and perfect figure, but I can't seem to talk to her except about practical things. I daren't ask her for a date. But I'm really enjoying this time with Pippa. She's not really over-weight, just ... sort of soft, somehow. Actually, she's quite pretty. And ... easy to talk to. Fun. I think I might like to kiss her.'

Food eaten, coffee drunk (followed by Seven-Up and Fanta) and Pippa absently commented that an ice-cream would go down well. CC agreed with alacrity and, having obtained their preference in chilled confectionery, they were in no hurry to get back to the yacht and meandered along the prom past the playground. Somehow, they were chatting so easily they were hardly aware of time passing.