handles of the others, then walked slowly down the wharf towards my berth. Good legs, I thought appreciatively, very good legs. I could tell, for she was wearing shorts. A lovely body, really. I thought how wonderful that body would look in a bikini. The girl had short black hair and a suntanned skin and, as she came closer, a very nice smile.
“You might have helped me, you bastard,” she said in greeting.
I nonchalantly waved the beer can. “I was watching you, and thinking what a very satisfactory crewperson you are.”
“And one day you’ll make a satisfactory galley slave.” She tossed the string bags into my lap. “They actually had American lettuce at that nice little shop. It was horribly expensive, but I couldn’t resist it, so that means we can have a proper salad at last. And I bought a very weird vegetable, I haven’t a clue what it is, but that lovely lady who laughs every time she sees you says that you cut it in half, scoop out the pulp, and eat it raw. Oh, and you peel it as well.” Jennifer, Countess of Stowey, stepped down into the cockpit and gratefully collapsed into the shade under the awning. “I left the two heavy bags at the end of the wharf,” she added, “and you can go and fetch them.”
“Did you buy my tobacco?”
“Of course I bought your tobacco, you horrible man. Oh, and there was a letter at the General Delivery. Mummy and Daddy are going to Antigua and would love to see us. They’ve taken a house there and we can have a proper bath.” She closed her eyes in pretended ecstasy. “A proper bath!”
“Unfortunately,” I said, “the winds are entirely wrong for going to Antigua.”
“The winds,” Jennifer said firmly, “could not be better. And Mummy’s bringing Georgina.” Sister Felicity had died, but somehow Helen, Lady Buzzacott, had gained Georgina’s confidence. Georgina was hugely improved. She had her own horse at Lovelace House and that therapy, together with Helen’s friendship, had given her great happiness.
The cause of my own immediate happiness took the beer can from my hand and drank what was left of it. “Now go and get the groceries,” she ordered me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jenny still has some scars, but, except for those on her hands, you have to know her very well to find them, and I don’t have any intention of anyone but me knowing my wife that well. Sir Leon would like her to go back to Switzerland for more cosmetic surgery on her hands, but I’ve said no, not till our year’s cruise is over, and Sir Leon is learning that an earl outranks a mere knight. Not that he minds, because he has his picture. The Stowey Sunflowers hang in his gallery and one day I’ll go and see them again, but not yet. I have a wife, and a boat, and a great happiness, though sometimes, when I look up to find a star among the million points of light, I remember a friend and his laughter, and I wonder just how it all went so wrong.
But things go right, too. It’s called love, and even if it does mean eating salad sometimes, it works. And
