Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Five years ago

The superyacht Island Queen gives one last burst of the aft thrusters as deckhands leap around the stern, throwing lines and tying them off on cleats on the dock. The week-long charter has been full on, lovely guests but they were very high energy and wanted all the activities and parties she could cram into those seven days.

Freedom, the chance to rest and relax for the next two days, is within her grasp and she can almost taste it. It’s even better than usual because today is her birthday and she’ll be able to go out with the rest of the crew and celebrate, rather than handing other people glasses of champagne.

She lines up in her ‘whites’ with the rest of the crew and bids the guests a sunny farewell, but maybe she’s a little more distracted than normal, because she can’t help glancing down the dock to see who might walk their way.

It’s silly, really. He said he wouldn’t be able to get away to visit because of the new job he’s started with a well-respected ad agency, but before that, he was so insistent he’d make it out to see her sometime soon. Even though he’s gone a little bit quiet on the subject, she’s secretly hoping it’s just a ruse to throw her off the scent. It would be just like him to fly in and make the day magical.

Once they’ve waved the guests off, she’s got plenty to keep her busy. The chief stew likes to get the boat turned around straight away after the guests leave so they can relax properly on their days off, knowing it’s all done, so Erin’s on ‘beds and heads’, stripping off sheets and wielding toilet brushes, until the interior looks exactly like the glossy photos in the boat’s brochure.

She’s just smoothing down the last set of sheets and arranging the pillows ‘just so’ when a deckhand raps on the door. ‘Someone’s here for you.’

Her heart almost stops. But then, before the deckhand can say anything else, she’s practically shoving past him to race aft, where the passerelle is extended to allow people to walk between dock and boat.

The first thing she sees when she arrives on deck is the most massive bouquet of exotic flowers she’s ever seen, so huge that it’s completely hiding the man carrying it. She rushes towards him, hardly able to wait until he climbs the short flight of steps leading to the main deck and turns to lay them on the large outdoor dining table.

‘Erin Ross?’

Her pulse skips but her stomach nosedives. It’s an English accent but is it …?

Oh.

It’s not him. Just a delivery guy, who’s looking rather perplexed. He’s probably not used to seeing recipients of flowers like this looking as if they might burst into tears. And it’s not as if they’re not stunning. It’s just …

‘That’s me,’ she says, smiling as brightly as she is able. ‘They’re beautiful.’

The guy nods and jogs back down the stairs and she’s left to manhandle the massive arrangement through the narrow passages. Where on earth is she going to put it? It can’t go in her tiny cabin. Marisol would lose the plot.

In the end, she plonks it on the table in the crew mess – she’ll find a permanent spot later – and then takes out the small card tucked within the foliage and opens it. A typed message says Happy Birthday, Erin! And the surprises aren’t over yet. Be ready at 2 p.m. – a car is coming to pick you up. Si x.

A car! Hope bursts through her like a flamethrower once again as she dashes off to her cabin to find something to wear. It needs to be summery but not too floaty, a little sophisticated without trying too hard. And she’s got to find the perfect dress and be ready to go in … she checks her watch. Argh! Thirty-five minutes! And she’s got to find the captain first to get permission to go ashore a little earlier than planned.

She just about makes it. At one fifty-eight, she is standing at the marina’s reception when a sleek black car arrives and a driver steps out and opens the door for her. She peers inside, hoping someone is already occupying the back seat, but finds it empty, so she slides onto the pale leather and folds her hands in her lap. ‘A car’ he’d written, and this certainly was a car, but she’d expected a taxi, not something like this.

Half an hour later, the car stops outside a jeweller’s in Nassau. The driver opens the door for her and hands her another small white envelope. I wish I could be there with you, but I wanted to do something special. Inside, the jeweller is waiting with a selection of earrings. Choose whichever pair you like best. Simon x

Twin emotions tug her in different directions: disappointment that Simon had been telling the truth all along about not being able to get off work, and mushy, fuzzy feelings that he’s made her feel so taken care of.

She chooses a delicate pair of studs from the selection, three strands of gold woven into a knot, and presses them into her ears the minute she is in the car back to the marina. No, she decides, as the car leaves the city centre and heads back towards the coast, she doesn’t just feel taken care of. Simon’s thoughtfulness has made her feel like a princess.