I listened quietly as the two of them discussed her imminent plans for a week in the South of France and then a few days in Italy towards the end of the month. It was obvious from the easy way they spoke together that they completely adored each other.
After an hour or so, Theo drained his second cup of coffee and looked reluctantly at his watch. ‘I’m afraid we have to be off, Mum.’
‘Really? Won’t you stay for a spot of lunch? I can knock together a little salad for us, it’s really no trouble.’
‘I’m afraid not. We’ve got a full crew meeting aboard the Tigress at five and it’d be rather poor form if the captain were late. So we’re aiming to catch the twelve thirty train from Waterloo.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll just nip to the bathroom and I’ll see you both out in the hall.’
‘It’s been so good to meet you, Ally,’ Celia said after Theo left the kitchen. ‘When he told me that you were “the one”, I was understandably nervous. He’s my only child and is everything to me. But I can see now that you’re perfectly matched.’
‘Thank you for saying that. We’re very happy,’ I said with a smile.
As we rose from the table and made our way to the hall, she reached out her hand and placed it on my arm. ‘Take care of him, won’t you? He’s never seemed to understand danger.’
‘I’ll do my best, Celia.’
‘I—’
She was about to say more, when Theo reappeared beside us.
‘Bye, Mum. I’ll call you, but don’t worry if you don’t hear from me during race week.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ Celia replied with a catch in her voice. ‘And I’ll be there to cheer you on at the finish line in Plymouth.’
I moved away towards the front door, not wishing to intrude on their goodbye, but I couldn’t help noticing how Celia hugged him as if she couldn’t bear to let him go. Eventually, Theo gently extricated himself, and she waved us off with a forced smile as we left the house.
On the train journey down to Southampton, Theo seemed distracted and unusually quiet.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked him as he gazed pensively out of the window.
‘I’m just worried about Mum, that’s all. She didn’t seem herself today. She’s never normally so gloomy; usually sends me off with a bright smile and a quick hug.’
‘She obviously adores you.’
‘And I her. She’s made me everything I am, and has always championed my sailing. Maybe she is just getting old,’ he concluded with a shrug. ‘And of course, I doubt she’ll ever get over my father and their divorce.’
‘Does she still love him, do you think?’
‘Almost certainly, although that doesn’t necessarily mean that she likes him. How could she? When she found out about his string of affairs, she was beyond devastated. Poor Mum was so humiliated that even though it broke her heart, she asked him to leave.’
‘God, how awful.’
‘Yes, it is. Of course, Dad still adores her deep down too. They’re both miserable apart, but I suppose there’s always a thin line between love and hate. Maybe it’s like living with an alcoholic: at some point, you have to make the decision between losing the person you love and your own sanity. And no one can save us from ourselves, however much they love us, can they?’
‘No, they can’t.’
Theo grasped my hand suddenly. ‘Never let the same happen to us, will you, Ally?’
‘Never,’ I replied fervently.
The next ten days were – as always before a race – frenetic, tense and exhausting, made more so by the Fastnet’s reputation as one of the toughest and most technically demanding races in the world. Regulations stated that 50 per cent of the crew must have completed 300 miles of offshore racing together within the past twelve months. On the first evening, as Theo gathered all twenty crew members together on the Tigress, I realised I was far less experienced than most of them. While Theo was well known for nurturing young talent and had included the crew from the Cyclades regatta, he was obviously taking no chances and had hand-picked the rest from amongst the crème de la crème of the international sailing fraternity.
The route was exacting and dangerous, taking in the south coast of England before crossing the Celtic Sea to Fastnet Rock on the coast of Ireland and then sailing back to finish in Plymouth. Strong westerly and south westerly winds, treacherous currents and notoriously unpredictable weather systems had put paid to many a boat’s chances in previous races. And as we were all too aware, there’d been a number of fatalities over the years. No crew that entered approached the Fastnet lightly, least of all one like ours whose aim was to win.
We rose with the dawn each day and spent hours on the water, repeating the necessary manoeuvres over and over, testing the capabilities of both the crew and the superb state-of-the-art boat to their limits. During some training sessions, even though I could see that Theo was becoming frustrated when a member was not playing the ‘team game’ as he called it, he never once lost his cool. Over dinner each evening, strategy and tactics for every part of the race were discussed and refined endlessly, with Theo having the final say.
As well as actual sailing practice, we had several in-depth safety briefings and drills using the sophisticated safety equipment aboard and we were all issued with an EPIRB, a personal transmitter, to attach to our life vests. Even when we weren’t under sail, the crew worked tirelessly on the boat, meticulously going over every last detail under Theo’s watchful eye, from checking the kit inventory, to testing the pumps and winches, to rigging and checking the full sail wardrobe. Theo, amongst his many other duties as captain, allocated the bunks and a watch rotation system.
Thanks to his inspired leadership, esprit de corps was riding high by the time we received our final pep talk from him the night before the start of the race on 12th August. And each and every member of the crew stood up and cheered him.
We were now fully prepared. The only fly in the ointment was the appalling weather forecast for the next few days.
‘I have to go to the Royal Ocean Racing Club now for the skippers’ briefing, sweetheart,’ Theo said to me with a quick peck on the cheek as the rest of the crew began to disperse. ‘You go back to our hotel and take a long, hot bath. It’s the last one you’re going to get for a while.’
I did so, trying my best to enjoy the luxury of piping-hot water, but when I later looked out of the window, I saw the way the wind had picked up and was roaring in over the harbour, violently buffeting the two hundred and seventy one boats gathered in it and around the island. My stomach suddenly lurched. It was the last thing we needed and Theo’s face was sombre when he joined me later in our hotel room.
‘What news?’ I asked him.
‘All bad, I’m afraid. As we already knew, the forecast is dire, and they’re even thinking they might have to put off the start of the race tomorrow. There’s a severe weather warning out for gale-force winds. To be honest, Ally, it couldn’t be worse.’
He sat down looking totally deflated and I went over to him and massaged his shoulders.
‘Theo, you have to remember that it’s only a race.’
‘I know, but to win this would be the pinnacle of my career so far. I’m thirty-five, Ally, and I can’t keep doing this forever. Damn it!’ he said as he thumped the arm of the chair with his fist. ‘Why this year?’
‘Well, let’s see what tomorrow brings. Weather forecasts are often wrong.’
‘But the reality isn’t,’ he sighed, indicating the darkening skies outside. ‘Anyway, you’re right, there’s nothing I can do. They’re going to telephone all the skippers tomorrow morning at eight o’clock to let us know whether they’ll delay the start. So it’s my turn for a hot bath and an early night.’
‘I’ll go and run you one.’
‘Thanks. And Ally?’
‘Yes?’ I turned as I walked towards the bathroom.
Theo smiled at me. ‘I love you.’
As he’d feared, the race was delayed for the first ti
me in its eighty-three-year history. The crew sat glumly together over lunch at the Royal London Yacht Club, each one of us watching the skies through the window and hoping for a miracle. Another decision would be made first thing in the morning, so after lunch, Theo and I traipsed despondently back to our hotel on the harbour.
‘It will clear up eventually, Theo, it always does.’
‘Ally, I’ve been on every possible internet site, not to mention contacting the meteorological centre personally, and it looks like there’s a depression that’s set in for the next few days. Even if we do manage to start the race, it’s going to be unbelievably tough to make it to the finish. Anyway’ – he looked at me and grinned suddenly – ‘at least there’s time for another hot bath.’
We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant together that Sunday evening, both of us feeling tense and unsettled. Theo even allowed himself a glass of wine, something he’d never normally do the night before a race, and we returned to our room a little calmer than when we’d left. He made love to me that night with particular urgency and passion; afterwards, he collapsed onto the pillows and pulled me into his arms.
Just as we were drifting off to sleep, I heard him say, ‘Ally?’
‘Yes?’
‘If all goes well tomorrow, we’ll be off. But it’s going to be rough. I’m just reminding you now of the promise you made to me on “Somewhere”. If I tell you I want you off the boat, you’ll obey my orders as a skipper.’
‘Theo, I—’
‘Seriously, Ally, I can’t put you aboard tomorrow unless I’m confident you’ll do as you’re told.’
‘Then yes,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘You’re my captain. I have to do as I’m told.’
‘And before you say it again, it’s not because you’re a woman, or that I doubt your proficiency in any way. It’s because I love you.’
‘I know.’
‘Good. Sleep well, my love.’
The news came through early the next morning that the Fastnet Race would begin – a full twenty-five hours after the planned start. Having contacted the crew, Theo left for the boat immediately and I could see he was already focused and re-energised.
An hour later, I joined him with the rest of the crew aboard the Tigress. Even in the harbour, the boats were rocking perilously from side to side as the wind and waves battered them.
‘Christ, and to think I could be skippering a luxury chartered yacht around the Caribbean right now,’ muttered Rob, as we heard the gunfire to signal the start and waited tensely for our turn to leave the harbour. As we did so, Theo mustered us all on deck for a ‘bon voyage’ photo.
Even the most seasoned sailors among us looked slightly green as we finally left the protection of the harbour. The extreme seas, swirled into a foaming frenzy by the wind, soaked each and every one of us in seconds.
Throughout the turbulent eight hours that followed, as the wind continued to gather pace, Theo remained calm, his balance rarely faltering as he helmed the boat through the wild water, issuing an almost constant stream of orders to keep us on course and maintain our speed. The sails were reefed and unreefed a dozen times as we negotiated the fiercely unpredictable conditions, including forty-knot squalls that seemed to blow up out of nowhere. And all the time, the slanting rain pounded down on us relentlessly.
Two of us had been assigned to galley duties that first day. We tried heating soup, but even using the gimballed stove which was designed to hold the pots level, the pitching of the boat was so violent that the contents still sloshed everywhere, scalding us on more than one occasion, so we resorted to microwaving some of the precooked ration packs. The crew came down in shifts, shivering in their race gear and too exhausted to remove it for the short time they were eating. But their looks of gratitude reminded me that in a race, the domestic tasks were equally as important as what went on above deck.
Theo was in the last shift to eat and as he wolfed his food down, he told me there were a number of vessels that had already decided to take shelter in various ports along the south coast of England.
‘It’s going to be a lot worse when we leave the Channel and we’re out in the Celtic Sea. Especially in the dark,’ he said as he looked at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock in the evening and the light was beginning to fade.
‘What does everyone else think?’ I asked him.
‘They’re all for going on. And I think the boat can take it—’
At that moment, we were both thrown off the benches as the Tigress gave a huge lurch to starboard and I yelped as the edge of the table dug sharply into my stomach. Theo – the man who I’d genuinely believed could walk on water – was now picking himself up from the floor.
‘Okay, that’s it,’ he said as he saw me double over in pain. ‘As you said, it’s only a race. We’re going into port.’
And before I could say anything, he was climbing the stairs to the deck two at a time.
An hour later, Theo helmed us into Weymouth harbour. All of us were soaked to the skin despite our high-tech weather-proof clothing, and completely exhausted. Once we’d anchored, taken down the sails and checked all the equipment for damage, Theo called us into the main cabin. We sat slumped wherever there was room in our orange race gear, looking like half-dead lobsters caught in a fisherman’s net.
‘It’s too dangerous to carry on tonight, and I won’t put any of your lives at risk. However, the good news is that nearly all the other boats in contention have already taken shelter, so we might still have an outside chance. Ally and Mick are going to cook some pasta for later and in the meantime, you can all take a shower in the order on the rota. As soon as the sun rises, we’re off again. Someone put the kettle on so we can make some tea to warm up. We’re going to need all our wits about us come the morning.’
Mick and I staggered to our feet and headed towards the galley. As we loaded a large pan with pasta and warmed the ready-made sauce, Mick made us cups of tea and I sipped mine gratefully, imagining the warmth flowing all the way into my cold toes.
‘It could do with a splash of something stronger,’ Mick said with a grin. ‘You can understand why the sailors of old lived on rum, can’t you?’
‘Hey, Al, you’re next for the shower,’ called Rob.
‘Don’t worry, I’m fine to miss my turn and go later.’
‘Good man,’ he said appreciatively. ‘I’ll pretend to be you.’
Never had my dubious culinary skills been more appreciated than they were that night. Soon after we’d eaten and washed up the plastic bowls, everyone started dispersing to sleep while they could. As the boat wasn’t designed for so many crew to sleep at the same time, people were arranging themselves on the benches or rolling themselves up in their lightweight sleeping bags on the floor.
I went to take my shower, wondering whether the freezing cold water, which was all that was left at the end of the queue, made me feel better or worse. I emerged to find Theo waiting for me outside.
‘Ally, I need to talk to you.’ He took me by the hand and pulled me through the now dimmed cabin full of inert bodies and into the tiny space crammed with navigation equipment that he called his ‘office’. He made me sit down and took my hands in his.
‘Ally, do you believe I love you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘And do you believe I think that you’re an incredible sailor?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I gave him a quizzical half-smile. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not taking you any further in the race. There’s a dinghy coming to collect you in a few minutes. You’re booked in to a bed and breakfast on the harbour. Sorry,’ he said. ‘I just can’t.’
‘Can’t what?’
‘Risk it. The forecast is appalling, and I’ve already spoken to several other skippers who are talking of retiring. I think the Tigress can go on, but I simply can’t have you on her. Do you understand?’
‘No. I don’t. Why me? Why not the others?’ I protested.
‘Please, darl
ing, you know why. And’ – he paused before he continued – ‘if you want to know the truth, it makes it far harder for me to concentrate and get on with the job at hand while you’re aboard.’
I stared at him in shock and bewilderment. ‘I . . . Please let me stay, Theo,’ I begged him.
‘Not this time, no. We have many more races to run together, sweetheart. And a lot won’t involve water. Let’s not jeopardise those.’
‘But why is it okay for you to continue when you’re so worried about me doing the same? If other boats are thinking of retiring, then why won’t you?’ My anger was beginning to smoulder as his devastating announcement sank into my brain.
‘Because this race has always been my destiny, Ally. I simply can’t let everyone down. Right, you’d better pack up your kit. Your ride will be here any minute.’
‘But what about me letting everyone down? What about me letting you down?’ I said, wanting to shout at him but aware of the sleeping crew nearby. ‘I’m meant to be your protectress!’
‘You’ll certainly be letting me down if you continue to argue with me,’ he said sharply. ‘Collect your things. Now. That’s an order from your captain. Please obey it.’
‘Yes, skipper,’ I replied petulantly, knowing I must accept defeat. But as I went to retrieve my rucksack, I was furious with Theo for all sorts of confused reasons. Climbing up onto the deck, I saw the lights of the dinghy approaching across the harbour and went aft to let the ladder down.
Fully intending to leave without saying another word to Theo, I caught the painter that was thrown by the dinghy’s skipper and secured it to one of the deck cleats as he drew alongside. I’d just mounted the ladder to climb down, when a torch flashed on my face from above.
‘You’re staying at The Warwick Guesthouse,’ came Theo’s voice.
‘Right,’ I said flatly, throwing my rucksack into the listing dinghy and taking another step down, before a hand grasped my arm and he pulled me back towards him.
‘Ally, for God’s sake, I love you. I love you . . .’ he murmured as he folded me into his arms, my toes teetering on the top rung of the ladder. ‘Never forget that, will you?’
The Storm Sister Page 12