Cinderella: Hired by the Prince

by Marion Lennox

  ‘You need to understand…I’d been cooking on the docks since I was seventeen and people knew my food. Charlie’s café was struggling and he needed my help to keep it afloat. But the operation didn’t work. Matty died when he was two years, three months and five days old. I buried him and I went back to Charlie’s café and I’ve been there ever since.’

  ‘I am so sorry.’ Ramón was sitting back on his heels and watching her. She didn’t look up-she couldn’t. She kept right on scrubbing.

  The boat rocked gently on the swell. The sun shone down on the back of her neck and she was acutely aware of his gaze. So aware of his silence.

  ‘Charlie demanded that you leave your baby, for those hours in the last days of his life?’ he said at last, and she swallowed at that, fighting back regret that could never fade.

  ‘It was our deal.’ She hesitated. ‘You’ve seen the worst of Charlie. Time was when he was a decent human being. Before the drink took over. When he offered me a way out-I only saw the money. I guess I just trusted. And after I borrowed the money there was no way out.’

  ‘So where,’ he asked, in his soft, lilting accent that seemed to have warmth and sincerity built into it, ‘was Matty’s father?’

  ‘On the other side of the world, as far as I know,’ she said, and she blinked back self-pity and found herself smiling. ‘My Kieran. Or, rather, no one’s Kieran.’

  ‘You’re smiling?’ He sounded incredulous, as well he might.

  ‘Yes, that’s stupid. And yes, I was really stupid.’ Enough with the scrubbing-any more and she’d start taking off wood. She tossed her brush into the bucket and stood up, leaning against the rail and letting the sun comfort her. How to explain Kieran? ‘My father had just died, and I was bleak and miserable. Kieran came into port and he was just…alive. I met him on the wharf one night, we went dancing and I fell in love. Only even then I knew I wasn’t in love with Kieran. Not with the person. I was in love with what he represented. Happiness. Laughter. Life. At the end of a wonderful week he sailed away and two weeks later I discovered our precautions hadn’t worked. I emailed him to tell him. He sent me a dozen roses and a cheque for a termination. The next time I emailed, to tell him I was keeping our baby, there was no reply. There’s been no reply since.’

  ‘Do you mind?’ he said gently.

  ‘I mind that Kieran didn’t have a chance to meet his son,’ she said. ‘It was his loss. Matty was wonderful.’ She pulled herself together and managed to smile again. ‘But I’d imagine all mothers say that about their babies. Any minute now I’ll be tugging photographs out of my purse.’

  ‘It would be my privilege to see them.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘Why would I not?’

  Her smile faded. She searched his face and saw only truth.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, disconcerted. She was struggling to understand this man. She’d accepted this job suspecting he was another similar to Kieran, sailing the world to escape responsibility, only the more she saw of him the more she realized there were depths she couldn’t fathom.

  She had armour now to protect herself against the likes of Kieran. She knew she did-that was why she’d taken the job. But this man’s gentle sympathy and practical help were something new. She tried to imagine Kieran scrubbing a deck when he didn’t have to, and she couldn’t.

  ‘So where’s your family?’ she asked, too abruptly, and she watched his face close. Which was what she was coming to expect. He’d done this before to her, simply shutting himself off from her questions. She thought it was a method he’d learned from years of employing casual labour, setting boundaries and staying firmly behind them.

  Maybe that was reasonable, she conceded. Just because she’d stepped outside her personal boundaries, it didn’t mean he must.

  ‘Sorry. I’ll put the buckets away,’ she said, but he didn’t move and neither did she.

  ‘I don’t like talking of my family.’

  ‘That’s okay. That’s your right.’

  ‘You didn’t have to tell me about your son.’

  ‘Yes, but I like talking about Matty,’ she said. She thought about it. It wasn’t absolutely true. Or was it?

  She only talked about Matty to Cathy, to Susie, to those few people who’d known him. But still…

  ‘Talking about him keeps him real,’ she said, trying to figure it out as she spoke. ‘Keeping silent locks him in my heart and I’m scared he’ll shrivel. I want to be able to have him out there, to share him.’ She shrugged. ‘It makes no sense but there it is. Your family…you keep them where you need to have them. I’m sorry I intruded.’

  ‘I don’t believe you could ever intrude,’ he said, so softly she could hardly hear him. ‘But my story’s not so peaceful. My father died when I was seven. He and my grandfather…well, let’s just say they didn’t get on. My grandfather was what might fairly be described as a wealthy thug. He mistreated my grandmother appallingly, and finally my father thought to put things right by instigating legal proceedings. Only when it looked like my father and grandmother might win, my grandfather’s thugs bashed him-so badly he died.’

  ‘Oh, Ramón,’ she whispered, appalled.

  ‘It’s old history,’ he said in a voice that told her it wasn’t. It still had the power to hurt. ‘Nothing could ever be proved, so we had to move on as best we could. But my grandmother never got over it. She died when I was ten, and then my mother and my sister were killed in a car accident when I was little more than a teenager. So that’s my family. Or, rather, that was my family. I have an aunt I love, but that’s all.’

  ‘So you don’t have a home,’ she said softly.

  ‘The sea makes a wonderful mistress.’

  ‘She’s not exactly cuddly,’ Jenny retorted before she thought it through, and then she heard what she’d said and she could have kicked herself. But it seemed her tongue was determined to keep her in trouble. ‘I mean… Well, the sea. A mistress? Wouldn’t you rather have a real one?’

  His lips twitched. ‘You’re asking why don’t I have a woman?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that at all,’ she said, astounded at herself. ‘If you don’t choose to…’

  But she stopped herself there. She was getting into deeper water at every word and she was floundering.

  ‘Would you rate yourself as cuddly?’ he asked, a slight smile still playing round his mouth, and she felt herself colouring from the toes up. She’d walked straight into that one.

  He thoroughly disconcerted her. It was as if there was some sort of connection between them, like an electric current that buzzed back and forth, no matter how she tried to subdue it.

  She had to subdue it. Ramón was her boss. She had to maintain a working relationship with him for a year.

  ‘No. No!’ She shook her head so hard the tie came loose and her curls went flying every which way. ‘Of course I’m not cuddly. I got myself in one horrible mess with Kieran, and I’m not going down that path again, thank you very much.’

  ‘So maybe the sea is to be your partner in life, too?’

  ‘I don’t want a partner,’ she said with asperity. ‘I don’t need one, thank you very much. You’re very welcome to your sea, Mr Cavellero, but I’ll stick to cooking, sailing and occasional scrubbing. What more could a woman want? It sounds like relationships, for both of us, are a thing of the past.’ And then she paused. She stared out over Ramón’s shoulder. ‘Oh!’ She put her hand up to shade her eyes. ‘Oh, Ramón, look!’

  Ramón wheeled to see what she was seeing, and he echoed her gasp.

  They’d been too intent on each other to notice their surroundings-the sea was clear to the horizon so there was no threat, but suddenly there was a great black mound, floating closer and closer to the Marquita. On the far side of the mound was another, much smaller.

  The smaller mound was gliding through the water, surfacing and diving, surfacing and diving. The big mound lay still, like a massive log, three-quarters submerged.

&
nbsp; ‘Oh,’ Jenny gasped, trying to take in what she was seeing. ‘It’s a whale and its calf. But why…’

  Why was the larger whale so still?

  They were both staring out to starboard now. Ramón narrowed his eyes, then swore and made his way swiftly aft. He retrieved a pair of field glasses, focused and swore again.

  ‘She’s wrapped in a net.’ He flicked off the autopilot. ‘Jenny, we’re coming about.’

  The boat was already swinging. Jenny dropped her buckets and moved like lightning, reefing in the main with desperate haste so the boom wouldn’t slam across with the wind shift.

  Even her father wouldn’t have trusted her to move so fast, she thought, as she winched in the stays with a speed even she hadn’t known was possible. Ramón expected the best of her and she gave it.

  But Ramón wasn’t focused on her. All his attention was on the whale. With the sails in place she could look again at what was in front of her. And what she saw… She drew in her breath in distress.

  The massive whale-maybe fifty feet long or more-was almost completely wrapped in a damaged shark net. Jenny had seen these nets. They were set up across popular beaches to keep swimmers safe, but occasionally whales swam in too close to shore and became entangled, or swam into a net that had already been dislodged.

  The net was enfolding her almost completely, with a rope as thick as Jenny’s wrist tying her from head to tail, forcing her to bend. As the Marquita glided past, Jenny saw her massive pectoral fins were fastened uselessly to her sides. She was rolling helplessly in the swell.

  Dead?

  No. Just as she thought it, the creature gave a massive shudder. She was totally helpless, and by her side her calf swam free, but helpless as well in the shadow of her mother’s entrapment.

  ‘Dios,’ she whispered. It was the age-old plea she’d learned from her mother, and she heard the echo of it from Ramón’s lips.

  ‘It’s a humpback,’ she said in distress. ‘The net’s wrapped so tight it’s killing her. What can we do?’

  But Ramón was already moving. ‘We get the sails down and start the motor,’ he said. ‘The sails won’t give us room to manoeuvre. Gianetta, I need your help. Fast.’

  He had it. The sails were being reefed in almost before he finished speaking, as the motor hummed seamlessly into life.

  He pushed it into low gear so the sound was a low hum. The last thing either of them wanted was to panic the whale. As it was, the calf was moving nervously away from them, so the mother was between it and the boat.

  ‘If she panics there’s nothing we can do,’ Jenny said grimly. ‘Can we get near enough to cut?’

  They couldn’t. Ramón edged the Marquita close, the big whale rolled a little, the swell separated them and Jenny knew they could never simply reach out and cut.

  ‘Can we call someone?’ she said helplessly. ‘There’s whale rescue organisations. Maybe they could come out.’

  ‘We’re too far from land,’ Ramón said. ‘It’s us or no one.’

  No one, Jenny thought as they tried one more pass. It was hopeless. For them to cut the net the whale had to be right beside the boat. With the lurching of the swell there was no way they could steer the boat alongside and keep her there.

  How else to help? To get into the water and swim, then cling and cut was far, far too risky. Jenny was a good swimmer but…

  ‘It’s open water, the job’s too big, there’s no way I could count on getting back into the boat,’ Ramón said, and she knew he was thinking the same.

  ‘You would do it if you could?’ she asked, incredulous.

  ‘If I knew it’d be effective. But do you think she’s going to stay still while I cut? If she rolled, if I was pushed under and caught…’

  As if on cue, the whale rolled again. Her massive pectoral fins were fastened hard against her, so a sideways roll was all she could do. She blew-a spray of water misted over Jenny’s face, but Jenny’s face was wet anyway.

  ‘We can’t leave her like this,’ she whispered. ‘We have to try.’

  ‘We do,’ Ramón said. ‘Jenny, are you prepared to take a risk?’

  There was no question. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, reaching under the seat near the wheel and hauling out life jackets. ‘Here’s the plan. We put these on. We unfasten the life raft in case worst comes to worst and we let the authorities know what’s happening. We radio in our position, we tell them what we intend to do and if they don’t hear back from us then they’ll know we’re sitting in a life raft in the middle of the Pacific. We’re wearing positional locators anyway. We should be fine.’

  ‘What…what are we intending to do?’ Jenny asked faintly.

  ‘Pull the boat up beside the whale,’ he said. ‘If you’re brave enough.’

  She stared at him, almost speechless. How could he get so close? And, even if he did, if the whale rolled… ‘You’d risk the boat?’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes.’ Unequivocal.

  ‘Could we be sure of rescue?’

  ‘I’ll set it up so we would be,’ he said. ‘I’m not risking our lives here. Only our boat and the cost of marine rescue.’

  ‘Marine rescue… It’d cost a fortune.’

  ‘Jenny, we’re wasting time. Yes or no?’

  She looked out at the whale. Left alone, she’d die, dreadfully, agonisingly and, without her, her calf would slowly starve to death as well.

  Ramón was asking her to risk all. She looked at him and he met her gaze, levelly and calmly.

  ‘Gianetta, she’s helpless,’ he said. ‘I believe at some subliminal level she’ll understand we’re trying to help and she won’t roll towards us. But you know I can’t guarantee that. There’s a small chance we may end up sitting in a lifeboat for the next few hours waiting to be winched to safety. But I won’t do it unless I have your agreement. It’s not my risk, Gianetta. It’s our risk.’

  Our risk.

  She thought about what he was asking-what he was doing. He’d have to explain to his owner that he’d lost his boat to save a whale. He’d lose his job at the very least. Maybe he’d be up for massive costs, for the boat and for rescue.

  She looked at him and she saw it meant nothing.

  He was free, she thought, with a sudden stab of something that could almost be jealousy. There was the whale to be saved. He’d do what needed to be done without thinking of the future.

  Life… That was all that mattered, she thought suddenly, and with it came an unexpected lifting of the dreariness of the last couple of years. She’d fought long and hard for Matty. She’d lost but she’d had him and she’d loved him and she’d worried about the cost later.

  She looked out at the whale and she knew there was only one answer to give.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes to stick a ration pack in the life raft. If I’m going to float around for a day or so waiting for rescue flights then I want at least two bottles of champagne and some really good cheeses while I’m waiting.’

  Jenny didn’t have a clue what Ramón intended, but when she saw she was awed. With his safeguards in place, he stood on the highest point of the boat with a small anchor-one he presumably used in shallow waters when lowering the massive main anchor would potentially damage the sea bed.

  This anchor was light enough for a man to hold. Or, rather, for Ramón to hold, Jenny corrected herself. It still looked heavy. But Ramón stood with the anchor attached by a long line and he held it as if it was no weight at all, while Jenny nosed the boat as close to the whale as she dared. Ramón swung the anchor round and round, in wider and wider circles, and then he heaved with every ounce of strength he had.

  The whale was maybe fifteen feet from the boat. The anchor flew over the far side of her and slid down. As it slid, Ramón was already striding aft, a far more secure place to manoeuvre, and he was starting to tug the rope back in.

  ‘Cut the motor,’ he snapped. She did, and finally she realized what he was doing.

/>   The anchor had fallen on the far side of the whale. As Ramón tugged, the anchor was being hauled up the whale’s far side. Its hooks caught the ropes of the net and held, and suddenly Ramón was reeling in the anchor with whale attached. Or, rather, the Marquita was being reeled in against the whale, and the massive creature was simply submitting.

  Jenny was by Ramón’s side in an instant, pulling with him. Boat and whale moved closer. Closer still.

  ‘Okay, hold her as close as you can,’ Ramón said curtly as the whale’s vast body came finally within an arm’s length. ‘If she pulls, you let go. No heroics, Gianetta, just do it. But keep tension on the rope so I’ll know as soon as I have it free.’

  Ramón had a lifeline clipped on. He was leaning over the side, with a massive gutting knife in his hand. Reaching so far Jenny was sure he’d fall.

  The whale could roll this way, she thought wildly, and if she did he could be crushed. He was supporting himself on the whale itself, his legs still on the boat, but leaning so far over he was holding onto the netting. Slicing. Slicing. As if the danger was nothing.

  She tugged on. If the whale pulled away, she’d have to release her. They’d lose the anchor. They had this one chance. Please…

  But the whale didn’t move, except for the steady rise and fall of the swell, where Jenny had to let out, reel in, let out, reel in, to try and keep Ramón’s base steady against her.

  He was slicing and slicing and slicing, swearing and slicing some more, until suddenly the tension on Jenny’s rope was no longer there. The anchor lifted free, the net around the whale’s midriff dislodged. Jenny, still pulling, was suddenly reeling in a mass of netting and an anchor.

  And Ramón was back in the boat, pulling with her.

  One of the whale’s fins was free. The whale moved it a little, stretching, and she floated away. Not far. Twenty feet, no more.

  The whale stilled again. One fin was not enough. She was still trapped.

  On the far side of her, her calf nudged closer.

  ‘Again,’ Ramón said grimly as Jenny gunned the motor back into action and nosed close. He was already on top of the cabin, swinging the anchor rope once more. ‘If she’ll let us.’