Objects of Desire

  Rab Nesnet, captain of Black Orchid, was never surprised by anything that Piers Hazlit asked him to do. He always rose to the occasion. Even more than that, he responded with enthusiasm. Piers was an adventurer, Rab had always been a soldier of fortune, together they had been a good team now for nearly ten years. But this! Training three inexperienced women to sail the Atlantic with only four months in which to learn … not only had he thought Piers mad, he considered him out of line in asking Rab to take on such a boring and impossible task. Rab, of whom the term male chauvinist would have been a flattering description, liked his women off boats and in bed, the kitchen or a whore house.

  Now, after ten days with Sally and Anoushka, he was not so sure Piers had gone mad. Of the two, it was Anoushka who was the greater surprise. Rab had thrown every menial task that had to be done on Black Orchid to the women. It was rise and shine at five in the morning and work until they fell into a dead sleep at nine in the evening. Not once did they flinch or complain or deliver less than the best of themselves. This was no lark; they intended with every fibre of their being to make that crossing.

  Rab Nesnet had the sea in his blood; his father had been a captain, his grandfather and his father before him, all Massachusetts men of the oceans, whalers and fishermen, later shippers and owning shipping companies. He had sailed solo at the age of six, and travelled the oceans and the seas of the world from the time he was a teenager. From all the men he had come across at sea, he had learned one thing: there were those who had a feel for the sea and the sail, who knew the winds, how to pit themselves and their craft against those two great untamable forces. Anoushka had the sensibilities of a keen sailor. Every question she asked, the way she took to the charts and navigation, used the instruments, indicated that. After ten days Rab understood what Piers had seen in these women to have loaned them Black Orchid. They had adventure in their souls, and courage to break out and fulfil a dream. Having been handed a chance to make their wish come true, they had grabbed it in both hands. And for that alone they had to be admired.

  In two days’ time they would sail for Hydra to pick up Page. From there he had planned a voyage, one he liked to make, through the Greek islands along the coast of Turkey. It was tricky. Hot, dry winds blew in from Africa, and they were difficult seas. A terrific training ground. He would give them the benefit of doubt and make his judgement in four months’ time. For the moment he’d decided he liked his protégées, and was believing more daily in their ability to achieve the crossing. He was keen to see what they could do, and dared to think that they just might make it.

  ‘I’m giving us all twenty-four hours’ leave,’ he announced to his crew which now included Anoushka and Sally. ‘We’ll kick off with lunch ashore.’

  The morning after Hadon had seen Anoushka, Akito was pouring his breakfast coffee and Hadon was scanning the bay and Black Orchid through a pair of powerful binoculars, something he did every morning.

  ‘And was she there this morning?’ he asked.

  ‘No, the other lady was there.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hadon lowered the binoculars and placed them on the table. ‘And what’s she like?’

  ‘Very pretty.’

  ‘And you speak to her too?’

  ‘No. She says “good morning”, that’s all.’

  The following morning at breakfast Hadon made the same inquiries, Akito’s answers were the same. On the third morning after Hadon had seen Anoushka, the questions and answers were the same. By the fourth morning he had lost interest as to whether or not Anoushka had appeared at the bakery. He posed no questions to Akito. He knew where Anoushka was and he could find her whenever he wanted to, if indeed he ever did want to. But Akito surprised him.

  ‘Your lady.’

  ‘What lady?’

  ‘The lady in the boulangerie.’

  ‘Oh, that lady.’

  ‘I saw her this morning.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘They’re going to lunch at Stephano’s, captain’s treat. The entire crew has twenty-four hours’ leave. It’s a reward for their hard work, and because they’re sailing: a practice cruise, the Greek islands.’ He smiled knowingly at Hadon and then walked away.

  Hadon’s immediate reaction to this news was that he would miss the sight of Black Orchid in the bay. The luxury of watching anything as beautiful as that schooner leaving in full sail for a day’s cruising, or returning with a setting sun for a backdrop, was something he would miss. It was as if his best neighbour was going off on holiday.

  Another ten days, two weeks at the most, and he would be free of his book. He might take Easy Rider, his own boat, on a cruise. The sixty-footer was no Black Orchid but Hadon knew how to get the best out of her. Sailing her had always given him enormous pleasure. He looked at her now, moored one side of his wooden dock, the speed boat on the other side. The idea spurred him to get on with his day.

  Three hours later, during his coffee break, he surprised even himself when he jogged up to the house to tell Akito, ‘I’m lunching out. Call Stephano and tell him to save me a place. My usual table, I’m dining alone. I’d like a cold supper later. Leave it set up in the kitchen. Flowers on the table, Chablis, and place settings for two. Take the evening out if you like. And do me the courtesy of wiping that smile off your face!’

  ‘Shall I take a car out?’ asked Akito, trying to hide his surprise and amusement at this break in the working schedule, almost unheard of for Hadon.

  ‘No. I’ll take the power boat.’

  After coffee, Hadon returned directly to the work house. He knew Rab’s form. He would take his party by water to Stephano’s, Hadon’s guess was at twelve o’clock. Right on schedule he watched Black Orchid’s speed boat circle round the schooner and head in towards shore. He could see everyone on board quite clearly when Rab swerved away from shore to ride parallel to Hadon’s property. The boat vanished from Hadon’s view when it rounded the point. From there Rab would follow the coast to the next cove and two others before he would tie up at Stephano’s jetty.

  Stephano’s was one of the French Riviera’s best-kept secrets, the perfect restaurant that one dreams of discovering on the Côte d’Azur. It was what every diner dreamed of, what cookery writers wrote about but never found. Not at all prepossessing – something between a string of fishermen’s cottages and a French farm house, built among huge rock formations and caves – it could be reached by boat up rocky steps from its jetty where guests tied their boats fast. Above the house the land flattened out into fields farmed for sunflowers. In the 1990s it was one of the last unspoilt treasures the Côte d’Azur had to offer. Stephano and his family held on to their sunflower fields and their restaurant; no matter what the offer, no real estate developer was getting it in its owner’s lifetime.

  Stephano, an Italian, had married a local French girl after the Second World War. The land had been in her family for generations. Before the war he had worked as a chef, and afterwards decided to go back to his old trade. The vegetables came from their fields, the wine was throaty and local, and his Calvados was a dream come true.

  The restaurant was unimpressive: dark, low ceiling, white-washed walls, blue-and-white-checked tablecloths, white napkins big as a baby’s nappy, two tables seating ten people, and two that sat four, one small table for two. Where you ate depended on the weather, what you ate depended on Stephano.

  Large sailing yachts and motor cruisers dropped anchor off shore and took dinghies or power boats in. Or you could drive off the main road, down the dirt track through the sunflower fields, and walk the rest of the way down the hill on stone steps to the front of the house to enter the restaurant. That is if you knew how to get there. There were no signposts, and Stephano never advertised.

  One table outside and two tables inside were already taken, some of the diners knew Hadon by sight. They stood up to greet him and shake hands. Rab and his party were seated at a table for ten, inside. All eyes were on Hadon as soon as he entered the room. It was cool and inviting
inside out of the hot midday sun. A light breeze was blowing through the small casement windows, rippling the blue and white gingham curtains hanging limply on either side of the glass.

  Hadon received a rapturous greeting from Stephano and his wife Charmaine. An enormous hug and a kiss on first one cheek and then the other from Stephano which Hadon returned with nearly as much enthusiasm. His wife stopped serving a table to do the same and their teenage son, who waited table, shook Hadon’s hand. Before he could get to the small table by the window where he always sat by himself, or with an elegant and expensive lady of the night, he was handed a drink: a rough white wine chilled to perfection and poured from a jug. They were still standing by the entrance, the sea clearly visible crashing against the rocks behind them.

  Rab excused himself from his table and went to greet Hadon. They patted each other on the shoulder and shook hands.

  ‘Join us?’ suggested Rab.

  ‘Too many people. You know me, if I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘It’s an age since I’ve seen you. I hear you’re locked away, all visitors forbidden. Is the book finished?’

  ‘No. I’ve just escaped from it for a while. Giving myself a twenty-four hour break.’

  ‘What a coincidence, so are we. Come on, join us.’

  ‘No, I think I’ll keep it simple this lunchtime.’

  ‘But I have two terrific ladies for you to meet.’

  ‘We’ll skip it today.’

  ‘As you like, old boy. Nice to see you, Hadon, let’s get it together soon.’

  He sat down at his table and only then did he look past the smiling happy faces and directly into Anoushka’s eyes. He could see that his entrance had had an effect on her. She was startled.

  Rab said, ‘That’s Hadon Calder.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Sally, knowing very well that it was his book that Anoushka was translating.

  Before she could say another word Anoushka shot her a look that demanded silence. Sally picked that up immediately and changed the subject. ‘Anoushka, try this.’ And she cut a slice off one of the half dozen salamis stuck in a wicker basket on the table, and handed it to her.

  ‘That’s a salame toscano, mild, sweetly peppery, and the infusion of garlic is done with a light touch. My favourite. Maybe we can get Stephano to sell us one for your crossing,’ said Rab, and handed her a piece of rough home-made bread to go with it.

  Anoushka and Sally were thrilled. That was the first indication they had from their captain that they might be making a crossing. They played it cool, knowing that it was early days, anything could happen yet.

  The table was already groaning with platters of antipasti, including bruschetta with a garlicky, dark and delectable purée of aubergine. A pottery dish contained a warm tangle of fennel with a caramelised shiny glow to it. Loaves of several different kinds of bread, including olive bread dense with thinly sliced olives, were lying on the table. The anchovy butter was a gourmet’s delight.

  The same fare was put on Hadon’s table. He never thought he was hungry until he had that first whiff of the Stephano cuisine, and now he was ravenous. Today’s choice of pasta, always the first course at the restaurant after the antipasti, was no problem for Hadon. Wide straw-coloured ribbons dressed with porcini, or ropes of it served with a clam sauce. Or else gnocchi: mashed potatoes bound with herbs and flour and whatever other magic ingredients the master chef Stephano used were rolled out and pinched into fat little ears, dropped into boiling water, drained and served with a pesto sauce and freshly grated Regiano parmigiano. Gnocchi always won his favour, hands down.

  Today he chose to follow with rabbit studded with juniper berries, fennel seeds, and needles of rosemary, both braised and roasted – one of the great gourmet rabbit recipes of the world.

  Hadon glanced over at Anoushka several times until at last their eyes made contact. Just as a woman knows when a man wants her, a man has that same sensibility. They were in like mind about each other. She was digging into her food and enjoying every morsel of it. Anoushka was hungry, but not nearly as hungry for food as she was for him and sex. She had not forgotten their last encounter; he could feel her heat even across the room.

  It gave him enormous pleasure to watch her. A plate of soft white goat’s cheese topped with a local, silky smooth, honey was placed down in front of him. Hadon spooned it into his mouth. Sheer ambrosia. The taste triggered his sexual memory. He could think only of the taste and the texture of her cunt. It had been as sweet and exotic as the dish placed before him.

  He went to the kitchen door and asked for a bottle of Stephano’s home-made golden grappa, flavoured with oranges. Once he had it in hand, he walked from the kitchen door directly to Anoushka and without a word to her or anyone else at the table, took her hand and kissed it. She rose from the chair, they smiled at each other, and she said, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  Before they reached the door everyone in the restaurant was clapping, raising glasses of wine to toast them, the crew wolf whistling.

  Rab called out after them, ‘We sail tomorrow, all hands on deck at fourteen hours. That’s two o’clock, Anoushka.’

  She turned and looking over her shoulder, blew him a kiss and told him, ‘I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  Chapter 19

  They walked in silence from the restaurant down the first flight of the weatherworn wooden stairs and on to a landing. There he pulled Anoushka up short and, placing an arm tight round her waist, asked, ‘Why didn’t you come to my table, acknowledge me? Can you only want me when you’re in distress?’

  ‘I’m acknowledging you now,’ she said, slipping her hand under the belt of his trousers and caressing him, feeling the swell of him in her hand. ‘Ah, I see you remember me.’

  He laughed and removed her hand and kissed it, then taking it once more firmly in his, he pulled her down the next flight of steps. ‘You look fantastic, and that’s no exaggeration. I could hardly believe it was you when I saw you in front of the boulangerie several days ago. Akito is my housekeeper.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something, acknowledge me?’

  ‘I’m a man of habit. It had been great sex, it was over. I never rekindle things. We’d agreed a one-night stand and that was that. No future, remember?’

  Anoushka gazed intently into Hadon’s eyes. Finding men’s demands and ultimatums no longer of interest to her, she said, ‘Good, I hate lukewarm anything. Then we’ll have to begin again.’

  She broke away from him and ran down the remainder of the stairs and on to the jetty. Very sure of herself and him, she waited for Hadon to reach her.

  ‘Here, take this,’ he said, and handed her the bottle of grappa. He jumped down into his boat and reached up, arms at the ready. She jumped into them. He pulled her to him. She felt good. Her audacity excited him.

  In one quick movement he put her away from him and slid her tee shirt up over her head. He stood back to have a better look at her naked breasts and without hesitation clasped one with both his hands, caressing it, and fed the nipple into his mouth to suck on it voraciously.

  She tensed immediately. It was sexual tension, the sort that comes from wanting not to hold back, but to hold on to every nuance of sensation she was experiencing. He unbuckled the Navaho belt and unzipped the blue jeans. He felt the flesh of her mound in his hands and squeezed hard on it before finding her willing slit. With deft fingers, he parted the cleft and his fingers toyed with the soft, warm, silky inner lips of her cunt. His hands were large, his fingers long and slender, very sexy.

  He knew what she could do, how much she could give, what excited her. Unceremoniously he thrust his fingers deep inside her and was amazed as he kissed her wildly, sucked her tongue into his mouth, bit hard into her lips, how much he wanted her. Unable to stop himself, his lips went from her mouth to her breasts. His sucking was urgent and powerful, unrelenting. Hadon felt her giving in to him and his rage of passion for her became more violent. His lips moved to between h
er breasts and there he licked her flesh, sucked it into his mouth. She tasted sweet. He calmed himself somewhat when he felt that tiny shudder and her first orgasm flow over his fingers. Reluctantly and with some finesse, he relinquished her cunt and placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking them, wanting to share in her bliss.

  Anoushka was so moved she had to place her hands over her face, if for no other reason than to break his lustful gaze. Their erotic desires had somehow taken them over, commonsense had been abandoned. They were in too public a place for how they felt about each other and where they wanted to go with that. He caressed her shoulders with a degree of tenderness that made her want to melt. He closed her jeans and buckled the belt, took her hand in his and held it while keeping her close to him. Turning the key, Hadon started the motor, Anoushka pulled in the line, and he swung the boat away from the jetty. At full throttle, he sent the boat speeding across the water. It was a rough ride at such speed and in such a small craft but they hardly noticed.

  She was quick in hoisting herself up on to his dock and tying the power boat fast to it. She leaned over the boat and her still naked breasts, so large and fully rounded, swung provocatively above Hadon’s face as she extended a hand to help him on to the dock. Did she know how much she was teasing and taunting him with her sexuality? He was quite mad to have her.

  She broke into his thoughts when she reminded him, ‘My shirt?’ He had handed her the bottle of grappa but had indeed forgotten her shirt, preferring her naked and vulnerable to him. He was quick to retrieve it, and then, with it still in his hand, was there on the dock beside her.