‘Sounds like you need a new one.’
‘They’re hard to come by, plus he’s got a car.’
Katherine listened whilst Calvin told her about 10,000 Faces’ gigs. The more he talked the less worrisome her own life became until he asked her, ‘So, how d’you come to be in France?’
Not ready to answer the question honestly she looked across the bay before saying, ‘I’d normally go and talk to someone else now; avoid answering questions.’
Appearing un-phased Calvin faced seaward. ‘That’s a shame. I like talking to you. Anyone would.’
‘Well, maybe on this occasion I don’t want to talk to anyone else.’
‘Then you’re stuck with me.’
In the silence that followed Calvin attempted to comprehend the situation. Sneakily spying Katherine’s ankles he’d estimated her high heels to be four inches but guessed she’d still stand three inches shorter than him - less tall than she seemed but in a far higher league. Charmed by her well-spoken yet unrecognisable accent Calvin buzzed. She asked questions, he answered them. He asked questions, she swerved them.
Time no longer dragged. It raced under the Mediterranean sun as they chatted about everything except her.
‘You got a girlfriend?’ she asked.
‘Nope. You?’
‘Not even a boyfriend.’
Don’t even think it, Calvin thought before suggesting they head into town. Evidently she didn’t want to be seen with him.
‘Thought you didn’t have a fella.’
‘I don’t, and I can’t. It’s an unusual situation.’ She smiled but it didn’t reach her night-sky-dark eyes.
When Katherine’s reticence broke she said, ‘I’ll cook.’
Calvin listened agog whilst she proposed bringing a motor cruiser to the harbour mouth.
‘You can swim to it.’
‘That’s insane,’ Calvin said unsettled by her determination to keep their encounter private. But, enjoying her company too much he nevertheless agreed.
‘See how quickly the rocks shelve?’ Katherine said pointing off the quay. ‘I’ll get so close you’ll make it in five strokes.’
‘Okay but I can’t stay long. I’ve to get back with the hired bike.’
‘Don’t worry you’ll be back in good time,’ she said insisting he wait. ‘I’ll be as quick as possible.’
* * *
My god what am I doing? Katherine thought. Impeded by the day’s choice of shoes she strode falteringly towards Capitainerie du Port and John’s berthed yacht. Would Calvin have the patience to hang round? Leaving might indicate his good sense.
Reaching the wooden pontoons she kicked her shoes off and raced for John’s yacht. Once aboard she started the engine leaving it to warm whist she freshened up below deck.
Back outside she focused her nerves before employing her elementary boat-handling skills. Cruiser un-tethered she reversed between two neighbouring yachts fingering the throttle and training the bow at the harbour’s entrance.
* * *
How long does it take to get a boat? Calvin wondered as the time on his thankfully waterproof Casio resumed crawling. He waited, scrutinising each passing vessel.
Two minutes before 5pm a shimmering white cruiser appeared. Though sleek and fast looking its speed could have been dead stop. Willing it to be Katherine at the wheel, he didn’t risk waving until moments later she did. Relieved he waved back. Katherine’s face beamed as he eagerly stepped over rocks towards the water.
‘Come on,’ Katherine called from the wheel where the boat now idled. Calvin threw a final thumbs up as water flooded his beat-up Converse boots. Biting plastic wrapped passport and money he eased into the water; the contrasting temperature took his breath away as Katherine indicated him towards the stern.
Aboard the yacht Katherine hopped with embarrassed excitement as, looking more like a Retriever than Jim Morrison, her new friend approached.
Calvin’s muscles loosened once acclimatised. Within a few powerful strokes he arrived to where Katherine’s pretty feet awaited. She offered a hand but he declined heaving himself aboard.
‘Are you alright?’ she giggled passing him a towel.
Taking money pouch from his mouth he said, ‘Just what I needed.’
‘We can’t hang around. Come to the flybridge; we’ll get you sorted in a minute.’
Calvin dripped his way after her. She took the wheel and put-putted the cruiser forward whilst carefully looking out for other boats.
‘We’re passed swimmers and windsurfers now. We’ll give it a burn; warm the engine properly then find somewhere to anchor.’
‘Okay, Captain.’
‘Ready?’ She smiled and opened the throttle. Behind them the engine roared with shocking might grateful to be free. The horizon vanished as the bow rose obscuring all view.
‘Hold tight,’ Katherine shouted above engine noise and shishing sea. With continued acceleration the boat planed and the view returned. They rocketed across the water; Katherine’s hair and dress rippling in the headwind.
‘Whoaaaaarh,’ Calvin yelled as the cruiser leapt a wave.
‘Having fun baby?’
‘Out of this world.’
Katherine pulled the boat into a left arc and then a right, slicing a foamy ‘S’ in the sea before de-throttling.
‘Your turn,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Take the wheel.’
‘You sure?’
She ushered him to the controls. ‘The sea’s empty. Keep her straight. Press the throttle – steadily.’
Under her instruction the engine growled anew and up came the bow. Gaining confidence he pressed throttle further. The engine roared as it had done for her.
After rounding the headland Katherine said, ‘That’ll do it.’ Taking the wheel she motored and stopped close to shore.
Calvin looked over the side. ‘Unbelievable you can see straight to the bottom.’
With anchor lowered Katherine joined him. ‘Not even the Lake District has water that clear.’
‘It’s like there’s no water at all,’ he said before self-consciously running his fingers through his partially soaked hair.
‘Shower?’ Katherine asked.
Leaving his boots outside Calvin trampled in sodden clothes behind Katherine past the yacht’s show-home newness and exquisite velvet furnishings.
Following a thorough soaping Calvin rinsed his clothes before tying the towel round his waist. He and Danny took fitness almost as seriously as song writing sure that muscle bulk had contributed to The Police’s success. Still none the wiser as to Katherine’s intentions, Calvin determined he’d look his best. Rapid press-ups and sit-ups preceded a series of tensing of upper body muscles.
‘I’ll hang these out to dry,’ he said emerging with balled clothes and bulging veins.
‘Okay,’ Katherine said awkwardly when she turned from preparing dinner. Calvin smiled having caught her give him the once over.
On the motionless deck he draped his clothes over the side rail and perched his boots on the edge where air could circulate.
Below deck Katherine concentrated on slicing plum tomatoes and kicked herself for checking Calvin out so blatantly. He intrigued her; she wondered why she found him so different from other guys.
With salmon steaks in the oven she opened a bottle. ‘Wine?’ she asked as he appeared by her side still dressed in his towel.
‘I’d prefer beer if you’ve got one.’
‘Beer’s in the fridge.’
* * *
Danny enjoyed a relaxing Thursday playing guitar through his whinging amplifier. The pub, where he worked, had given him the day off. Tomorrow he’d start day shifts. The new longer working hours meant he’d save more money plus free up his nights to gig with 10,000 Faces should Calvin return.
By tea time, having heard little of Amy, Danny figured he should check. At her door he rattled a two handed rhythm.
‘You alive?’
; ‘Just about, come in,’ Amy said from inside.
Danny shoved the door past discarded clothes and found her sitting in her single bed surrounded by books. She opened her arms for a hug. Danny knelt against her mattress and obliged her.
‘What happened to your hair?’ he laughed.
‘Oh, I slept in a towel.’
‘It’s stuck to your face.’ He swept aside the hair still lacking style since her skinhead days eighteen months previous.
‘I’m about to do beans on toast, you fancy?’
In the kitchen Danny approached the sink’s heaped dishes and rinsing a suitable pan had food ready for two by the time Amy slumped on the couch wearing grey T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms with comfy socks.
* * *
On deck Calvin savoured all that Katherine had cooked – even the green beans.
When she refused his offer to wash up he remained on deck admiring the setting sun. Happiness washed through him. Energy celebrated from his chest through his limbs as he considered the weather, yacht, scenery and, most importantly, Katherine. Only the time disappearing with the daylight sullied the moment.
At the sink wearing Marigolds, Katherine also noticing time passing felt as sad as the soon to be purged dishwater. She resolved to motor Calvin back soon and deal with the consequences should anyone see them together. Calvin’s appeal grew. To her he seemed different from the jealous boys she’d grown up with and the controlling guys in Saint Tropez from whom she remained detached. He seemed, normal, someone she could actually be comfortable with.
She had to let him go but surely not yet. Pouring more wine and cracking another beer she headed outside and said, ‘You okay?’
‘Wonderful,’ he said taking the bottle and then her hand helping her to deck.
‘Hang on,’ she said and disappeared below. She returned a moment later with John’s guitar. ‘Gizz a tune rock star.’
Bemused Calvin accepted the guitar. Katherine watched him look it over as she would a computer’s innards – or like someone who’d lied about being able to play guitar.
‘I can’t play this,’ he said.
Katherine’s jaw dropped. ‘I’m sorry.’ Annoyance surfaced. ‘You said—’
‘Just kidding. There’s no plectrum.’ He burst into cheeky smile.
‘Ooh, you had me worried there.’ Katherine stole the guitar back and shook it. The body rattled. ‘Hear that? Plectrum. I had a go last night but dropped it inside. I couldn’t get it back.’
Calvin took the guitar and holding it above his head gave two jolts jumping the plectrum onto and through the strings. He caught it as it passed his chest. Then resting the guitar on his knee he plucked each string and adjusted the tuning. Sitting a conservative distance from Katherine he rested his arms on the guitar and looked across the water and fading light. His glance retuned to Katherine, via his watch.
‘Katherine, I have all the time in the world for this, being here with you. But if I’m to get back before 10pm I’m going to have to leave right now.’
‘I know. I’ll motor you in.’ But she didn’t move. ‘Calvin?’ He didn’t answer. Looking at her knees she asked him, ‘What would happen if you didn’t get back on time?’
He took a deep breath. ‘It’s not just about handing the bike back. I need my rucksack and sleeping bag.’
‘So if I take you back now, you’ll sleep on the beach again?’
‘I guess.’
‘Sounds rough.’
‘It’s a nice night. Plus us Northerners are made of tough stuff.’
‘Coventry isn’t the North.’
‘It’s north of London.’
Katherine watched him watching her. ‘We’re just talking remember?’
‘Of course,’ Calvin said relaxing his grip of the guitar.
‘Surely it’d be nicer to stay here. I could motor you back first thing so you’d get the bike back at start of business tomorrow.’
Calvin’s expression grew into one of surprise then happiness. Then he looked thoughtful.
Interrupting his thinking Katherine said, ‘I mean there’re plenty of beds here and … well … you haven’t sung yet.’
’Are you sure about this?’
‘You asked me if I was sure about you taking the wheel. We didn’t sink.’
‘True. The man at the cycle hire shop isn’t going to like this.’
But, looking to shore he knew he could handle whatever tomorrow brought. His mind settled on perpetuating a night too perfect to end this soon. ‘Okay you’re right. I don’t want to cycle for ages just to wake up with in a bag full of sand.’
‘So you’ll stay?’
‘Thanks Katherine, that’d be great.’
‘Look, if you don’t want to sing—’
Too late Calvin began strumming chords before nervousness got the better of him. ‘Tell me some likes and dislikes,’ he asked finding some sort of groove.
‘I don’t know,’ Katherine said. ‘I like this; luxury yachts in Saint Tropez, the glamour, the wealth.’
‘Great.’ Stamping his foot he chugged basic chords as his mind searched for words. He dived in singing:
My name is Kath-ren, I laugh now and then,
I’m a good-looking hen, but I’m really shallow …
‘Oi, cheeky.’ Katherine slapped his knee.
‘Don’t interrupt,’ Calvin mock scolded whilst keeping the riff going:
Don’t talk about cheap, I don’t wanna lose sleep,
Don’t be getting deep, cos I’m really shallow,
Katherine looked flabbergast as he moved to new guitar chords.
I’m really shallow, I only like what’s posh,
My thinking is narrow, I’m loving loads of dosh,
‘I don’t like this song Calvin,’ Katherine said above the volume of the original riff he’d returned to. Calvin played an E-minor chord to finish.
‘Too harsh; didn’t it describe you?’
Katherine pouted full lips then smiled. ‘It’s not too late to take you ashore. Ah, who am I kidding, you nailed it – had me to a tee.’
* * *
Danny appreciated that anyone other than Amy would have been irritated by his constant guitar twiddling. But even he couldn’t help but be surprised when, after she’d added the bean-juiced plates to the heap in the sink, she brought his acoustic guitar to him.
‘Any requests?’ he asked as she lay back on the sofa in front of the black and white TV.
‘Yeah, Magic Words.’
‘Good choice.’
Danny gave Calvin credit for the lyric’s simplistic brilliance that first identified listeners’ fears before awakening their untapped strength.
Even living room performances invigorated Danny. Now standing with eyes closed his fingers revised the chords. He smiled when their rhapsody permeated him despite the song’s sad beginning.
* * *
Feigning how impressed she’d been with Calvin’s off-the-cuff song Katherine requested a proper one. Calvin looked from the darkening western sky whilst considering the guarded lady and the secrets stirring within her.
‘Magic Words,’ he said following Katherine’s gaze eastward and towards the deepest midnight blue sky peppered with white stars. Gripped by the familiar attack of nerves his fingers stumbled into the frets.
‘It won’t be right without Danny’s input,’ he said unaware of Danny’s performance many horizons away. Screwing his eyes, his mind sought the verse lyrics. The first word appeared on trembling breath a moment before his voice filled the air blending with the guitar’s Bb-sus-4 chord. Having struck his note accurately the natural rhyme scheme served the flow of words line by line. Singing to the moon fear dispelled. He afforded sideways glances to Katherine, though he averted his eyes at the Middle-8 anticipating the word, love.
At the last verse he faced her singing how he could feel her beating heart burning red with the secrets she kept inside before inviting her to join in the repeat chorus.
Afterwards
delighted with his performance he relaxed. Unable to help grinning he asked, ‘Was that any better?’
* * *
Sitting on the sofa Amy had lost herself in Danny’s green eyes as he filled the lounge with sound. The sensitivity of his voice wrapped round her like a lover’s arms.
‘Incredible,’ Amy said clapping once he’d finished.
‘Thank you. You’re a joy to sing to.’
‘Calvin has to come back. You two have something fantastic I just know it.’
They talked about success and record deals. Her certainty that Danny and Calvin could and should make it sparked a belief that she’d do anything to help them.
* * *
When Calvin’s last chord had faded Katherine tried to disguise that his song had taken her breath away. Her voice came as a whisper. ‘How did you know?’
‘What, to sing that song?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It just seemed right,’ Calvin said.
‘It’s wonderful.’ She watched him put the guitar down and, looking at the face she’d only known half a day, sensed something in his smile both familiar and new; like she’d always know him yet he didn’t remind her of anyone from her past until she looked beyond him to the worn clothes and tatty Converse boots airing by the edge of the deck. Trusting her instincts she said, ‘I’m ready to talk about me now – if you’d like to hear.’
Calvin nodded. ‘Okay.’
Realising any shared secrets would vanish far from Saint Tropez with Calvin the next day she steeled herself to reveal all. Straight backed she looked at her knees.
‘I’m in such a state,’ she said and from the corner of her eye she saw him nodding. ‘Phewf, I’ve never even admitted that little before.’
She explained that she’d been raised on a friendless council estate in West Cumbria with a hateful father, two spiteful sisters and a mother powerless to help any of it. Katherine hadn’t expected favours when in March she’d escaped to Cannes with suitcase and savings but no place to stay.
‘Hang on, your father hates you?’
‘Loves my sisters, hates me.’
‘Why your sisters but not you?’
‘I’ve given up wondering.’
‘Are they good-looking too?’
Katherine looked away then said, ‘No, they take after him. I’ve inherited his dark colours but have my mum’s features.
‘So you know you’re beautiful?’
She ignored his teasing expression. ‘People are as beautiful as they make up their minds to be.’
‘Really?’