Mirrors of the Sea

  MIRRORS OF THE SEA

  Sally Wentworth

  Changing course...

  Alys had run away, raw and devastated, from Titus Irvine and the love that had fallen victim to stubborn, uncompromising anger. Time had clone little to heal the wounds.

  Now, the cruise ship they were coincidentally both aboard seemed smaller every time their eyes met in naked confrontation--putting an instant torch to a fire that had never really died. Alys knew she had to stop running--from the pain, the bitterness and the fears born of past mistakes. But was she strong enough to give the love of a lifetime a second chance?

  CHAPTER ONE

  It all happened in a great hurry. The boarding-school where Alys Curtis taught closed for the summer holidays on the Thursday. With a sigh of blissful relief she loaded her belongings into her little car and travelled to her parents' home to spend a dutiful week with them before going on a long-planned walking holiday in the Lake District with some friends. But by the Monday evening everything had changed and she found herself packing, instead, to go on a cruise round the Mediterranean.

  Alys sorted her clothes with inner frustration, angry at having to forgo her planned holiday and rather resentful of the moral blackmail which had been used on her to make her do it. Her great-aunt Louise, her late grandmother's younger sister, unmarried but sprightly, had rung that morning in a great panic. When Alys had calmed her down it emerged that Aunt Louise's friend, with whom she'd been going on cruise holidays for the last twenty years, had broken her ankle the day before and there was no way she could travel.

  'And we're due to go on Thursday,' Aunt Louise wailed.

  'Well, you'll just have to phone up the travel company and cancel,' Alys said patiently, wondering why her aunt had chosen to tell her all this instead of Alys's mother, who was her usual confidante. 'I'm sure the insurance company will give you your money back if you ‑'

  'But I don't want my money back,' her aunt broke in. 'I want to go on the cruise. But I can't possibly go alone.'

  Light broke in Alys's brain with dazzling intensity. 'I'm sorry, but I'm going away myself next week,' she said firmly. 'But I'm sure Mother would ‑'

  'No, she wouldn't; you know she never goes anywhere without your father. And I know that you only have a loose arrangement to go walking with that group you went with last year.'

  'It isn't loose, it's ‑'

  'And why you should want to go to the Lake District when you could go to Turkey and Greece, I can't think,' Louise went on as if Alys hadn't spoken. 'It never stops raining in the Lake District—especially in the summer.'

  'You must find someone else,' Alys cut in quickly when the elder woman paused for breath. 'It's very kind of you to ask me, but I'm not available.'

  Cutting her down to size, her aunt said shortly, 'There is no one else. You must come. You know I can't drive any more and I ‑'

  'I'll willingly collect you and drive you to the airport,' Alys offered, hoping it would be enough.

  But she should have known that given an inch her aunt would still want a thousand miles. 'I have to have someone with me all the time in case I have one of my dizzy spells. You know that. I fell and hurt myself only last month,' she said querulously.

  Alys hadn't known but said, 'Well, in that case, perhaps you shouldn't go. And, anyway, don't you want to be with your friend, and help to look after her? If she's broken her ankle ‑'

  'Certainly not. Can you see me trying to lift Helen? She's three times my size. I'd be exhausted after a day.' Adding dismissively, 'And, besides, she has a relative who's a nurse to look after her. She doesn't need me— but I need my holiday!'

  And so do I, Alys thought desperately. I want the peace and quiet of the hills, I want to be out in the clean, fresh air and have all that openness around me. Not be cooped up in a tiny cabin with an irritable old lady, on a boat that's full of men and women equally as old. 'Then you must take one of your other friends,' Alys said with fierce, almost desperate firmness. 'I'm sorry, but I can't come with you.'

  'Alys,' her aunt said, in a tone that filled her with foreboding, 'I hardly need to remind you that when you needed help I was more than willing to give you a home and the—space I think you called it, until you felt able to face the world again.'

  'No,' Alys said tightly into the pause that followed. 'No, you don't have to remind me. All right, I'll go with you. You'd better give me the details.'

  'Marvellous,' Louise said happily. 'You can drive up here on Wednesday morning, then we'll have lunch, and in the afternoon we'll travel down to Heathrow and spend a night in a hotel there; that's what I planned to do with Helen. I'm sure you're going to love the trip, dear. It's a very good tour company. We'll be going to Troy and Ephesus, lots of wonderful places,' her aunt told her, her voice becoming effusive now that she'd got her own way. 'I'll give you all the details tomorrow.'

  A thought occurred to Alys, remote but appalling. 'Just a minute,' she said quickly. 'You usually go on the kind of cruise that has a theme and lecturers along to tell you about it, don't you? Who are the lecturers on this cruise?'

  'Do you want to know now?'

  'Yes, please,' Alys answered, so firmly that her aunt didn't attempt to argue.

  'All right, but you'll have to wait while I get the itinerary and put my glasses on.' Alys stood patiently, gripping the phone, an icy lump of fear deep in her heart, but it melted into nothingness as her aunt read out a list of four names that she'd never heard of before. 'And the theme is Suleiman the Magnificent. Is that all right for you?'

  'Yes. Yes, that's fine,' Alys replied. 'I'll see you on Wednesday.' And she put the phone down feeling rather silly. The possibility that the one man she never wanted to see again might be on the cruise was infinitesimal, especially as Suleiman definitely wasn't his field. With that fear out of the way she could concentrate on her grievance at having her own plans ruined as Alys went to tell her parents all about it.

  Aunt Louise had laid on a very nice lunch and was very conciliatory, chatting cheerfully through the meal and setting out to charm Alys back into a good mood. Not that she really needed to; having decided the night before that if she couldn't avoid this trip then she might as well try to enjoy it, Alys was ready to hear about the places they were to visit and show, if not open enthusiasm, at least some anticipation for the holiday. And being in her aunt's company helped. It made Alys remember how Louise had taken her in unquestioningly when she'd needed somewhere to lick her wounds, had cosseted her until she was ready to face the world again—or as ready as she ever could be. It had been the unquestioning help that had really mattered; Alys had originally gone home to her parents and at first had welcomed her father's extreme anger at the way she'd been treated, but had soon found it overpowering. And her mother had been too sympathetic, fussing over Alys as if she were an invalid, incapable of doing anything for herself. And, extremely indignant on her behalf, her mother was always wanting to discuss what had happened, which Alys found unbearable. Unfortunately she was an only child so her parents loved her too much and were too partisan. After a week or so Alys had been unable to cope with it any longer and had escaped to Aunt Louise, who had thankfully taken her in without fuss or prying, giving her some peace in which to try to come to terms with her broken romance.

  So now she repaid her debt to her aunt by being as cheerful and helpful as she could, reminding her to bring her pills.

  'My pills?' The older woman frowned.

  'For your dizziness.'

  'Oh, yes, of course.'

  Louise went off to the bathroom to collect them and Alys smiled after her; really she was getting quite forgetful, although she looked healthy enough with her thin, wiry figure. She must be sixty-seven or -eight now, Alys calc
ulated. By no means really old, but old enough to have annoying physical ailments and to want the reassurance of having someone near by in case of need. Aunt Lou lived in a very beautiful period mansion that had been converted into flats, the family that had owned it for centuries being unable to afford the upkeep any longer, so that, although she lived alone, there were always neighbours to keep an eye on her while she was at home. And on holiday there had been the slightly younger and far more robust Helen, a fellow spinster with whom she had formed an unlikely but close friendship.

  Thinking it strange that her aunt should seem so uncaring about Helen's misfortune, Alys offered to drive her the twenty miles or so to visit her.

  'Oh, no, I spoke to her on the phone this morning. And, besides, she isn't at home. Her relative has taken Helen back to her own home because it's easier to look after her there.'

  Aunt Louise's strange behaviour was even more marked the next morning when they were at the hotel near the airport. Usually she checked in at least an hour early for any plane journey but this morning she ate such an unhurried breakfast that Alys had to remind her of the time. 'Oh, but it's only five minutes from here. We have plenty of time,' Louise said serenely, and refused to be chivvied, with the result that the flight was already being boarded when they arrived.

  Because of their late check-in they had no time to buy any books or magazines and had to sit at the rear of the plane, in the smoking section. Alys wasn't very happy about it and she expected her aunt to be annoyed and show it, but to her amazement, beyond insisting that Alys sit by the window, Aunt Louise accepted the situation without complaint and sat quietly in her seat.

  'Never mind, dear; it isn't a long flight,' she said absently, peering out to look down the aisle.

  'Aunt Lou. Aunt Louise,' Alys repeated more loudly when the woman didn't answer. 'Are you feeling all right?'

  'What? Oh, yes, of course.' Her aunt sat back. 'I was looking to see if I recognised anyone, from a previous holiday.'

  'You've been with this tour company before, then?'

  'Oh, yes. Helen and I always go with this company. They look after you so well.'

  Alys refrained from asking in that case why her aunt had felt that a companion was indispensable. She was here now and determined to make the most of the unexpected trip. When they were in the air she took out the itinerary again and felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of seeing so many places she'd only read about. Mount Athos, Istanbul, Troy, Philippi, Knossos, Delphi, Ephesus; the names read like a scroll of history, like a book that you'd always known about but had never been allowed to open before. A treasure chest of time.

  A stewardess came round offering drinks and Alys came back to earth—or rather to mid-air. Taking out a notepad, she began to map out a course of study based on the holiday, which she could use during next term's history lessons for the fourth-form girls. It would be far more interesting for them if she had slides to illustrate it and perhaps some artefacts to display. The names of the guest lecturers were at the bottom of the page, and one of them, a Professor MacMichael, caught her attention. It wasn't a familiar name; she was sure she hadn't come across him when she was at university or on a course, but she seemed to remember reading about him somewhere, and quite recently. But it couldn't have been anything very interesting because she couldn't bring it to mind; it was just the unusual name that must have caught her attention. Dismissing it, Alys carried on with her outline until lunch was brought round.

  They were headed for Corfu, and, although it had been quite warm in England, when they stepped off the plane the air was at least ten degrees hotter, wrapping them like a comforting blanket. They were among the last off, Aunt Louise having dropped her glasses on the floor as she stood up, so that they had to wait to search for them. Because the plane had been a special charter, booked to carry only the cruise-line passengers, they didn't have to wait for their luggage, just went through the formality of Passport Control and then out to the waiting coaches, the first of which had already left.

  Aunt Louise decided that she wanted to sit by the window this time, but as Alys looked past her at the landscape of hills and wooded valleys, saw olive trees casting a gnarled shelter for the browsing sheep and goats, she felt a strong sense of pleasure and anticipation, a true holiday feeling. Impulsively she turned to her aunt and kissed her on the cheek. 'Thanks for inviting me.'

  Louise gave her a surprised glance, her eyes strangely discomfited. Perhaps she didn't like displays of affection in public. But she said wryly, 'You didn't want to come. You'd rather have gone with your friends.'

  'Yes,' Alys admitted. 'But now I'm glad I'm here.'

  After hesitating a moment, Louise said, 'Your friends—they were all girls, weren't they? There wasn't a young man you were hoping to see? Someone special?'

  Alys shook her head. 'No, they're all girls. We went to college together.'

  'That's what I thought.' Aunt Lou seemed strangely relieved. 'So there hasn't been anyone else since ‑'

  'No,' Alys interrupted quickly. Then pointed towards the window. 'Oh, look! There's a woman on a donkey.'

  Recognising the abrupt change of subject as a keep-out signal, Louise didn't attempt to bring up the past again. Alys was surprised and rather disconcerted that she had mentioned it at all; the good thing about her aunt had been her ability to accept without prying. But perhaps she had been guiltily thinking that she had taken Alys away from a new relationship by making her change her holiday plans.

  The sea came in sight and soon a woman behind them exclaimed excitedly, 'There she is!' and they saw the cruise ship moored in the port. As cruise liners went it was quite small, with only five decks, the lowest on the water-line. It was painted cream and white, its one funnel blue, and looked like a sedate old lady who was well past her best but was trying hard to keep up appearances. Like most of her fellow passengers, in fact, Alys thought with an inward grin.

  Their cabin wasn't exactly spacious but it wasn't as tiny as Alys had feared. Aunt Louise had splashed out on one of the larger ones on B Deck, on the port side towards the bow of the ship. There were two beds, not bunks, and it had a proper window rather than a porthole, for which Alys was grateful as it made the room feel far less claustrophobic. And there was a bathroom with a bath as well as a shower. Sheer luxury! A steward brought their cases while Alys was in the bathroom, washing, and Louise insisted that they unpack before exploring the ship.

  'I'm sure it hasn't changed since last year,' she remarked. 'And I want to hang my clothes up so that the creases fall out.'

  Alys obediently helped her, wondering why her aunt was now being so fussy about unpacking immediately when she hadn't bothered to unpack at all at the airport hotel last night. Their cabin was on the side away from the dock and they could only dimly hear the noise of the port, but then they felt the slight throb as the engines came to life, and when Alys looked out of the window she saw that the ship was moving out of the harbour.

  'We're at sea,' she said with a smile.

  Her aunt's shoulders seemed to sag in a relaxation of tension and she returned the smile. 'This is always the best moment.'

  Alys hung her own clothes in the space that was left; she'd brought mostly casual clothes, those that she'd intended for her walking trip, plus some separates that she could mix and match for the evenings and a couple of snazzy numbers for the gala nights when everyone dressed up.

  'Shall we go on deck?' she asked when she'd finished.

  Louise pursed her lips in momentary hesitation, then nodded. 'Why not?' she said decisively. 'I should like a drink.'

  Thinking she meant a cup of tea or coffee, Alys headed for the lounge, but her aunt went straight to the bar and ordered a couple of cocktails.

  'I didn't know you drank this kind of thing,' Alys said in surprise as she sipped her highly coloured drink.

  The older woman was looking searchingly around at the other passengers, but turned to glance at Alys as she answered cryptically. 'I expect y
ou'll find out a lot of things you didn't know about me on this trip.'

  Alys immediately had mental visions of her very respectable aunt letting her hair down, and wondered with intrigued amusement what was to come. Their drinks finished, they went for a walk round the ship to see the minute swimming-pool, the promenade deck where you could play quoits, and the observation deck that was right above their own cabin. Here they met two women whom Louise knew from a previous holiday and all three began chatting animatedly. Moving away a little, Alys leaned on the rail, watching the mainland drift by in the evening sunlight, feeling a sudden sense of sadness. It was an emotion that still overtook her at the oddest moments—a sensation of loneliness and lost opportunity, an 'if only' kind of feeling.

  'Such a shame about Professor MacMichael,' she heard one of the women say, and pricked up her ears.

  Louise coughed. 'Oh, really? What happened to him?'

  'Didn't you read about it in the papers? The poor man was involved in that multiple car accident on the motorway last month. I believe his wife was seriously injured, too. But they've found someone else to take his place. A man from ‑'

  'How terrible!' Louise broke in. 'Was the professor badly injured?' She moved away as she spoke and the women's voices became just a murmur, almost lost in the slap of the bow wave against the side.

  The westerly breeze lifted Alys's hair, fair and as fine as silk. The deep gold of the setting sun enhanced the fine bone-structure of her face, shadowed the graceful curves of her slim, athletic body. She thought she must be the youngest person on the ship, apart from the crew of course. Most of the passengers seemed to be retired people, making the most of their leisure years, although there were a few younger couples—younger, but still middle-aged, and therefore too old for Alys.

  But at dinner that evening they found themselves on a table with two women in much the same position as their own—a mother with her daughter along as companion. Alys hadn't noticed them before but it seemed that the daughter had noticed her and had manoeuvred her mother into sitting at their table. It wasn't the kind of cruise where you were given the same table for the whole trip; here the tables were filled up as people arrived, the captain and officers eating in their own quarters except on gala nights. The daughter, who introduced herself as Gail Turnbull and her mother as Jennifer Gilbert, was older than Alys, probably in her early thirties, but was nearer in age than any of the other passengers she'd seen.