The Last Boat Home by Rachel Sweasey

Author:Rachel Sweasey [Sweasey, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

19

SAINT-CHRISTOPHE, MAY 1996

Felicity dozed on the softly cushioned bow of a yacht, sailing on a crystal-clear bay under a warm and sunny deep blue sky. She heard the waves lapping gently against the side of the boat and sensed a presence nearby. A good presence, like the warm embrace of an old friend. She smelled the sea and heard children playing on the shore and reached out to touch the good, friendly presence that she wanted to hold, but she couldn’t find it. The breeze blew a soft net curtain that billowed into the room and brushed Felicity’s face as if to say: wake up, sleepyhead. She opened her eyes and the boat on the bay melted away with her dream and became her soft bed. But the bay was real enough, and the bright blue sky, and the gentle waves lapping on the beach below her balcony. And she remembered with a glow that began in the root of her belly, grew down to her toes, and rose all the way up to her cheekbones that the warm, friendly presence was real enough too.

The morning they had walked together to the top of the Rastel for their breakfast picnic had led to an afternoon of lazing on the beach. They had swum and snorkelled in the warm, calm water, and then lay on beach mats glistening in the sun and playing with each other’s fingers in the sand. When they grew hot again, they slunk back into the water and let the Mediterranean rinse the sweat from their skin.

Jean-Pierre bought them hotdogs for lunch from the handcart that travelled along the beachfront and Felicity watched him lick sauce and onions from his hands. Later, as the sun’s heat retreated and they thought of dinner and wine, Jean-Pierre walked beside her until they were standing outside her apartment door. This day that had begun with breakfast had stretched into an evening dinner date. Felicity needed to shower and they’d agreed he’d go across to his flat above the boulangerie to change and come back to collect her so they could walk together along the beach. But first, he insisted on taking her home, enjoying every moment by her side. And to say goodbye, he kissed her warmly on both cheeks, and hovered near her lips until she reached up to kiss him there.

Felicity had stood under the refreshing shower, rinsing off the salt and the sand of the bay and relishing the sun-kissed tingling of her tanned skin. She towelled off her wet hair, chose a floaty, cotton dress, and put a red rose clip in one side of her dark hair. She brushed on a little makeup with lipstick to match her dress and rubbed her lips together. She checked the clock and saw it wasn’t yet thirty minutes since Jean-Pierre had left; she poured a glass of chilled white wine and sat on the balcony. She smiled at how these new habits of her life could become the routine.

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