The Secret Cove in Croatia

‘Yes, I bloody loved it. I’ve always liked art … I know, imagine – me, Maddie Wilcox from Selly Oak, wanting to study art.’

‘Why shouldn’t you?’ asked Nick with a curious smile.

‘Because it’s not much bloody use to man nor beast, as my mum likes to remind me.’ She pulled a face and mimicked her mother’s strong Brummy accent. ‘How you going to get a job with a Mickey Mouse subject like that? Not much call for History of Art down Tesco, love.’

‘She has a point, I guess,’ conceded Nick. ‘But what do you want to do? I take it, by the last-minute nature of this job, crewing on a yacht is not your long-term career ambition.’

‘Given I’ve not done a full proper day yet, who knows? But it certainly wasn’t part of my plan.’

‘Do you have a plan?’ Nick’s question sounded almost plaintive.

Maddie stared at the rooftops on the opposite side of the square, wondering what he’d say if she told him what she really, really wanted to do. He followed her gaze and they both stared at the line of the terracotta roof tiles creating a horizon against the pure blue of the sky.

‘Not exactly. I know what I want to do, but …’ She shrugged almost fatalistically. ‘What about you? Did you go to university?’

‘Yes –’ he gave a short self-deprecating laugh ‘– Harper Adams. It’s an agricultural college.’

‘And what’s wrong with that? It sounds eminently practical if you wanted to be a sheep farmer.’

‘Who says I wanted to be a farmer?’ said Nick, suddenly candid, his blue eyes holding hers, and she saw in them a mix of emotions: anger, sadness and confusion.

‘Family expectation?’

‘No, no, not at all,’ said Nick hurriedly. ‘It’s in my blood. I enjoy it.’

Their eyes met and then slid away from each other and Maddie got the distinct feeling that perhaps Nick was being as circumspect with his true feelings as she was.

‘Well, this has been nice, but unfortunately one of us has to get back to work and real life, otherwise I will turn into a pumpkin. Whereas you have got to get back for a life of decadence and leisure.’

A shadow crossed Nick’s face. ‘Yup, I guess so.’ He peeled some Croatian kuna from his wallet and laid the notes in the saucer with the bill. ‘Back to real life.’

For someone who had nothing to do but laze around being looked after for the next few weeks, he looked remarkably ungrateful about it.

Chapter 7 (#ulink_267b78e2-8c89-5a5c-a4f6-0b8dda83d00c)

At exactly nine-thirty Ivan turned on the engines, taking his place at the wheel in the small cockpit area just off the lounge, and the yacht puttered its way out of the marina, heading for the open sea. The boat scythed through the waves, heading towards the green-covered islands in the distance as the sunlight sparkled on the water like silver sparklers.

First port of call was a cove just off a place called Sutivan on the island of Brač, where Ivan promised them the perfect spot for lunch and an afternoon of swimming and paddleboarding.

Breakfast had been relatively quiet as neither Tara, Cory nor Simon emerged before they set sail. Maddie wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or pleased; on the one hand it meant that there were plenty of pastries left over for the next day but, on the other, she’d had to hang on and hang on, leaving the breakfast things out in case they appeared. It also meant she had to tidy away while they were sailing, which was much harder as trying to balance in the small galley wasn’t easy.

She managed to get quite a bit done, singing to herself in the galley, making sure everything was prepared for lunch. Cured meat, a couple of big salads and the fresh bread she’d bought that morning. When she went on deck to check if anyone wanted refreshments, Cory and Tara had now emerged, both looking immaculate in tiny bikinis and matching sarongs, which happened to co-ordinate with each other rather beautifully. Was that accident or design? wondered Maddie.

‘Oh, cabin girl,’ said Tara. ‘Can’t remember your name. Do you have any orange juice?’

Maddie smiled pleasantly. She’d just put everything away and was about to go and clean the cabins and make the beds.

‘It’s Maddie and yes, we do; would you like some?’

‘Is it freshly squeezed?’

‘Um,’ said Maddie, putting on an apologetic face, ‘no, I don’t think it is.’

Tara sighed. ‘Please don’t tell me it’s made from concentrate. I can’t abide that.’

‘I’m not really sure. It’s a local make. So I’m guessing it probably is fresh.’

‘Hmm, have you got any pomegranate juice?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘And I suppose it would be ridiculous to suppose you might have any coconut water.’

‘Yes,’ said Maddie.

‘What, you have got some?’

‘No, I meant … we haven’t got any.’

Tara narrowed her eyes and under her suspicious scrutiny Maddie managed to keep her face impassive. ‘Well, I suppose the orange juice will have to do.’

‘Stop being a bitch, T,’ drawled Simon. ‘The poor girl’s doing her best. It’s not like there’s a Harvey Nicks food store round the corner. The wrong orange juice is not going to spoil that beautiful figure of yours. Come and sit down and tell me all about that friend of yours that got booted off the set in Antibes last week.’

Tara’s eyes suddenly gleamed, avid at the prospect of the opportunity to gossip.

Maddie headed back down the steps into the lounge area towards the galley as Tara called, ‘No ice.’

‘No pleases or thank yous either,’ she muttered and then went pink as she realised that Douglas was sitting poring over one of the charts on the table, a pair of binoculars at his side.

He gave her a sly wink and a gentle smile before picking up the binoculars and peering out to the sea as if he hadn’t heard a thing. At breakfast he’d been so excited about their departure, peppering Ivan with question after question, peering at the charts with him, boyish wonder lighting up his rounded face. Maddie thought if he was presented with his own captain’s hat he’d be as pleased as Punch.

Cleaning cabins was her first port of call. Maddie grinned to herself. Port of call – see, she was right at home already. Grabbing her bucket of supplies, she mounted the small flight of wooden steps leading to the main deck, where she found Siri sitting reading a book on one of the padded seats hugging the V shape of the bow of the boat.

‘Hi, Maddie – isn’t this fab?’ Siri waved her hand at the view – the sunlight sparkling on the water, the choppy waves dancing up and down and the islands ahead of them shimmering with adventure and promise.

‘It’s a gorgeous day, that’s for sure.’

‘Will you get any time off to enjoy it?’ she asked, looking at Maddie’s bucket of cleaning supplies.

Maddie gave her a quick confiding grin. ‘I thought I’d do these cabins first, so that I could be up on deck.’

‘Ah, good plan. And what about later?’

‘Probably not. It’s dependent on what you lot get up to. When you’re on board, I’m on duty.’

‘No rest then, today,’ said Siri, her eyebrows dancing with mischief.

‘Not today, but it sounds blissful if you’re a guest. Swimming and sunbathing in a secluded cove.’