Part Two

 

Saturday August 2nd

Heathrow at 7 am. I parked, bleary-eyed, still yawning after getting up at the crack to pick up Jack. I hadn't seen him since New Orleans nor had we spoken much. I guess we had both had too much in our private lives to contend with to have had the energy for each other. Jack requires energy from a woman and I was only just feeling able to face the more assertive members of the A team.

The plane wasn't scheduled to land for half and hour, so I bought a cup of coffee and dreamed for awhile of insubstantial things, wispy thoughts that drifted through my brain and lingered for a moment before scurrying away like scudding clouds on an April sky. I felt a sea change but could not put my finger on it - there was something about my state of mind that I couldn't quite fathom.

The oddest thing was that I was calm. I am the woman who suddenly begins to talk in capital letters and exclamation marks when Jack is around. (Sorry JACK!!!) But despite the bubble of excitement inside, I was remarkable tranquil by my standards. I'd noticed that about myself a lot recently. Things that used to make me wired like a coiled spring seemed to have little effect on me all of a sudden. Is this happiness? Am I contented, like a fat cat with a bowl of cream before her and all the day to lap it up?

I am daydreamer, always have been, and time slips away when I am on some fanciful train of thought. It scares the shit out of Terry if I'm driving and Lachlan had had a few white knuckle rides, too. Men! The next thing I knew, a shadow fell across my light and jerked me from my reverie. Jack. He was just standing there smiling, a benign almost paternal expression on his face. I was so shocked that I jumped and knocked the remains of the coffee all over the table, spending the next minutes apologizing, mopping up, blushing and generally acting like a nincompoop. Jack just smiled even wider and shook his head with mirth.

"So where's my boarding party? I was expecting a full frontal assault accompanied by a hearty war cry. If I recall, mornings are not your favourite time are they, my dear? You should look lively and shake sleep from you; the best time of the day is the dawn when night sheds its cloak upon the world. Did I get that right? I rather think I may have done. What a turn about!"

I stopped jittering about and came up to him, remembering in a sudden burst of affection just how much I adore this man. My arms reached for his neck and he lifted me gently off the ground to bring us eye to eye. His piercing blue eyes shone with a deep intensity, as ever bowling me over with their depth and colour. "And how are you, my sweet lady? Let us cast aside the jollity and speak of weightier matters. You seem well and look as charming as ever, if a littler leaner- you really do need regular meals and a richer fare, you know? But you are a mistress of the art of concealment- do not play the deception game with me. I have not the stomach for it these days."

I hugged him closer and whispered in his ear. He nodded as I told him briefly how I fared and felt his strong arms tighten with his evident emotion. Glancing over his shoulder as we shared that confidential and intimate moment, I realized that we had attracted some attention from people standing about. Jack is a striking man but there was more than casual interest in their expression; I saw whispering behind hands and someone was pulling a camera from their bag. In a flash I realized what was the matter. Even with the protection of the aura that the Brothers carry, the intense press coverage of the Creator of late had made his image as Jack an unforgettable one. He was about to be recognized; I had to move him on.

"Jack...quick...shake a leg..." Without realizing what I was meaning, Jack obeyed, as I have noticed he generally does when women command him. It is curious that he appears to relish the position as a willing and obedient servant - they are not just the polite words that he mouths in accordance with the strict courtesies of his day. In fact, Jack is quite in awe of women on the land; no wonder he was so leery of them at sea, in his own domain.

Moving quickly through the crowds and finding the car park eventually (I have this real problem with car parks. Terry nearly killed me once when I forget where the car was and we had to wander every floor with the remote before I managed to set the alarm off and locate it. He says I have no spatial sense, no directional perception and I'm bloody dense as well. It is wonderful to be loved for oneself, isn't it?) Jack is much more tolerant and seemed to find my dithering quite charming although I suppose he might find it less so if he had to live with me and this was a regular occurrence. Or maybe Jack is just more of a gentleman.

I hared through the early morning motorways, thankful that it was Saturday so I could really put my foot down. Jack approves of my driving. He's a man who likes to sail close to the wind and is a real speed demon himself so he didn't even turn a hair when I drove up the backside of nearly every car on the road. Any way he wanted to get home. So did I.

Thankfully we didn't have to spend the day at Battleship Galactica (the house)- no British workman will turn in at the weekend, so I drove back to the apartment that we still lease. This was the first time that Jack has been through central London since he crossed and of course many of the buildings on the run in are unchanged. His face, when we drove down past the Admiralty Buildings and St James', was a sight to behold, full of wonder and disbelief. He said that, apart from the clothes, the traffic and the cleanliness (as I pointed out, rather a large area of difference) he might be on half-pay and strolling along to secure a new commission.

When we reached the apartment and the door closed us in its hermetically sealed modernity, he made a beeline for the balcony and stood leaning on the brass rail, for all the world as if he were on the quarter deck of the Surprise and he was surveying the ocean; when in fact he was observing the teeming crowds already gathering on the streets below in this most tourist-rich area of central London. The day was fine, already hot and a little humid as heat waves in England always are; there was a warm breeze blowing in over the Park stirring his hair as he observed thoughtfully.

"Jack? Are you hungry? Would you like me to cook you some breakfast?" I stood by the balcony doors and he turned with a smile.

"I could manage a plate. But first..." he advanced on me as I giggled and began to back away. But Jack is both quick and light on his feet for a large man and he had me pinned against the doors in no time. His arms scooped me up as he leaned his weight against me until I was helpless. I lifted my arms to put them round his neck but he raised his own and held mine in one large hand above my head and proceeded to run his fingers down my throat and neck, pausing to cup my breast, skimpily clad in a little turquoise Lycra vest.

"Hmmmm. I see you have no...foundation garments. Most provoking if I may say, Uma, most tantalizingly provocative- surely you must have dressed in a hurry...?" His hand kneaded slowly and softly, rolling my nipple until it came to a tight bud as he sought my lips and kissed me tenderly with a scarcely restrained abandon.

He walked me through the open French windows and back towards the stairs as we stumbled against furniture and pulled at each other's clothes. And then it came over me. Something was wrong. "No, Jack! Stop!"

Jack was buried in my neck, his hands at work on the zip off my skirt but as soon as I spoke he dropped me as though he had been burned. He took a step back and ran his hand back through his hair; the expression on his face showed me immediately that he had misunderstood. "Forgive me, Uma, that was unconscionable! I am a beast to have behaved in such a manner!"

"Nonsense!" I smiled, taking his hand and kissing it, stroking the large calloused palm tenderly. "I did not mean that you acted out of turn. It just occurred to me that we always attack each other like sharks in a feeding frenzy...but today I feel like something different. I want you to show me your tender side...I feel such tender feelings towards you...you've had a rough few months- we all have- let's just remember how we feel towards each other for a moment..."

Jack listened thoughtfully and smiled sweetly. "You are right, madam, as ever, and I am a simple fool. I need something more soft myself if the truth were told...Jack Aubrey does have a quiet side, you know?"

I knew. Of course he does. He gives the impression of strength and command, all bluster and power, but one only has to watch him on the violin, see his reaction to music, or the emotional sensitivity of which he is capable. Suddenly I wanted to see his hands hold me and stroke me just as he teased those wondrous sounds from the violin- an instrument that his large fingers should have rendered impossible to play. But not impossible for Jack. He is such a master and commander of any instrument be it nautical, musical or flesh.

His hands swept me up and I found myself nestled in his arms as he took the stairs two at a time. As a romantic suitor, the kind who scales up ivy to the window of his lady's bedchamber, Jack cannot be beaten. Laying me gently on my bed, undressing me whilst whispering endearments and erotic promises and then standing to remove his clothes and join me, Jack was gentle tenderness personified and we made love slowly, caressing and reviving the dear friendship that I had felt for this startling man since I first set eyes on him. The Game is wrongly named. This is no Game. It is a Gift.

It was a glorious day. I mean not just the fact that Jack and I stayed in bed all morning, washed by the warm sunlight that streamed in through the window, making love, laughing, talking, dozing, grooming each other- he has great hair for playing with- but it was also one of those rare summer days that make England seem like the finest place on earth.

Later, as we dried off after a shower, looking out over the park and the people lying all over the grass having picnics, sunbathing, playing sports, eating ice cream, I had a fantastic idea. Picnic in Hyde Park! That is why by one o'clock, we were lying in the shade of a large oak tree, eating from a hamper from Fortnum and Mason's and drinking chilled champagne. Perfection.

 

Jack leaned against the tree and I sat cross-legged, feeding him tidbits as we watched the world go by. Now and again, he would pull me to his lips and we would kiss languidly, like dozens of other lovers all around. The champagne made us drowsy again and I finally curled up in his arms and closed my eyes, the distant buzz of happy voices and the hum of bees drifting on the still air. That old Lou Reed song came to my mind "Oh what a perfect day". And then I heard a voice.

"We need another fielder. Fancy silly-mid-off?"

I jumped and opened my eyes. A bloke was looming over me, addressing Jack. "Why, that would be an excellent idea! Uma...would you mind if I joined these charming fellows for a spot of cricket?" It was an impromptu game, the sort that always strikes up on days like these in any park where a few guys have a ball and a willow. Can perfect get perfecter?

For the next two hours, I watched as Jack played cricket, as at ease as if he had been on the village green in Petersfield. A crowd of people gathered and watched as the slow and easy game passed in much merriment and shouts of "Well done, sir!" from Jack and "Bloody good shot!" "Howzat!" and "OUT!" from the others. I had this real wish that Ann was here and could see this- how she would have loved it. It occurred to me that I should call her but I wasn't sure who she was with and thought better not disturb her. I have become very much more sensitive to disturbing people than I ever was before since Manila. Some might observe that it was about time. Instead I just sat there and clapped, blowing Jack kisses whenever he looked over and causing the other men to tease him about his fan following.

"He's gorgeous. Is he your fella?" One woman asked; her name was Jude and she was married to the bloke who had first approached Jack, Toby.

"He's a good friend," I answered evasively. She giggled and raised her eyes. "He looks a bit like somebody famous, doesn't he? A girl over there said she thought it was Russell Crowe when she first saw him. Apparently he has grown his hair and dyed it for some film...but I think your Jack is much better looking. I've never really fancied Crowe...I mean apart from Gladiator when every woman in the western world fancied him but..." she went on and on and I just smiled benignly and said nothing..."And he speaks so well...I love that upper class accent, myself, was he public school educated?"

I nodded, unsure what else to say. Jack- public school? Did he even go to school? Apart from Queenie and a couple of years of prep, I don't expect he did. School of life was Jack's education. But I felt so proud of the effect he was having...women drooling and men patting him on the back. He has such an aura about him and a genuine openness to people, despite his formidable authority. There is an innocence about him that cannot be denied- and it is leavened with a devilish streak which definitely showed up in his bowling. I wouldn't have liked to have been on the receiving end of some of those pitches. I wonder if he has tried baseball?

We all ended up in a pub across from the Park, drinking in the beer garden until late into the evening, eating scampi and chicken with chips and watching the sports highlights on the large TV. It was a quintessentially English day and I suddenly wished Terry was there- he loves that sort of atmosphere.  I wished all of us could have been together - although that would have been hard to explain to our new friends. When asked what he did for a living, Jack had deftly sidestepped it by saying that he was a mariner, based in Portsmouth. The conversation soon moved on to yachting and no further embarrassing questions were asked. It's a shame, isn't it, how fast even a man like Jack has learnt to be guarded and disseminate. Is that the saddest thing about PW?

 

 

Sunday August 3rd

We slept late again...or rather lingered in bed all morning. When we finally rose, Jack took me to lunch at a nearby hotel and we strolled around just drinking in another good day. But I had a surprise for the night that was almost burning a hole in my pocket. Late afternoon, I encouraged Jack that we should return to the apartment although he was keen to stay out and find another tavern, as he called them. I had to tell him.

"We have to go home and get our glad rags on. I have hired a dinner suit for you already. We are going to the Royal Albert Hall tonight for one of the summer promenade concerts. Tonight is an extra special one. It is the 350th anniversary of the birth of Antonio Corelli. Can you believe the coincidence!"

Jack was struck dumb. At seven we were in the Opera Bar, Jack resplendent in a tuxedo, I in a shimmering pale mauve evening gown. I know we looked good. Felt good too as we drank champagne and perused the evening's programme. It was elegant, courtly, refined and ultimately uplifting. A night at the Opera in Jack's company (and he does beat time and it is annoying!), followed by supper in a select restaurant across the street and a stroll home through the streets on a hot summer night to make love on cool sheets, the windows wide open, not a breathe of air( no air con, of course, in UK) But somehow the sticky, sweaty night only raised the barometer on our passion, the slick moist sheen on our bodies seeming to act like an aphrodisiac. We drifted from sleep to feverish lovemaking throughout that night, until our exhausted and satiated bodies succumbed and we lay wrapped in each other's arms, unconcerned by the heat we were generating.

 

 

 

Monday August 4th

Jack was up at the crack of dawn. No...I don't mean what you think. Jack was actually up at the crack of dawn, showered, shaved, dressed and eager to get off. At eight he finally turfed me out of bed and carried me to the shower where he gently rested me on the tiles and proceeded to switch on the warm water. I slowly roused myself from my sweaty lethargy and, despite whining and complaining, I eventually presented myself at the breakfast table where Jack had miraculously whipped up scrambled eggs and coffee. I merely groaned about eggs, food in the morning and slave drivers who think they are still sea captains. Jack just laughed and ignored me, remarking that I had a lot in common with Stephen - even apart from my Irish ancestry. I snapped back "I wear a wig, collect dead animals and take laudanum?" Jack ignored me again and hummed to himself as he read the newspaper. I do so hate men who are good tempered in the mornings.

Perking up in the car on the way to the house, revived by a couple of cups of coffee, a fag and the beautiful morning, I left off my impression of a bear with a sore head and began to wonder exactly how I was going to explain Jack to the gang.

I needn't have worried.

Jack stepped along the driveway and turned his eye on the scene before him. A couple of men were loitering with intent to do as little as possible, the rest were sitting about reading the Mirror or the Sun and catching the rays. For a short while, Jack said nothing, merely watched and then he sprang into action.

"Who is in charge of this crew?" His voice boomed out and caused a few heads to rise from newspapers.

"Who wants to know?" Fred replied with a decidedly uncooperative look on his face.

"I want to know. Do you have any idea who I am, sir?"

Gary giggled and shouted to the others. "Hey, there's a bloke here who doesn't even know his own name!" They all snorted with laughter and went back to their idling.

I leant over and indicated Bill Phelps who was just sauntering up from the street. Jack beckoned him over. Before Bill could open his mouth, Jack launched his attack.

"My name is Aubrey, sir. I am a dear friend of your mistress here and will be supervising the construction of this residence during the next few weeks. I take it you are the master. You have exactly thirty minutes of the clock to organize your team and set them to their duties before reporting to me with a full and comprehensive report of the progress made thus far, the intended schedule for this coming week and an overall estimation of the time scale required to compete said renovations and render the whole project ship shape and ready to sail. I warn you, sir, that I am fully cognizant of the ploys that can be entertained to cover up shoddy and incomplete workmanship; I have the express authority from Mr. Thorne to act as his second in this matter and I assure you my wrath will be boundless should I receive anything less than your full cooperation. Do I make myself clear, sir?"

Bill Phelps opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and nodded obsequiously. "I'll get to it, sir, then. Would that be Mr. Aubrey?"

"It would, sir."

"Mr. Aubrey, then. Half an hour it is. Thanking you, sir."

"Lose not a minute, my good man. I shall await your report of the proceedings..."

And that was that. I am still not sure how Jack managed to impress his authority on them in such an instantaneous and impressive way. It was something to do with his expectation of them. I wondered why Terry had not had the same effect. After all, he was as used to commanding men as Jack was, had more in common with them as a modern man and was as intimidating when he turned on his public face. And then it occurred to me. Terry was used to commanding highly trained soldiers who would never even think of insubordination or even raising their eyes in his presence. Jack's command had been different. He regularly took control of unwilling press-ganged men, landlubbers, unskilled men and turned them by the sheer force of his awesome authority (backed up by the Articles and the cat) into a crack force of seamen.

And by God, did they recognize their master when they met him. By nine thirty, the place was a hive of activity, Bill had delivered his address, Jack had taken careful notes and was now perusing the plans and heaving to when a spare hand was needed. I sat on the garden wall and observed the work, caught some sun and just enjoyed the spectacle.

"Hey, love, where d'ye get Blondie from?" Gary sloped over and turned his charm on full blast. I observed how the sun had bleached the fair hair on his nipples. He really is a beautiful young man.

"He's ...er...a relative..." I replied tentatively.

"Of yours?"

"No...of Terry's. Sort of cousin."

Gary nodded. "Thought I recognized the resemblance. He's quite a bloke. Reckon he's going to get us ahead of schedule. Where's the big guy?"

"Terry? He's in the States. Jack's looking out for me while he's away," I answered. Gary looked at me with a knowing expression.

"I'll bet he is." I started to speak but he had moved away. Bloody hell, I had better play this one carefully. They were already beginning to talk.

 

 

Tuesday August 5th

I couldn't find Jack anywhere. That was hard to believe because since his arrival he had been hands-on, (unfortunately not on me) but on the job in hand. You could normally hear his voice ringing out at intervals but today he had apparently disappeared. I wanted to ask him about dinner, so I ran around the house wondering if he was upstairs, perhaps helping with some of the internal work. I found him in the first floor master bedroom, still a bit of a mess from the last time Terry and I had slept there. Jack was sitting on a chair and staring pensively at the bed, playing with a blouse of mine that had been discarded. I watched him for a moment before he was aware of my presence. He turned his head and gave me a shy smile. "Did you require something?"

I stepped into the room and sank down onto the floor by him. "Are you alright, Jack? Why are you up here? Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head and placed the garment down on a small table and made to stand up. "There is much to be done. I must not linger here..."

"No." I pushed him back into the chair. "Talk to me, Jack. Why are you in our bedroom? Why would you come to this room which has nothing to do with you? It's where I sleep with ...him."

"Forgive me...I have intruded on your personal life. I have no right..." Again I pushed him down onto the chair and slipped onto his knee.

"You have a reason. Let me think. Is this because of what happened here?" His eyes darted to mine and I knew I had hit the mark. Jack would never have raised the issue but I sensed he was struggling to understand something. "Do you want to ask me anything about it?" I whispered softly into his ear.

He cleared his throat and moved about, uneasy. "I think the less said about such matters, the better for us all, don't you?" His response was gruff and there was a note of warning in his tone.

"Actually I think you should talk about things that are on your mind. My recent troubles have taught me a lot about the danger of repressing things. What happened, happened. It wasn't planned. It won't be repeated. It wasn't about sex really..." he squirmed at the word and I marveled at how uncomfortable direct modern speech often made him. He avoided anything but allusions to such matters, despite the enthusiasm he displayed in the actual deed.

"Forgive me if I don't quite see it that way, my dear. Troilism is hardly an act of anything other than concupiscence. But it is not something that I object to per se. I have lived a full life and, in my youth, have partaken in many of Venus's games. That is not an issue."

I sat quietly on his knee, idly stroking his hair. His hands ran down my back and came to rest lightly on my hips. "Is this something to do with Terry?" I ventured the words and wondered if I had gone too far. I felt a certain rigidity in his body and his face setting in an implacable expression, the jovial smile far away now. He met my eyes and they were steady and determined; I knew that whatever he said now, he would expect me to obey him. His demeanour exuded authority; I had never quite seen Jack in this mode, especially where I was concerned.

"The matter is closed. I do not wish to discuss it further. Suffice it to say that I appreciate your tender interest but it is not actually your concern. I have no intention of inquiring how you deal with the intimacy you share with your husband and would be grateful if you would accord me the same privilege." His words were perfectly polite and correct but the cold civility cut through me. I tried to remind myself that this is what would have passed for etiquette in his day. Where a man like Bud would say "None of your fucking business," or Terry "Come on, love, fair play...that's a bit off limits, you know?" Jack reverted to the language of the salon. But somehow I think I could cope with Bud or Terry better at times like that.

I slithered off his knee and hurried to the door. "I'm sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have said it. I apologise and I won't raise the matter again. Stay up here as long as you like..." His hand hit the door and slammed it shut before I could open it properly and make my escape. I gasped with the shock of his movement and the silence with which he had effected it. I just didn't see it coming.

"No...don't leave...I spoke out of turn. There are some things I have to turn over in my own mind and it is not in my nature to share with others. I do not mean to offend you. Of all people, I do not wish to hurt your feelings..." I was resting against the door and Jack was holding me, his face buried in my neck, his breath rasping on the soft folds of skin beneath my ear. His body was pressed against me and his arms held mine at my side. I was helpless but unafraid. Jack would never act in an inappropriate way. I simply stayed there, panting a little, waiting for his next move.

His mouth dropped and he placed a kiss on the crease of my shoulder and neck; it made my head flex and fall back until my throat was exposed. His hand came up and caressed my neck, turned me in his arms until he held my face in his hands and looked deeply into my eyes. "Forgive me...let me make amends..."

A part of my conscious mind rebelled against his advance for several reasons. This bedroom belonged to Terry and me at the moment and I had not intended to allow anyone else to lie in this bed until we had moved up to our room on the floor above. The house was thronging with workmen who ostensibly might overhear or even walk in. Jack's frame of mind was suspect and I was not entirely sure he knew whom he was fucking at the moment. But the other part of my mind argued vehemently against objections.

"He needs you now. He is a little lost and lonely. You cannot help him any other way. He has reached out to you and you must be there for him as others were there for you and Terry ..." There was also the very real fact that in this position, in Jack's arms and with him about to unleash the full force of his passionate lovemaking on me, I was hardly strong enough to resist.

So we made love. Against the door, we kissed and fondled as he shrugged away my clothes and laid me bare, each garment removed methodically and discarded, his hands then returning to familiarise themselves with the flesh exposed. I shivered as I watched his fingers trail down my skin, the bronzed brawny arms thick with golden brown hair, the calloused palms, the thick but expressive fingers that could play a violin with such sweetness.

Jack has a way of touching a woman as if she were a priceless vessel, something wonderful in his eyes, a mystery that he cannot fathom but longs to unlock. All that was present just in the touch of his hands even before I felt the rest of his body join in the game of love.

Gently I eased away his shirt and helped as he slipped out of his jeans. As soon as he was naked, he lifted me gently and I hitched up to wrap my legs around his waist as he leaned me against the door for another deep kiss, this time allowing me to feel the hard press of his large cock pulsing between my legs. Wetness oozed from me as arousal fired my loins and peaked my breasts. Strong hands mauled and pawed; we began to moan into each other's lips, frustrated by the limitations of our position.

I wriggled away from him, fell to my knees and caressed his cock, turgid and heavy, its purple head moist and weeping. Jack slumped forward, his right arm supporting him on the door as his left took handfuls of my hair and twisted it round his fingers. My mouth sucked hard upon his girth; I raised my eyes to his and watched him as his hair fell about his face and his eyes closed. He was magnificent; utterly beautiful, like a mighty force of nature, glorious and strong but wild and uncontrollable. His groans as I loved him with my mouth were sonorous and feral, rolling from somewhere deep within his breast. I adore his inability to restrain his ardour.

Stepping back and easing himself from my lips, he raised me to a standing position and swung me up; I found myself on the bed and Jack was above me, his knee thrusting my legs wider as he sought his entry. You can't hold back the tide nor can you hold Jack back when he is so close to his goal. I smiled at him and his face relaxed, he thrust in and he reached for my lips...it is hard to remember much of what then passed. Just the relentless pounding and his body rising and falling as I responded. It was elemental in its simple intensity as we both rose up on the crest of a wave, the effort almost painful in the fierce driving need to find our release. Which we did...in a mind numbing instant as we rolled over and over, legs and arms flailing and intertwined until we came in a shattering shower of bright lights and pulsing sensation and above all the warm wet spurt of his essence deep within me. Our exhausted bodies tumbled to the bed and we lay locked together.

I heard the sounds from outside, voices, machinery, drills, heavy objects lifted and dropped, a radio playing pop music, laughter- it was as if we had just returned to time after stepping outside it for a while. I wondered if we had made a noise; I couldn't remember much; just the shifting sensation of pleasure flooding through me and the warmth and tenderness of the man who held me. My head turned lazily to observe him as he lay at my side, wrapped around me, his head on my breast. I stroked back the long blonde locks that covered my body like a veil and he raised his eyes to mine. "Better?" I ventured.

"Indeed. All the better for your tender mercies. What you do to me! How you drive me to wild and dangerous shores! I must learn a lesson from my adventures with you. What one perceives of others always appears to be contrary to oneself- but perhaps we all have within us a place that needs to be unlocked when the moment is right. I will think on this. Thank you for you forbearance."

I wasn't sure what exactly Jack took from that afternoon; I still suspect that he has demons to exorcise but I know that he is trying to reach an understanding. But I did not mention it again. He dressed and returned to the site outside while I pulled the sheets from the bed and remade it with fresh, unsullied ones. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I was still unsure of what had just happened but I shrugged the niggling thought away. Jack and I were lovers, he was a Brother, there was nothing to worry about. So why did I feel strangely ill at ease?

 

 

Friday August 8th

A few days later, Jack, now clearly the Master and Commander of this vessel was at the kitchen table reading through some delivery notices while I was on the phone to my Mum At some point he must have crossed over to me because I felt his arms slip around me and his tongue nibble the soft skin beneath my earlobe. "The men are breaking for lunch. Perhaps we can find a local hostelry and do the same..." At that moment, little Shane crossed the kitchen and stopped to stare before scurrying off to relay the latest gossip to his pals. I pushed Jack away and mumbled something to my Mum about having to dash.

"Who's that talking? Is that this Terry chap you're seeing?"

"No, Mum...it's just a friend."

"You said he was just a friend, too. Are you seeing someone else? Honestly, Uma, it's time you started to act your age...I thought this Terry was the love of your life?"

"Mum! I can talk to another man!"

She harrumphed. "I know you. Talk, indeed. You should be looking to put down some roots at your age. You are going to end up on the shelf - an old maid....." I pulled a face and made a quacking motion with my hand at Jack. He chuckled. Mum heard.

"Is he still there? Where are you? What's his name? Is he taking you out for lunch? What's he do for a living? Is he British? Is he a Catholic? Is he younger than you?"

I counted to ten and began "Actually his name is Jack and he was born in 1772. He is a much decorated naval hero who sailed with Nelson and circumnavigated the globe. So yes he is British, older than me but no, he isn't a Catholic. And he is taking me to lunch. Satisfied?"

I heard her sharp intake of breath. "I hate it, Uma, when you take on that sarcastic tone with me. Sailed with Nelson, indeed. Have you completely lost your marbles this time?" Mum slammed the phone down and I snorted with laughter. Jack looked puzzled.

"My Mum thinks I'm bonkers and that you are a figment of my imagination. If that is true then why is my fanny so sore this morning?" I shifted uneasily. Jack doesn't half leave an impression on a girl.

"Lunch first and then I think we must needs adjourn to the apartment so that I might apply some salve on your bruised flesh. What say you, madam?"

"Jack Aubrey- you will be the death of me." 

We both burst out laughing and made our way to the driveway and the car. There was a sort of feigned activity outside where everyone pretended to work but was actually observing our behaviour. Little Shane was standing with a pleased-with-himself smirk on his peaky features. I caught Gary's eye and he winked and mouthed "Who's a naughty girl?". Bloody hell. So I gave them something to talk about. As Jack opened my door and stepped back, I slipped my arms round his neck, pushed him back against the bonnet and gave him a long and sensuous kiss, making sure that I was nestled between his legs and he was snuggly clinging on to my buttocks. As we broke, Jack somewhat red-faced and embarrassed, there was a ripple of applause throughout the crew and a few shouts of "Go, Blondie, go!" Honestly they are worse than old women at the guillotine- they want to see some blood here. I'll bet they are waiting on Terry's return with baited breath. It's like the bloody amphitheatre at my house these days. Let the Games commence!

The men were a well drilled team and didn't really need us to be around anymore, we had had more than a week- longer than a usual visit- and I think we can safely say that we had shared a wide range of activities and experiences. As we left the apartment block and  boarded a taxi to the airport, Jack held my hand and made his usual courteous declarations but I stilled his voice. "There is no need to thank me as if I had been your hostess. We are closer than that. My home is always your home...no need to stand on ceremony?"

He hugged me close and then we resumed our public distance. We were heading for the Temple and the others and already the need to become friends and no longer lovers was emerging. It is a facility we have all developed but it doesn't seem to get any easier as time goes on. Or am I just getting worse at this Game?

 

To Part Three

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