UMA

So you get the picture? Today is one of those typically unpleasant wet, dreary English days where everything can go wrong in a minor sense, does go wrong and you just feel pissy all day. It began badly even from the day before. Let me recap:

 

 

March 31st 2005.

"Damned infernal knot..." Jack announced as he wandered down to the kitchen struggling with his tie. He hates the things, which always strikes me as odd. Compared to the strictures of his starched and stiff naval uniform, a modern suit and tie must be a doddle to wear. But he doesn't like modern shirts - says they are too tight. Nor does he like modern trousers - says they are too loose. And ties he believes are effeminate and nothing like a good stock that makes a man hold his neck upright and throw his shoulders back. Plus he misses the insignia of his office and the deference that was accorded to him one he showed up anywhere in his gold braid and epaulettes.

"...Thought you were a seaman and could tie any damn knot you pleased?"

"Not a God damned Oxford knot around my own neck...might as well be a bloody noose..."

He was in a grumpy mood, all irascible and tetchy. This signifies Jack feeling out of his depth and about to embark on something that bothers him. He could face a force ten gale and laugh with sheer exhilaration. He could board an enemy frigate in the hell of battle with a devilish smile on his face. But if you take a fish out of water as they say...today, Jack was off to London to undergo a series of interviews for permanent command of a sailing ship. It would mean a regularly and highly impressive annual income, assured employment in the future and help to make our lives more secure and comfortable. It would also take him away from me. Unless he asked me to accompany him. I'm not sure if he will. I won't actually thrust that on him if he isn't happy with it. I'm a sailor's girl. I just have to accept that will probably mean many separations and lonely nights for both of us.

I think Jack Aubrey is worth the sacrifice.

I knocked his hands away and took over, tying the tie deftly and straightening his collar. He frowned at me in annoyance, pursing his lips up in that way he has that just makes me want to kiss them. So I did. He grunted and then swung me up for a more full bodied offering. "If you want to kiss me, then kiss me properly...none of this dancing around..." he grinned and slapped my rump. "So...will I pass muster? Or will they think me a frightful old antediluvian who should be put in some modern day Bedlam for his convictions?"

I laughed and brushed down his jacket. "Just don't tell any stories about dinner with Nelson. That might be pushing your luck too far, sweetie..."

He rolled his eyes. "Am I that damned patent?"

"Course not...you've only told me three thousand times. This month...."

We both chuckled at that.  He gathered up his overnight bag and attaché case, filled his pockets with the necessities of wallet, phone and keys and then went to the door. "You will be alright? You should have come along. This ridiculous job of yours!"

I stopped his lips with my finger. "We need the money. Don't let us argue again about my working...please, Jack! Not now. You'll be gone for one night. That is nothing compared to a voyage. I have to be tough about this. I'm getting used to you leaving. Sort of..."

He dropped his bags and picked me up, crushing me against his broad chest. "I hate to think of you here alone in this desolated spot! It makes me feel so very low..."

"Sophie bore your time away...so must I."

"Sophie was a woman of a different time. She had her family. She had her social milieu. I have taken you away from everything you held dear and then abandoned you. It just won't do."

"Let me be the judge of that, Jack. I am happy. I'm even getting known in the village. Mrs. Trevithick asked me to join the Women's Institute..."

"What pray is that?" he asked bemused.

"It's a society for middle class English ladies of means who get together to do worthy causes and have sales of things like cakes and flower shows to raise money for charity..."

Jack snorted. "And what are you going to do to contribute? Bake cakes? Sew doilies? Sit around drinking tea with large ladies swathed  in tweed and knitted ganseys? Somehow it does not convince, Uma... You will be like a duck out of the pond..."

"Fish out of water..."

"That is what I meant..."

I pushed him gently out of the door. "Go...straight at 'em Jack and blow them all out of the water. They'll love you. So you're a bit eccentric? For God's sakes they own a bloody 36 gun man o' war built in 1793. Not your normal boy toy...They'll be bloody bonkers...rich guys with more money than sense. You'll fit in perfectly..."

"I'm not rich..."

"No...but you have absolutely no sense...in spades...so, go....out there and make your name, Jack Aubrey... and I will be here when you get back victorious tomorrow night!"

So he went. And I stood and watched him drive away and felt so proud of him. The house was already silent, devoid of his larger than life presence as if the very spark of my hearth had been extinguished by his departure. I shivered slightly in the damp morning air and wrapped my cardigan around me more tightly. Back to reality.

And the day job.

As I tidied up in the bedroom, I gathered together discarded clothing and smiled. Jack was so untidy without a Killick to follow him about and I was no replacement, being as haphazard a housekeeper as you could find. Bundling clothes into the laundry basket, I took a sniff of one of his shirts and felt the familiar Jack scent hit my pheromones and give me the usual high. I wanted more so I rolled myself up in the sheets of the unmade bed and took my fill of the fragrance of us: crisp linen (one of my few musts),warm fuggy nighttime bodies and the pungent aroma of sex. I lay there and remembered his lovemaking, still present in the tender places between my thighs where he had been a little too urgent, a little too hungry, a little too enthusiastic and in the sticky wet ooze of his seed. I could still remember his body encircling and the steady beat of his heart as we lay in the aftermath, quiet and reflective, hands making gentle contact, fingers interlacing, legs entwined. If I closed my eyes, he might still be with me, asleep on the pillow next to mine, nothing but the absence of his heavy snoring to remind me that he was after all not there.

I caught sight of the clock at the bedside. 'Damn! I'll be late again', I whispered to myself as I jumped up and straightened the bedding, ran into the bathroom and flipped on the shower, shedding my little chunky woolen cardie and the flimsy night dress beneath to take a quick bath and then throw on some clothes.

We only had one car. It was really an unnecessary luxury to think of having two at the moment. Mostly Jack was either at home on his yacht or away and I had the Jeep but, of course now and again he took the car and I was stranded having to rely on the dodgy local bus service to get about or to my jobs. Imagine me on a bus with all the old local pensioners and school kids? I bloody hate it. Public transport is just the pits to me. I would rather be pressed into an eighteenth century man of war - especially if Jack was the captain...well, at least the long tedious rickety ride is a chance for me to sit and dream about Jack. Which I find myself doing a lot these days. I am really besotted with him. Just thinking about him gives me this warm glow in my tummy and makes everything else seem unimportant. I could cheerfully wile away a few hours with his image in my mind.

I ran out of the door aware that I was cutting it fine, hared down the lane to the road and almost jumped up and down with anger to see the back of the bus sailing away down the bend in the road. Bugger! Damn and blast your eyes! The next one would be half an hour. 'I was completely dished' as Jack might say. Late again.

It didn't help that I had a hangover caused by Jack having insisted on a second bottle of Burgundy, and a few too many post-prandial brandies last night.  Plus there were the stack of bills that I had just discovered on the doormat as I had left. We are both so hopeless. We think we are going to be fine each month and then the credit card bill reminds us about the extravagances that we talked ourselves into by saying: "Just this once...might as well be dead of we can't...a man must have a fine Madeira with a piece of fruit cake..."

More debts. Still a bank account that was regularly dipping into the red. Living with a man who is the world's most gullible user of plastic. He simply can't see how anything but debtors' prison could restrain any man from spending what he doesn't have. He says it is a mark of a gentleman that he should live like one whether or no he has the means. And I am not exactly one to talk.

Jack doesn't really worry. I do that instead. He occasionally gets this despondent mood on him, the dark melancholy that is a part of his soul beneath the bluff good humour, but he has the ability to rise above it and shrug it from him. What use is it to feel sorry for yourself? We might be dead tomorrow, something will come up, or another such platitude and he is laughing and ready to play again. Dear Jack...how I love you. How I could cheerfully strangle you too when I hear you dismiss our plight as nothing compared to past dire straits you have suffered. That might be so - but it didn't mean we should court disaster by living the life of Reilly on a limited budget. I often think how Terry would laugh to see me as the sensible one who was drawing up savings plans and trying to spend wisely. I suppose that is how we learn eventually, hey?

Then it started raining. Well, it would, wouldn't it? I ran back home and burst through the door to retrieve a waterproof and an umbrella. A photograph in the hallway stopped me in my tracks. It was of Jack on the deck of the Artemis on a hot July day last year, bare-chested and bronzed, hair hanging wet and looking away from me to a distant horizon. How could I ever worry about anything with this man in my life? He makes it all so very simple. He makes even the smallest moment of the most tedious day into a joy.

With that thought in my heart and a broad smile of contentment on my lips, I ran back to the bus stop and waited out the dreary interval thinking about him. An idle thought came to me. Tomorrow was April 1st. His real birthday. I had nearly forgotten! It had long been my intention to surprise him with that and give him a really unexpected treat. We had, of course, celebrated on Nov 14th as usual last year and Jack seemed quite accepting of that as his newly appointed birthday but I was determined to return to him his original anniversary, remembering from the books that it had been mentioned somewhere. Unfortunately, I was a bit short of money at the moment and couldn't quite stretch to expensive gifts or to take him out for a meal. Anyway, he would not be back until tomorrow evening and it would be too late on the day itself for something elaborate.

By the time the next bus hove into view I had the germ of an idea. Something traditional. How about cooking him a dinner as he might have had in the past? What about a piece of venison and a stodgy pudding? Me dressed up as a wench? A couple of bottles of French red and port with a good wedge of Stilton for dessert. It couldn't be that hard to boil a suet pudding, for God's sake...

 

 

Reaching the town I checked my watch. 9:15. School started half an hour ago. Bugger! I was doing this substitute teaching thing and had started a short term contract for five weeks at the local comprehensive. It was a fairly dire place and to be perfectly frank, I am a fairly dire teacher. So the placement had not gone too sweetly. I am not overly partial to children at the best of times especially those of the teenage variety who are a singularly charmless and unappealing lot. Give me a group of bright and bushy tailed swots and I am away but as few children these days appear to be able to read fluently much less engage in academic discussion with me, then I fear my talents are rather wasted on them. But it pays a hundred quid a day and I get to finish at three thirty. I wasn't complaining.

Much.

However they were complaining a lot. I had already missed the registration bell twice this week and now I was really late. This was going to be unpleasant...

"Mrs Aubrey?"

I am not, of course, but this place is so damned backwards that I would probably be burnt at the stake as a witch if they knew Jack and I were living in sin as they so delicately put it. Living in sin always sounds rather delicious to me. I can't understand why people get so steamed up about it. They should have a boring name for it and then we would probably get married and at least get to wear a nice frock and go on an exotic holiday. How about 'Living without benefit of a pre-nup?' Or perhaps 'Having to wash his underwear but with no claim on his millions?' 'The headaches without the good bits except for sex and you don't need to move in with him for that if you play your cards right...'

"Mrs. Aubrey?"

Damn! I always give myself away. When someone calls me that I go looking about for Sophie.

"Yes?" I pretended to be unawares that the head of lower school was fuming at the mouth and tapping on her watch.

"Do you have any notion of the time?"

"Yes...it's 9: 17...Has your watch stopped?" I replied facetiously. She flamed up some more.

"It most certainly has not! Are you aware that you should be in class right now? That thirty two children are standing on a corridor probably creating serious havoc if not being injured as a result of your appalling timekeeping and lack of responsible attitude? What's the excuse this time?"

I choked down the retort of "Well, I had to give the delicious Jack Aubrey a rather intense session of wake up sex to compensate for the fact that we will get none tonight..." and instead mumbled some pathetic sniveling excuse about rain and missing the bus but she was barely listening.

"...You must realize that if this happens again we will be terminating your contract forthwith. And that will mean no future employment here..."

As much as I wished I could throw the bloody job in her face and walk out, I knew she had me over a barrel. I needed this job and would be a fool to lose the school as a customer. Most of the secondary schools were miles away from our remote cottage and even harder for me to reach.

So I swallowed my annoyance and apologized profusely before running to class and facing the abominable 8 Green, falling into my usual fantasy of Jack pressing half of the teenage boys for a life at the mast and flogging them soundly every time they opened their mouths.

I was at lunch eating a tasteless sandwich and listening to the head of History remind me about the need for me to approach teaching, even temporary work, with a more professional approach if I was hoping to make a career of it. Then my cell phone rang and gave me the chance to shut her up.

"I hope you didn't have that on in the classroom..."

I mentally swore quite profanely and imagined sticking said communication device up her enormous bottom but the sight of Jack's name on the display made me refrain.

"Jack!" I shouted and then blushed, slipping off to a corner of the crowded room to talk to him in something approaching privacy. "Where are you?"

"London. Having lunch. I meet with these men at two. I...was thinking what an ingenious device this phone is. Here I was thinking of you and it occurred to me all I had to do was call you..."

I smiled. "Yes, Jack. That is the point. What's up?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice. It occurred to me that I never say what I think - or mean - to you. Well, rarely anyway. And sometimes distance is a great revealer of truths and makes one more sentimentally inclined. I often remember how I would wax lyrical in letters and say things I would never dream of saying in the flesh. So I wondered if by calling you and telling you what's on my mind whether it would be somewhat easier to reveal myself. One is so very hide bound by propriety face to face, don't you think? And I must say this is remarkably liberating, Uma..."

"Jack, you haven't said anything yet. What's up?"

"Er...nothing..."

"You nervous?"

"Well...in a manner of speaking...I am unsure what they will make of me...so much rests on me making a good impression..."

"Jack...be yourself...advisedly. And...do not have a liquid lunch...no drinking!"

"I swear on it! I am sitting here with some paltry sandwich and a cup of coffee..."

"And Jack...do your best, but if they don't want you - their loss. I always will..."

"We need the money..."

"We'll find it some other way. As long as it is you and me. Don't you see? Nothing else really matters to me..."

"Dear God, Uma...do you know how much that means to me to hear you say?"

"Yes. Because we both feel the same. Now go and remember...'Never mind the manoeuvres - go straight at 'em!"

He rang off and I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the banal buzz of lunchtime conversation. How could I explain to anyone just how hearing his voice makes me feel? That one thing alone could turn a bad day into a good one.

I felt a tap on my arm and swiveled around. "Your register...the bell just went...do not be late...! And, it is not policy for staff to take private calls in lesson time..."

"My... husband..." I still found the word hard to say. He wasn't my husband but I could hardly say my lover, could I? "It was very important..."

"Nevertheless..." I shrugged and picked up the register and my handbag. She wasn't such a bitch. She had her job to do. I was a bit of a dead loss at times. Actually I'm not a useless teacher. I just don't try hard enough. I should take more pride in my work. As Jack does in everything he takes on...

 

That evening, I took a long bath and curled up with a book and a warm hot toddy by the open fire in the lounge. I felt sleepy and boneless, warm and safe and even without Jack, here in our little haven there was still enough of him to give me that inner glow, despite my loneliness.

The phone rang and I snatched it up. I had been anxious to hear how it had gone. 

"Jack!"

"Tis I..."

"Well...?"

I imagined him taking a drink, heard him swallow and then clear his throat. "It went well...more than well. They liked me...they really liked me! They told me I was by far the best candidate they had seen. That my knowledge of rigged ships surpassed anyone alive they had met and were keen for me to start as soon as possible. Ain't that the thing?"

"They must be good judges of men..."

"Well, actually I rather thought them ignorant tosspots...much like the Admiralty coves in my day. How strange that the same type of men is still holding the purse strings even in these modern times!"

"Nothing really changes, Jack. But I am delighted! So proud of you! This is just going to mean everything to us!"

"Indeed. A reversal of fortune. You can't keep Jack Aubrey down for long!"

"I'll say. Oh Jack! I wish you were here!"

"I wish with all my heart I was back tonight instead of in this bloody hotel room...I so want to touch you...see you...show you how I feel on this wonderful night!"

I giggled. "Well, there's always the phone...."

"Yes. I am grateful for that convenience. At least I can hear your voice...."

"We can do more than that, Jack. Think about it...ever heard of phone sex?"

"What?"

"Phone sex."

"Use a phone to...?"

"NO! Talk about it until we get frisky and then, you know, help each other...get there...."

"Good God! Do people use phones like that?"

"They sure do."

I could hear him stop, take a gulp of his drink and then he chuckled. "By God, do they indeed? Well, well, well..."

"Do you want to?"

"Of all things. Let's do it!"

There was a silence. 

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Say something...sexy...?"

"I'm not sure I can think of anything."

I realized that this was going to be hard work. "Okay, I'll go first. What are you wearing?"

"Ah! Well...actually....I am not wearing anything. Beg pardon, Uma, but as I was alone and this damned room is so hot and stuffy and you know how I hate to be too warm..."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"...Because you caught me out in a state of embarrassment. Lying here on the bed naked as a babe, my hair undressed and my deportment somewhat casually arranged..."

God, what a visual...maybe he was better at this than I thought.

"Jack...naked is fine...we are having sex..."

"Just so...just so...."

"Now you have to say something to me..."

"Are you using that vibrating device?"

"Well, it does help..."

"Foul thing...What are you wearing then?"

I gave him a throaty laugh. "The oyster satin negligee you bought me in Barcelona...." Of course I wasn't, but how was he to know?

"Really...?" he let out a soft low purr, like a giant cat. "I have some fine memories of that garment..."

We were off and running. For a while, we talked about his hotel room and the Scotch he was drinking and a few mildly erotic observations while I told him about where I was sitting and how I was sitting and what he would see were he sitting opposite me...

"I want to sit in your lap, Jack, the fire blazing behind me and the soft drape of the satin raised to my waist while I bare myself to you..."

He coughed. There was a silence.  "Em...I would like to put my...um....you know what in your...um...thingummy...Good God, must I actually say these things? I can't speak like that in front of a lady..." He groaned in frustration. I began to laugh. This was really quite absurd. What was I thinking? Phone sex with Jack Aubrey?

"Jack! You don't normally find it hard to talk dirty when we're in bed!"

"That is quite different. There I am not of sound mind. I lose my wits as do all men. I no longer have the least idea what I am saying - but how can I simply spout lewdness on tap?"

"Jack! This is me... Together we have done every debauchery known to mankind and a few I'm not quite sure about... The idea is for you to get so turned by what we're saying that you do lose your wits and then just wank yourself silly..."

"Uma, must you talk so crudely? It ill becomes you..."

"JACK!!!! We are having sex!" I screamed down the phone. "This is not going to work. I give up...."

He didn't reply. In fact all I could hear was the distant sound of his heavy breathing.

"Jack, why are you so quiet?"

"I'm... thinking..." The forced grunt gave it away. " Why don't you have a think...there's a good girl..." he muttered.

"Jack Aubrey! You're wanking!"

"I wouldn't exactly call it that..." he insisted indignantly.

"Oh no? Well, what would you exactly call it then?"

But he was beyond sense. The old wits were going. All I heard was something that sounded like "Urggrgh!"

I decided it was no use trying to get sense out of a man at that point so I settled back, flipped the switch and worked on my visuals, imagining him, naked, lying back on a hotel bed and giving it a good whacking...

I had an idea, turning the phone towards my exposed anatomy, taking a snap shot and sending it along. I knew when he had received it. He spluttered: "Good God Almighty!" And then proceeded to babble mindlessly...I closed my eyes and gave into the moment myself.

There was a spell when the line was dead and all that either must have heard was the soft sighs of a couple recovering from a high. Then we began to talk softly, laughing gently, sweet nothings, nonsense such as you say when you are all wrapped up and feeling the love.

Suddenly, Jack muttered, "Good God...is that even anatomically possible?"

"Pardon?" I asked.

"Ah...nothing...I was just talking to the screen..."

"Screen?"

"Yes...I'm watching a pornographic film. You can access them from your room...quite amazing really. I suppose we made do with wenches....I think I prefer a wench...."

"You are watching a porno while you make love to me?"

"Well, we weren't exactly making love...had you been present my eyes would not have wandered....And I found it remarkably useful in the initial stages..."

The penny dropped. "Jack....you took off your clothes in a hotel room, accessed a porn film and then rang me. You were bloody hoping for phone sex, weren't you? You dog!"

He chuckled, well pleased with himself. "A sea dog, Uma...you have my word on't. But I must say, these cell phones would have been remarkable at sea. Imagine all the crew pulling at their ropes with their women on the other end...the deck would have been awash with semen....as opposed to seamen....ha, ha, ha...did you smoke that, Uma?"

I cleared my throat. "That was pretty dire, Jack. And you would have confiscated and thrown them over the side. You were always such a party pooper for those boys..."

He grunted. "Would have kept mine though..."

"You dirty bugger!"

"Ah no...I was never one for buggery..."

"That's not what you said the last time you asked me if you could..."

"..That was different. Between a man and a woman all is allowed..."

"That in the Articles?"

"If not, it should be. By the way, I hope you were careful when you sent this incredibly lewd photograph to me. Remember when you sent that other one to your entire address book by mistake? That was bad enough. But this one...I think the vicar's wife would require laudanum..."

"I talked my way out of that. I told her it was down the farmyard...God, I hope I didn't make a mistake again either. The last time Terry SMS'd back 'Thanks for the memory'. I could have died. But nothing from him yet so I guess I did it right this time..."

"Thank God for that... I think I had better retire for the night. Lock up and go to bed. Sleep well. Dream of me..."

"I always do. Jack - thank you for today. I thought it would be a terrible day but it wasn't. It was the best day of my life!"

"What? How so?"

"Every day is. Just to be with you, talk to you, know you are in my life....makes it the best of days! Hurry back! Don't be late! Tomorrow is a very special day. I have a very special surprise planned! But no more...I don't want to spoil the surprise...."

 

 

JACK

 

 

April 1st 2005

I finally completed the call and rolled back on the bed, smiling, thinking about her. She brings such joy to my life. She is so very full of life and love. Best day of her life! The nonsense she talks at times. She is going to have a special surprise planned for me tomorrow? Why? What is so special about tomorrow? The clock by the bedside clicked and the hour changed. So did the date.

April 1st.

Ha, ha, ha! So that's her game, is it? She thinks that I don't know that April 1st is the day one plays japes on each other. Why wouldn't I know? We did the self same in my day. So, she has something planned to throw me off course, hey? Well, she'll find me a hard nut to crack. I'll be ready for her. Watch everything she does and says. Eventually she'll give herself away and I'll have her.

I slipped beneath the sheets and doused the lamp. We'll see what the little lady has in mind.... tomorrow...

 

It rained all the following day as I drove home. But the roads were quiet enough once I left the motorway and I made good time. The house was quiet when I returned. I looked about and wondered what she was up to. The table was laid as if for a celebration and Uma had clearly been preparing food. Hmmm...was there something odd she was going to feed me? I pottered around some more but was still unsure what she was playing at, so I set it aside, showered and changed and dozed for a few hours until she returned home from work.

It was about four thirty when she burst through the door, dripping and soaked through. I jumped up and grabbed a towel, as she leapt upon me.

"JACK!!!!" I caught her as she launched herself at me, stumbled back and we fell to the cushions of the settee. Then she covered my face with kisses and whispered promises and love talk in my ears. I almost forgot to be suspicious.

"Jack.....oh Jack!! It is so wonderful to have you back!"

"I was only away one day..."

"But, Jack! I miss you all the time. Every minute of every day!" She can be a little overenthusiastic in her praise at times - but I have to say, I rather adore it. It perks a fellow up to hear his sweetheart thinks so highly of him.

There followed a rather pleasant interlude, about which I shall say no more, and then she suddenly remembered her cooking. "Go out! Go down the pub for a few hours. Bring back some good wine. I have a surprise for you!"

I looked at her doubtfully. "I don't feel in the mood to drink."

"What? Jack Aubrey is not in the mood for a drink? Are you ill?"

I gave her a bashful look. "I would rather stay here with you..." I knew she would be up to something if I let her out of my sight.

"I need to concentrate on cooking. I want this to be a really great meal!"

I pursed my lips. "Well, I'm not really hungry!"

"Not really hungry? Jack....when have you ever before been 'not really hungry'? Are you sure you are alright? Maybe I should call the doctor?"

I had overplayed my hand. She would detect something was amiss.

"I'll go for a drink. Just a quick one. And I shall miss every moment apart!" My love talk distracted her as she kissed me fondly goodbye.

So, reluctantly and against my better judgement, I strolled down through that rainy evening to the local hostelry and downed a few pints of their excellent ale. The time slipped by in company of a few stout hearted men of the district and I suddenly became aware that it was almost eight thirty. I had been away for over two hours. I made my farewells to a chorus of men mocking my uxoriousness and trying to tempt me into one for the road. But I held fast and hurried back home.

"My sweet?" I searched the room with my eyes for something out of place. There was nothing I could notice.

"Jack! Just in time!" Uma ran down the stairs dressed in a most appealing gown. She was wearing some sort of blouse with a frilly collar pulled off her shoulders to reveal her creamy white neck and an unusually swelling bosom. How had she faked that? Was that the April Fool? I eyed her curiously as she twirled round holding out the long floral skirt that made her look like a country wench, her hair pinned up in a messy fashion.

"Well, sir, what'll be your pleasure?" She beamed, speaking in a curious West country burr.

"I beg your pardon?" I answered, looking nervously about, sure that someone or something was about to jump out and make a complete fool of me.

Uma moved across, swinging her hips, making the skirt sway as if she was carrying a pannier on one hip. She ran her finger up the buttons of my shirt from belt to collar and licked her lips. "Will the captain be requiring a full dinner with all the courses? How hearty is his appetite this evening, pray tell?"

I cleared my throat and pursed my lips. "Now, I am aware that you probably think I have been completely fooled, Uma, but I can assure you that it not so. I see through this and have done since you first began your games. Enough. The trick is played. It was discovered. Now let's eat...I am quite famished..."

Uma stepped back and her face fell. "What? Why are you so angry with me?" Her eyes filled with tears and she blushed flame red. "I feel so stupid now...I was just trying to make this special...have some fun...."

I stiffened my chin and willed away the desire to kiss away the little pout on her darling mouth. "Fun...yes, well...one person's idea of fun does not always translate, is that not so? One man's meat is another man's pudding, as it were...I am not in the mood for japes, Uma...no matter how special the day is...dish up the food, light along..."

She turned and walked crestfallen into the kitchen, pulling up the neck of her blouse on to her shoulders and tossing away the long scarf that was bound in her hair. I could hear her slamming plates as she prepared to bring in dinner. I wondered if she was crying but had no idea why being rumbled in an April Fool's joke might bother her so much. But then women are strange, moody creatures at the best of times.

She came in with a tray bearing an impressive fare. There was a whole Dover sole, swimming in a buttery cream sauce, a side of venison, a colourful array of root vegetables and fluffy potatoes. She placed a tureen of little green peas and beans at my right hand and fussed about as I carved the meat.

"I'm afraid I forgot to buy wine," I admitted sheepishly.

She slipped to the side cabinet and brought a fine Margaux that was sitting open waiting for us. "It's okay, I had already bought the wine..." She poured it into the glasses and began to serve out the vegetables as I placed slices of the succulent meat on each plate.

We ate in silence. Or rather I ate and she played around with her fork and sniffed loudly at intervals. Finally I threw down my knife. "What is the matter with you? What is so damn special about being trounced in a childish April Fool joke? Are you going to sit there blubbing about it all night like a silly child?"

"April Fool?" Uma repeated. "Who said anything about April Fool?"

I harrumphed.  "Today is April 1st, is it not? Today is the day for playing tricks..."

I saw light dawning on her eyes and wished the same comprehension was striking me. "This isn't an April Fool....it's your birthday dinner, you idiot!...I wanted to celebrate your real birthday...the one you had in your other life....so I cooked that sort of food and dressed up in a vaguely wenchy way...I'm sorry if I offended you...it was probably thoughtless of me to try and recreate those times when you were so happy with Sophie and everyone..."

"...My birthday?" 

"Today. April 1st. In Post Captain you gave that date as your birthday..."

"Did I? Whatever for?"

"You mean it isn't your birthday?"

I shook my head. "Of course not...Good God, that would be the final insult for Jack Aubrey to have been born on Fool's day..."

"But why did you say it then...? Let me find it..." She ran to the book shelf and extracted the copy of the book flicking through pages until she found the place she wanted. "You were captured by the French and gave your date of birth as: April 1st...1066...oh God...! I never read it properly. I thought it said 1776...which is wrong anyway as you were born in 1771, weren't you? You were just being facetious, weren't you....oh, Jack, I'm so dumb..."

I threw back my head and laughed loudly. "That makes a pretty pair of us. What was I thinking? If Jack Aubrey gets some nonsense in his head then he is quite impossible to shake. You poor darling, going to all this trouble for a nincompoop such as I! I care not if it is my birthday...it can be my birthday for all I care! My second birthday...if you so wish, madam..." I held out my hands to her and she danced over to sit in my lap and snuggle down. "Come...let us eat...I shall feed you. You do not eat enough to keep a tiny bird alive and I do rather like a roundness in my women...as a matter of interest...how did you effect that remarkable swell in your bosom...?" I pulled on the blouse and lowered to back off her shoulders to see again the fine sight.

She grinned. "Artifice - a great push up bra from Bravissima! It's a mail order company..."

"So you order men from it?" I teased.

She snorted. "Yeah...They were all out of big blond hunky sea captains, so I had to go and catch me one myself..."

Dinner passed in sublime peace. Wonderful food - she even had a finely made suet pudding that she admitted came from one of the two spinsters sisters who run the little cake shop in the village. They had been delighted for such a commission for 'The Lovely Captain' as the old dears call me. Excellent wines - she had spent rather a lot of money on a few bottles at the vintners but we both deserved a celebration. And the utter joy of her company in the provocative outfit and with her sparkling mood restored.

As I sat and drew on a smooth Cuban cigar while she poured my brandy, I pulled her back onto my knee. 'I was just thinking...as this is a sort of anniversary...and as you are trying so hard to make it so...perhaps you could offer me the same treat you provided in November on my official birthday....?" I blew on her ear and sucked lightly on the tender skin beneath it.

Uma sighed and sat up, rubbing her breasts against my face lewdly. "They don't call you Lucky Jack for nothing, sir..." She said, back in the West Country burr.

I chuckled, rested the cigar in an ashtray and picked her up in my arms. "We leave the dishes for Killick...or some scullery maid...you are the wench for the night, are you not, my beauty?"

"I am indeed, sir...at your pleasure, Cap'n..."

"Then....we do not have a moment to lose..."

 

What a day...the best day of my life. Just being with her. The best day I ever had.

 

*The Best Day of My Life...I want to thank you....by Dido

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