WHAT GOES AROUND. DAVID J CHRISTOPHER
any case, I've been in Lucy's flat and she ain't no Anthea Turner.
"I couldn't find a sleeping bag," she says, "so I'll just have to pop in with you."
"Quite the comedian, aren't you?," I reply, "I found a couple of blankets anyway. I've had them out catching the fresh air for an hour or so, they should be fine."
Kitty joined Lucy on her return trip. Perhaps sensing the arrival of food and someone reliable enough to feed her. She's obviously decided to come on our adventure.
"Think you can go off and leave me?" she says.
Another thirty minutes and we're ready to go. The ropes at the back of the boat have been pulled in and the motor is chugging happily. Lucy is sitting near the tiller with instructions to do nothing unless I say. Phillippe calls out as I'm starting to pull up the anchor by hand because the winch is stuck.
"Going somewhere? Winch broken?"
So, it's not just the British who ask pointless questions.
"I am, it is," I reply. "Wonderful day. Thought I'd go for a sail."
That's going to piss him off, he's not been out of the bay for three years. Slowly we move forward. I'm sweating profusely from the strain.
"Can I help?" asks Lucy.
"No thanks, I'm fine," I reply. Was that a bit testy? It's nearly finished me off, but I've pulled in the thirty metres of chain and the twenty-kilogram anchor too. We chug off. I won't be putting up the sails this morning, there's hardly a breeze to keep us cool let alone push the boat along. Lucy steers us away from the shore through the ten or so boats anchored here, and out to the open sea, past Eric's half-finished new build. I spot the rocks placed around the shore. Can't see what the fuss is about. It's a glorious day today. The sea is an improbable blue and matches the sky. We wave at the small fishing boats as we head north.
"So Sherlock, what's the plan?" asks Lucy. "How are we going to find this Winston Churchill? By the way, I googled him last night. He's dead."
"Yes, I heard something to that effect on the wireless." I say.
"On the what? Why don't you speak English?"
"I had sort of worked out that it was more than a little unlikely that Helen planned to meet up with the war time Prime Minister of Great Britain."
They say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, I'm not so sure.
"By the way, what's google?" I do my best to keep a straight face but fail.
Lucy punches my arm gently in rebuke.
"So, if it's not THE Winston Churchill that Helen was due to meet, then it must be a name sake or a nickname." Lucy makes a fair point.
"I thought it might make sense to go onto the town quay at Preveza. We can go to a few cafes and ask whether anyone knows anything about this Churchill. Perhaps it's not a person at all, but a club or a bar or something."
"I've got a photograph of Helen on my phone, so we could show that to people as well," suggests Lucy.
She taps a couple of times on her phone before holding it out to me to inspect. I back away trying to focus my eyes on the image. When they do, I see that it's a snapshot of Helen, probably taken by Lucy at one of their lunches. I had always thought of Helen as a pretty normal sort of person. Nice enough without being friendly. Attractive enough without being pretty. Now I'm reminded that she is always very smartly turned out. As I study the photo, I realise something I've never noticed before. She's dripping with jewellery as the saying goes. Even though it's only a lunch time date with Lucy, Helen is wearing diamond earrings. On many of her fingers she has chunky rings some with stones, some could be pure gold. Around her neck she's wearing a thin gold necklace, possibly encrusted with precious stones too. I'm looking at something significant here. I just can't work out what it is.
"I'd never noticed quite how bejewelled our Helen is," I say.
"Oh yeah. She loves her jewellery alright. Told me once it's better than having cash in the bank. What if someone's holding her until she hands over the contents of her safe," suggests Lucy.
"What safe?" I enquire. There's so much about Helen that I don't know. I can keep all my valuables in hardback book with cut out pages. The thought that someone might need a safe around these parts blows my mind.
"She mentioned to me once that she had one in the house. She never told me where. Not only that but a panic room too."
"Panic room? You mean like a room you can hide in?"
"Yep that's it, pretty cool. One day, when I build my house, I'm going to have one too."
"Why?"
"In case of panic of course."
"Show me that photo again will you?" I ask. Lucy passes her phone to me.
"Can you make the picture bigger?"
"No, but I can zoom in."
I focus on the necklace around her neck and peer closely at it. "Now that," I say without taking my eyes off the necklace, "is very strange."
Chapter Nine
"Right, I'm off for a nap, I'm still feeling a bit under par, you're in charge," I tell Lucy. I hand her back her phone.
"You are joking, right? I've never sailed a boat before in my life," she says.
"Not much chance of sailing with this light wind," I reply, looking skyward, "we'll be motoring most of the way, at least until the other side of Lefkas. Nothing to it, anyway it will be good practice for that new RIB I hear you're getting. Just keep the boat pointing in that direction and we'll be fine." I point to the front of the boat which is facing Lefkas canal about ten miles to our north. "You see where the channel starts to narrow? Well give me a shout when we get there or if we start sinking. We are hurtling along at about four knots, so it won't be anytime soon."
"OK, your boat, your risk," she replies. "I just need to powder my nose though. Then you can catch up on your much-needed beauty sleep." She goes down below. After a couple of minutes she calls out. "So how do I flush this thing?" I tell her how to pump out the toilet and a few moments later she's back.
"Everything OK?"
"All good," she says. "By the way I've left an air freshener down there. It should help."
I'm a little stung by her critique of my earlier cleaning but don't give her the satisfaction of seeing that.
"Lovely," I say. "All yours." I gesture towards the wheel.
Downstairs is a little foggy. There is a slight breeze coming through the open hatch but not enough to blow away the perfume of a few weeks living in confined quarters. I close my close my eyes and allow the gentle rocking to lull me off to sleep.
When I wake, I feel considerably better than I had earlier. I even feel a little hungry. Definitely, I'm in need of a coffee. I check my Rolex. A couple of hours have passed since I left Lucy on deck. I light the burner in the galley and heat up some water for coffee.
"No mishaps?" I ask Lucy, as I rejoin her in the brilliant sunshine. "I've brought coffee. Sorry it's only Nescafe."
"Aha, it lives," she says by way of reply. "Thank goodness. I'm starving. I was beginning to think you'd died."
"I'm a little peckish too," I admit. "We have a choice. Either we can raid the shopping bag and see what we can knock up, or we can stop in Lefkas town and grab a gyro." I check my watch again. "The next bridge opening is in about twenty minutes. We'll never make that one so we've got over two hours to kill until we can get through."
I know that Lucy is not big on cooking, I'm certainly no Jamie Whatsisname. Anyway, I'm guessing that the provisions she bought are more in the line of biscuits than ingredients for anything substantial. I think gyros is a safer option.
"Sounds like a plan," she says. "Fancy a biscuit in the meantime?"
Half an hour later, the channel