The Secret Cove in Croatia. Julie Caplin
the shower and toilet combo, it was luxury.
A couple wandering along the nearby promenade skirting the marina paused, staring at the yacht. Maddie pretended not to see them and for a moment imagined she was a guest on the yacht and enjoyed their envious gaze. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the man who’d chartered the boat did for a living to earn enough money to spend such an enormous sum renting this boat.
And this one wasn’t even close to being one of the biggest in the marina, although it dwarfed its nearest neighbours. Over on the other side of the port were some seriously swanky boats. Ivan had pointed out Roman Abramovich’s yacht, a sleek, sophisticated six-decked affair with so many satellites and gizmos on it that it looked more like a warship or a small cruise liner, and another not quite so large one that was reputed to have been chartered by Dua Lipa for the summer.
Beyond the marina was the town of Split, a collection of terracotta roofs huddled together in the narrow strip of land, bordered by a range of grey scree-covered rocky hills which rose steeply and ran in a sharp line parallel to the coast as far as the eye could see.
With a little skip of pure happiness Maddie dragged herself away from the view to explore the deck area. On this level, there was a small covered dining area at the rounded back end of the boat – there was probably some nautical term for it. Bow? Stern? She ran a hand over the bottles of a small, well-stocked bar tucked to one side. Beyond it, steps led up to the top deck, which she skipped up. Ooh, lovely. A collection of luxury wooden sun loungers with thick padded cushions in the now familiar navy blue were arranged around the small central deck, one of which she immediately decided had her name on it. Yes, a little G and T up here would be very nice.
Ivan had told her the guests couldn’t check in before five-thirty tomorrow and he would meet them at the reception desk at the marina before bringing them to board the yacht. That gave her a one-off opportunity for some sunbathing before everyone arrived.
On the main deck, as well as the four cabins, there was an indoor lounge area with low-slung white leather seats, covered in expensive-looking blue and white cushions in an ikat print, and black marble-topped occasional tables which opened out to a shaded area with a big table. She crossed through the lounge and out to another deck and let out a low whistle – a Jacuzzi and plenty more sun loungers. A further flight of stairs took her down to the lower deck with six more cabins.
Having explored her little kingdom with utter delight, Maddie decided to treat herself to that G and T and to start reading the crew manual before heading into Split to meet Ivan who’d already gone to see his family. He’d circled a point on a tourist map for her and told her to ring him when she got there because she’d never find the family apartment.
Split was buzzing. Wandering along the crowded promenade, as she’d left herself plenty of time, she stopped to listen to a live band playing. They weren’t in the first flush of youth, but played enthusiastic covers of the Rolling Stones, ZZ Top and Steve Harley, all of which Maddie recognised as favourites of her rock chick mum’s. It was tempting to join in the dancing along with the hardened crowd at the very front but then Maddie could picture her mum, leather-jacketed and chain-smoking, who’d have been tapping her feet in time, no doubt head-banging to the music and flicking fag ash around her with careless laziness. Besides, she needed to find Ivan’s house and didn’t want to be late.
Maddie turned away and carried on walking along the busy promenade past the many restaurants, from which delicious smells spilled as waiters, trays held high, whizzed in and around tables with speedy efficiency. To her left, the sea sparkled in the low sunshine, an incredible blue that had her fingers itching to grab a paintbrush and capture the scene. She’d stowed her watercolour pencils and sketchbook in the drawer under her bed in the cabin in the hope she might get some days off, although from reading that manual it was looking less likely. Ahead of her, she could see the busy port, with queues of cars waiting to board and another stream of cars disembarking from a recent arrival. A large white ferry was chugging away out towards the islands that could be seen in the distance. This was the gateway to the Dalmatian islands and she couldn’t wait to set sail and see them for herself.
Busy, busy, busy. And she loved it. There was a sense of life and vibrancy about the place. It had that European smell, the joie de vivre and the delicious warmth in the air. She’d missed living in Paris. Missed the cosmopolitan lifestyle. Now, here was her chance to live it again.
‘Welcome, welcome, Ivan’s friend. Come, come.’
Maddie, wide-eyed from leaving the thronging crowds of the narrow street and stepping into the cool quiet calm of the ancient apartment building, offered the bunch of flowers she’d bought in the market around the corner and stared curiously around at the stone-lintelled windows and the big archway over the door.
Ivan’s apartment, at the top of worn stone steps, was in the middle of a wild warren of streets dating back to Roman times, lined with stone buildings within the boundary of Diocletian’s Palace, which she’d glimpsed briefly on her way here. It was like stepping back in time.
Modern manners and the proffered bunch of flowers brought a torrent of smiles and Croatian from the prune-faced wiry lady who stood at the heavy wooden front door.
‘This is my grandma, Vesna. She speaks a little English,’ Ivan said.
‘Hello,’ said Maddie, smiling as the tiny woman studied her with dark raisin eyes before dragging her in through the door and closing it behind Maddie.
‘And this is my wife, Zita.’ A tall dark-haired woman appeared from the other room. Maddie guessed she was in her early forties although, with her flawless olive skin, it was difficult to tell.
‘Thank you for having me,’ said Maddie, feeling a little uncertain and worried that she was encroaching on family time.
‘Company is always good,’ said Zita with a broad smile, her dark brows lifting. ‘You’re very welcome. Both grandma and my mama are here today. They’re very excited to meet you.’
‘Really?’ asked Maddie, frowning and glancing at Ivan in question.
Zita laughed. ‘We love company and any excuse to celebrate together with some food. This is the Croatian way. We love our food and we love our family.’
‘Gosh, your English is amazing.’
Zita tossed her heavy black-brown hair over her shoulder. She was a striking-looking woman with dark eyes and strong features and when she spoke her face danced with lively animation. ‘I went to university in London, UCL. That’s where I met Ivan. We worked there for some years and then came back to Split when our family was young and that’s when Ivan bought the boat. He hires it to the charter company but skippers for them. I work at the airport, so I use my English. Every year the airport gets busier and busier.’
Maddie followed her through to the kitchen, a hive of bustling activity where diminutive Vesna and another, much taller, lady presided over two big pans like a pair of mad professors, throwing in seasoning and bay leaves from a large glass jar on the side. They were both talking away, shooting shy smiles towards Maddie and patting a little boy on the head every time he came within their reach, as he darted backwards and forwards through an archway to a long table with handfuls of cutlery clutched between his chubby fingers.
‘This is my mother, Tonka, and that’s Bartul, our son. He likes to be busy and help Nona Tonka. Both Nona and Mama are very excited because Ivan said you wanted to learn about Croatian food.’ Zita spoke a few rapid words of Croatian and Tonka turned round and responded, waving her hand towards the big steaming pan in front of her.
‘She says she hopes you like fish. She wants to show you a traditional fish dish brujet.’
‘Can you tell her that I’d like to learn, though I don’t know much about fish?’
When Zita relayed this, Vesna looked horrified.
Zita translated again. ‘She says, “But you live on an island”.’ They all laughed at that.
Vesna beckoned Maddie over as she grabbed a large plastic bottle and poured a generous