suit, running with a bandy-legged gait between the cross-members like he was in a soft play centre.
‘Did we bring the, uh . . .?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Mats said, reaching down and pulling out a magnum of Bollinger. Chilled.
‘Hey, Linus –’ Emil took it from him and shook it up, letting the cork pop in a perfect arc through the air, plumes of champagne streaming out so that Linus was running through mists of effervescence, arms outstretched to the sky. Bell sighed. Any hopes of preventing him from becoming overexcited were well and truly dashed for the day.
‘So a bottle of champagne isn’t considered a detriment to the weight–drag performance ratio, then?’ she asked, as Mats presented a couple of plastic wine glasses too.
‘Of course not. The bubbles keep it light,’ Mats quipped as Emil poured.
Bell laughed.
‘Do the guys want some too?’ Emil asked Mats.
Mats looked back at his team, their lifejackets off now that the boat wasn’t moving, all of them tucking in ravenously to their lunch. ‘Best not. They’ll need clear heads in case we meet those storms later.’
Bell looked at the huge bottle. Surely she and Emil weren’t expected to drink all that on their own?
‘They’re not due till evening, I thought,’ Emil said.
‘Nope. But that wind’s gustier than I’d expected at this point,’ Mats said, thoughtfully casting his gaze over the horizon. It was still bright, but the distinct, sharp seam between sea and air had become blurred, atmospheric conditions beginning to change. ‘I’ll buy them all a beer back at base.’
‘Well, buy them from me,’ Emil said. ‘Put it on the account. You’ve all worked hard for us this morning. We appreciate it, don’t we, Linus?’
‘Huh?’ Linus called, still playing on the nets.
‘Thanks, boss,’ Mats said, echoed by a broken rumble of appreciative voices from the men behind. ‘That’s very generous.’
‘You must be exhausted,’ Bell said as Mats began to eat, tearing at his baguette like a lion devouring an antelope.
‘All in a day’s work,’ he shrugged.
‘You didn’t stop.’
‘Can’t afford to. In a twenty-minute competition, I can make up to 1,100 adjustments to the foils and rudders.’ He smiled at the shocked expression on her face. ‘Did I hear that you’re a sailor?’
She was further taken aback. ‘I don’t know, did you?’
His eyes slid over questioningly to a wide-eyed Linus, who was dangling from the boom. ‘Hmm.’
She gave a small groan and smiled. ‘I was, once. A lifetime ago.’
‘Ah, you know what they say – once a sailor, always a sailor.’
‘Well, I never did anything at this level. The speeds you can reach, the tech you’ve got . . . it’s an entirely different beast to what I knew.’
‘Different, but still the same,’ he shrugged. ‘You don’t miss it?’
She froze, not wanting to think about how much she missed it. Missed him. A silence stretched, but she didn’t notice.
‘Bell had been sailing the world with her fiancé, but then he died,’ Emil said bluntly, stepping in for her.
Mats’ expression changed from curiosity to shock. ‘Oh jeez, I’m sorry, I had no idea!’
‘Well, of course not. Don’t worry, it’s fine,’ she said in a wobbly voice, forcing a smile as she glanced angrily at Emil, drinking his champagne like nothing had passed. She knew he hadn’t intended to be cruel, but he had delivered the statement so clinically – just facts, no emotion. No filter.
‘Can I . . . ask what happened?’ Mats enquired, his face a picture of concern.
She looked back at him. ‘Cancer. Pancreatic.’
His face fell. ‘Oh God. That’s the worst. My best mate’s brother was diagnosed three weeks after the birth of his daughter; the poor bugger died nine months later. By the time they found it, it had spread too far . . .’ He shrugged hopelessly.
‘That was the same with Jack. He died within four months.’
‘No symptoms either?’
She hesitated, feeling the pinch of blame in the words she must say. ‘. . . Actually, there were some. But he ignored them. We both did.’
Her face must have registered some of her all-consuming guilt because Mats leaned forward. ‘Hey, don’t do that. Don’t make it your fault. I know what it’s like when you’re on open water, normal life seems so . . . improbable. You’re out there, free, seeing the world, and life feels beautiful and limitless; but it can also be really hard and distracting on the waves; there’s no mercy out there. Things get missed or put off. And what the hell can you do in the middle of the Pacific