The Secret Cove in Croatia. Julie Caplin
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exactly nine-thirty Ivan turned on the engines, taking his place at the wheel in the small cockpit area just off the lounge, and the yacht puttered its way out of the marina, heading for the open sea. The boat scythed through the waves, heading towards the green-covered islands in the distance as the sunlight sparkled on the water like silver sparklers.
First port of call was a cove just off a place called Sutivan on the island of Brač, where Ivan promised them the perfect spot for lunch and an afternoon of swimming and paddleboarding.
Breakfast had been relatively quiet as neither Tara, Cory nor Simon emerged before they set sail. Maddie wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or pleased; on the one hand it meant that there were plenty of pastries left over for the next day but, on the other, she’d had to hang on and hang on, leaving the breakfast things out in case they appeared. It also meant she had to tidy away while they were sailing, which was much harder as trying to balance in the small galley wasn’t easy.
She managed to get quite a bit done, singing to herself in the galley, making sure everything was prepared for lunch. Cured meat, a couple of big salads and the fresh bread she’d bought that morning. When she went on deck to check if anyone wanted refreshments, Cory and Tara had now emerged, both looking immaculate in tiny bikinis and matching sarongs, which happened to co-ordinate with each other rather beautifully. Was that accident or design? wondered Maddie.
‘Oh, cabin girl,’ said Tara. ‘Can’t remember your name. Do you have any orange juice?’
Maddie smiled pleasantly. She’d just put everything away and was about to go and clean the cabins and make the beds.
‘It’s Maddie and yes, we do; would you like some?’
‘Is it freshly squeezed?’
‘Um,’ said Maddie, putting on an apologetic face, ‘no, I don’t think it is.’
Tara sighed. ‘Please don’t tell me it’s made from concentrate. I can’t abide that.’
‘I’m not really sure. It’s a local make. So I’m guessing it probably is fresh.’
‘Hmm, have you got any pomegranate juice?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘And I suppose it would be ridiculous to suppose you might have any coconut water.’
‘Yes,’ said Maddie.
‘What, you have got some?’
‘No, I meant … we haven’t got any.’
Tara narrowed her eyes and under her suspicious scrutiny Maddie managed to keep her face impassive. ‘Well, I suppose the orange juice will have to do.’
‘Stop being a bitch, T,’ drawled Simon. ‘The poor girl’s doing her best. It’s not like there’s a Harvey Nicks food store round the corner. The wrong orange juice is not going to spoil that beautiful figure of yours. Come and sit down and tell me all about that friend of yours that got booted off the set in Antibes last week.’
Tara’s eyes suddenly gleamed, avid at the prospect of the opportunity to gossip.
Maddie headed back down the steps into the lounge area towards the galley as Tara called, ‘No ice.’
‘No pleases or thank yous either,’ she muttered and then went pink as she realised that Douglas was sitting poring over one of the charts on the table, a pair of binoculars at his side.
He gave her a sly wink and a gentle smile before picking up the binoculars and peering out to the sea as if he hadn’t heard a thing. At breakfast he’d been so excited about their departure, peppering Ivan with question after question, peering at the charts with him, boyish wonder lighting up his rounded face. Maddie thought if he was presented with his own captain’s hat he’d be as pleased as Punch.
Cleaning cabins was her first port of call. Maddie grinned to herself. Port of call – see, she was right at home already. Grabbing her bucket of supplies, she mounted the small flight of wooden steps leading to the main deck, where she found Siri sitting reading a book on one of the padded seats hugging the V shape of the bow of the boat.
‘Hi, Maddie – isn’t this fab?’ Siri waved her hand at the view – the sunlight sparkling on the water, the choppy waves dancing up and down and the islands ahead of them shimmering with adventure and promise.
‘It’s a gorgeous day, that’s for sure.’
‘Will you get any time off to enjoy it?’ she asked, looking at Maddie’s bucket of cleaning supplies.
Maddie gave her a quick confiding grin. ‘I thought I’d do these cabins first, so that I could be up on deck.’
‘Ah, good plan. And what about later?’
‘Probably not. It’s dependent on what you lot get up to. When you’re on board, I’m on duty.’
‘No rest then, today,’ said Siri, her eyebrows dancing with mischief.
‘Not today, but it sounds blissful if you’re a guest. Swimming and sunbathing in a secluded cove.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Siri, her voice dry. ‘Cory and Tara are like a pair of toddlers; they’ll get bored before too long. I bet you anything Cory will start nagging to go ashore for dinner. And Douglas will give in because he always does. Why do you think we’ve got this whacking great yacht, big enough for about twenty people, and there are just six of us?’
‘He seems very nice,’ ventured Maddie, intrigued by the dynamics of the group and not willing to be drawn to comment. ‘How do you all know each other?’
‘Douglas is my sort of cousin.’
‘Sort of cousin? I’ve never heard of one of those before.’ She raised her eyebrows in a teasing grin.
‘Our parents are best friends. Like the best of friends. Do everything together. Parties. Holidays. And we’re both only children. I call his mum Aunty Margot. We’re the same age, even though he acts as if he’s ten years older, and we’ve been pretty much thrown together throughout our childhood and, yes, he is a lovely man, now. Bloody pain in the arse when he was fourteen.’ She pulled a face. ‘And at sixteen too, actually. But he got better. I quite like him now.’ Her eyes crinkled. ‘Ironically, now we’re not stuck with each other, we actually voluntarily spend time together and he’s one of my best friends.’ For a second she looked a touch wistful as her gaze drifted out to sea and then she raised her head and said in a much more matter-of-fact way, ‘Of course, now he’s all grown up he’s as rich as Croesus and …’ her eyes darkened ‘… in love with Cory. And I bloody introduced them. I’m a fashion stylist –’ she lowered her voice ‘– which is why Cory and Tara humour me. They know I could make them look crap on a photoshoot if I wanted to and we cross paths often enough for them to worry about it.’ Her sudden smile was positively Machiavellian. ‘Simon went to school with Douglas; they’ve been friends for ever and he knew Cory from his tennis days.’
‘Am I supposed to know who he is?’ whispered Maddie, looking over her shoulder.
Siri let out a deep, dirty laugh. ‘Yes,’ she said, widening her eyes in mischief.
‘Oh, heck,’ groaned Maddie. ‘Epic fail. He is some sort of celeb?’
‘He thinks he is.’ She paused before adding in a kindlier tone, ‘He used to play tennis – junior Wimbledon doubles finalist, twenty years ago. To be fair, he was pretty good, but he never quite made the grade after that.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Don’t feel too sorry for him; he seems to have built an entire career on it. And he’s not exactly steeped in regret and misery.’
‘Tara is Cory’s best frenemy – whatever you do, don’t get caught between the two of them. They’re either joined at the hip or spitting like cats at each other, but it can change in an instant. Never