The harbour was bustling with people making their way to the beach. One person, however, was not moving. A small, slightly dozy looking blond girl was sat on a bench watching Skipper Bruce, First Mate Glen, Deck Hand Chris and Cabin Boy Matt work. She had been there for some time.
"Who is that girl?" asked First Mate Glen.
"I don't know," whistled Deck Hand Chris in reply. "She's been there for quite a long time and she seems to be watching you, Skipper."
"Don't be silly," answered Skipper Bruce, going red. "Just get this fash off the boat."
At that moment Harbour Master Gamble wandered along the quay towards them, clipboard in hand. First Mate Glen beckoned him over.
"Harbour Master Gamble," he said, "have you any idea who that girl is?"
"Well," Harbour Master Gamble looked thoughtful, "I've never seen her before, at least I don't recognise that I've seen her before, which of course doesn't mean that I actually haven't seen her, I may have seen her in passing but just not remembered her, so I may have just lied to you, though I'm not sure you can call it a lie if it wasn't intentional but was merely an accidental conveying of false information resulting from a failure of the memory, but if I have seen her before that doesn't matter because I still don't know who she is."
"We think she has the hots for the Skip," replied First Mate Glen, nudging Skipper Bruce playfully.
"Nah," squirmed Skipper Bruce, "don't want anything to do with them."
"Too bloody right, Skipper," Cabin Boy Matt interjected. "Stay well clear. Bloody Gregorian chants!"
Skipper Bruce, First Mate Glen, Deck Hand Chris and Harbour Master Gamble just looked at each other and shrugged as Cabin Boy Matt lifted another crate of fish while muttering about tuneless music under his breath.
"I rather like Gregorian chants myself," said Harbour Master Gamble, "I have a CD of Chris de Burgh songs in the style of Gregorian chants."
Deck Hand Chris shuddered. "But you don't know who that girl is?"
"Not a clue," replied Harbour Master Gamble. "Perhaps he does, though," he said, indicating towards a policeman strolling through the crowds.
The policeman, catching Harbour Master Gamble's wave, strode purposefully towards them.
"It's Special Agent Warwick!" Stated Skipper Bruce, for indeed it was.
"Good morning," Special Agent Warwick greeted them.
"Why Warwick?" asked Harbour Master Gamble.
"It's a code name," First Mate Glen told him. "All secret agents are named after universities."
"You're wrong," replied Special Agent Warwick. "The head of MI5 left a laptop on a tram in Edinburgh, which was unfortunate because it wasn't going anywhere, as a result of which our secret identities are now in the public domain, so they had to be changed."
"And what theme did they use this time?" asked First Mate Glen.
"Castles," replied the secret agent.
"That's cool, that's cool. Which castle did they name you after?"
"Warwick."
"Oh. So you're still Special Agent Warwick?"
"No, I was Special Agent Warwick and now I'm Special Agent Warwick," answered Special Agent Warwick, patiently.
"Oh, OK," First Mate Glen thought about this for a moment. "So are you under cover as a cop at the moment?"
"No," replied Special Agent Warwick. "I decided to leave the secret service and they offered me a job as Inspector with the local police force, you don't need to rise up the ranks when you have a service history like mine. Unfortunately there was a mistake and I ended up as a Police Community Support Officer." He pointed to the back of his fluorescent jacket on which the letters PCSO stood out in white.
"Ah, unfortunate," said Deck Hand Chris, sympathetically patting Special Agent Warwick on the back. "Maybe we should just call you 'Inspector' anyway."
"Really it should be Reverend Doctor Inspector Warwick," replied Reverend Doctor Inspector Warwick. "I got a PhD not so long ago and I was ordained too so that I could go under cover as an Anglican vicar."
"Oh, right," answered Deck Hand Chris. "Well, we were wondering if you knew who that girl was over there."
"No," replied Reverend Doctor Inspector Warwick, "but I can find out." With that, he strolled over to the girl, asked her name and came back. "She's called Mairi and she owns a café in town," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, that lad over there hasn't got his shoe laces tied properly, I should go and have a quiet word."
And with that Reverend Doctor Inspector Warwick was gone.
Skipper Bruce was about to pick up a crate of mackerel when he heard a small voice behind him. "Excuse me, Skipper?"
He turned around to see Mairi looking up at him adoringly.
"Er, yeah?" he said, looking down at her uncomfortably.
"I thought you might like some sausages," she said, smiling broadly as she held out a plate on which two black piles of soot which vaguely resembled lumps of coal were sat.
"Oh, er, thanks," Skipper Bruce replied, taking the plate from her. He stood in silence, unsure of what to say next.
"Do you like sausages?" Mairi asked him after a few moments' awkward silence.
"Er, yeah, they're all right, I guess." Skipper Bruce really hoped she wasn't going to wait for him to eat them.
Another silence ensued.
"I own a café," Mairi told him, unperturbed by the highly uncomfortable nature of the situation. "I do aaaaall the cooking myself," she beamed and waved her hands around as if to indicate her wide ranging culinary skills.
"Oh, right," replied Skipped Bruce. "That's, er, good, I guess." He glanced back at the sausages. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll, er, save these for lunch. Thanks." And with that he put the plate on the ground, picked up his crate and heading off towards the store.
"Oh," Mairi said disappointedly as she looked after him. "Don't let them go cold," she called.
Deck Hand Chris and First Mate Glen nudged their Skipper as they prepared the fish for market later that day, poking fun at his new admirer.
"Don't listen to 'em, Skip," Cabin Boy Matt said. "Chuffin' women and chuffin' Gregorian chants. Bah!"
First Mate Glen and Deck Hand Chris looked at each other again and shrugged.
"Anyway", Cabin Boy Matt turned to Deck Hand Chris, "you can say nowt, I've seen that lass giving you the eye."
"What? Mairi's been giving me the eye as well?" he said, his voice lifting to a pitch which could be heard with greater ease by dogs than by men.
"No, not Mairi, another lass. Aye, she comes by whenever we're unloading the cargo and casts her eyes over your rear end every time you bend down to pick up the crates."
"Don't be silly," he said, almost slicing his finger as he gutted a fish, his hands suddenly having become somewhat unsteady.
"She does, walks by two or three times."
"Who?"
"I dunno, do I? Small lass, glasses, brown hair, long skirt, looks quite humble."
"By humble you mean ugly?"
"No, humble."
The catch that Skipper Bruce, First Mate Glen, Deck Hand Chris and Cabin Boy Matt had brought in that morning was quite large and the sun was low in the sky as they prepared to leave the store after a serious afternoon of gutting, a distinct smell of marine life emanating from their clothes.
Skipper Bruce, who was rarely shocked by anything, almost leapt out of his skin as he opened the door to find Mairi stood looking up at him, the same beaming grin on her face.
"Hey, Skipper," she said.
"Er, hey," replied Skipper Bruce. "How are you?"
"I'm fiiiiine, how are you?"
"OK."
"I was wondering if you wanted to go out later? Maybe we could catch a movie, or go for a walk, or have a drink or I could cook for you or..."
On the inside Skipper Bruce was panicking. His heart palpitated with fear, he desperately wanted to escape but he knew his crew were stood right behind him blocking his retreat, red spots began to form in front of his eyes and he suddenly felt extremely light headed. On the outside, Skipper Bruce looked completely normal.
"Er..." he said, the note of extreme horror in his voice totally inaudible so that he appeared quite calm.
"Only first I have to go and bury my fish. It died earlier after I decided it needed some exercise and took it for a walk in Kinburn Park. Maybe we went too far."
"I'm sorry," said Skipper Bruce. "I don't believe in burying fash, I believe in eating them. I couldn't be with someone who has their priorities wrong."
"Oh," replied Mairi, her smile disappearing momentarily. "OK, then, bye bye!"
Skipper Bruce watched her skip away as his vision returned and his heart rate returned to normal. "I need a drink," he said.
* * *
"So she owns a café?" asked Deck Hand Chris. Skipper Bruce nodded. "But did you see the state of those sausages?"
"Apparently all her cooking's like that," said First Mate Glen, who was trying to take his half-pint slowly. Heather still hadn't forgiven him for the Ethel incident which had, with great misfortune, occurred last time he'd drunk a little too quickly. Ethel, for her part, now approached the Pride of Lamond's crew with caution and always made sure that the word "JESUS" was prominent on her apron, just to be sure that they knew where she stood on such matters.
"How's the nounless Bible going?" Skipper Bruce asked Cabin Boy Matt.
"Bah, don't want to talk about it," replied Cabin Boy Matt dejectedly.
"Where've you got to?"
"Song of Songs. All about chuffin' women. And it's a nightmare. Listen to this:" Cabin Boy Matt pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. "Those of yours which can be sometimes large and sometimes small but which are usually round and attractive and which are in front are like two of those which prance and are shot and are run over and are young, like two of those young which are similar but which are not often run over as they rarely close enough to those which run over."
"What on earth was that?" asked Deck Hand Chris.
"Chapter 7 verse 3. Nightmare, isn't it. Still, it's all the Lord's work."
The others glanced at each other and swiftly downed their drinks.
* * *
When the Pride of Lamond came into port a few days later Skipper Bruce couldn't help but groan. There, on the quayside waiting for them, was Mairi. She waved excitedly as the vessel docked.
"Hey, Mairi," Skipped Bruce greeted her, throwing a crate of fish onto the quay a little too near her feet.
"Helloooooo," called Mairi. "How are you, Skipper Bruce?"
"Er, I'm well, thanks. How are you?"
"I'm really well, I've been preparing a new menu for my café as the old one wasn't very popular, people never came back. I've introduced some new and exciting dishes. I've got toad in the hole with real toads and choux pastries made of leather."
"Sounds... nice."
"So, Skipper, I just wanted you to know that, like, I really like you and would like to marry you and go everywhere with you."
Skipper Bruce felt panic setting in again.
"Er, look, Mairi, I don't really have a home, I kind of spend my life fishing, out at sea, you know. And, you know, fish have their, err, reefs, I guess, I don't know, and lobsters have their pots, but I don't have anywhere. "
"Oh," replied Mairi, her smile fading again.
"I just, you know, don't think you could cope."
"No," replied Mairi, her smile gone. "You're probably right."
"Bur I'll, er, I'll come to you café sometime," Skipper Bruce promised.
Mairi's smile returned. "OK," she beamed, and skipped off again.
"Did you just promise to go to her café?" asked Deck Hand Chris.
"Yeah," replied Skipper Bruce.
Deck Hand Chris pulled a face and bent down to pick up a crate of fish. At that moment, however, he remembered what Cabin Boy Matt had told him and whipped round.
There, stood admiring his rear end, stood a humble looking girl. She went red as she realised that Deck Hand Chris had noticed her looking.
Deck Hand Chris' heart fluttered for a second. Suddenly everything was very clear. The sun was dazzling, the wind picked out the feathers on the wings of the sea gulls, the fish he was carrying smelt more delicious than they'd ever smelt before, the laughter of the children seemed happier than he previously realised.
"Hello," he said to the girl.
"Hello," she replied. "I'm Nat."
"Hello Nat," Deck Hand Chris pronounced every single individual syllable of her delectable name. "I'm Deck Hand Chris."
"Hello Deck Hand Chris," said Nat, a humble smile appearing on her lips. And what lips they were! Deck Hand Chris thought they would taste amazing after a plate of herring.
"I believe we're going to set sail again soon," said Deck Hand Chris. "Would you... like to come?"
Nat smiled again. "I'd love to," she said. "But first let me say goodbye to my family, they'll wonder where I've gone."
"I don't think we'll have time for that," replied Deck Hand Chris. "No one who puts their hands to the rigging and looks back is fit for service on the Pride of Lamond."
Nat giggled. "Help me on board, then," she said, reaching out her hand.
Deck Hand Chris took it and smiled.
* * *
The real life Mairi is not a psychopath. She is perfectly lovely, if a wee bit dizzy, and the world would be a much worse off place without her. Her cooking has also improved somewhat in recent years.
K.Y.
