Found, Alastair Macleod [sites to read books for free .txt] 📗

that she would pay for the fares and expenses. That swung it. Rarely had Miss Matheson been able to follow through an enquiry to this point – and never abroad. She would, she argued to herself, be able to give Karen the support she needed.

 

      By the time they got to Cadiz they were both exhausted with the travelling and the excitement of what they were undertaking, yet Karen insisted they look at the harbour.

      The port was a busy commercial one – huge container ships and tankers were tied up at massive jetties – cranes, trucks and forklifts busied to and fro.

Karen was suddenly hit with the knowledge that this was her father’s work – these ships and docks. He had been a fantasy, then a little bit of veil had been lifted now some of his reality was here.

      They took a taxi to El Puerto, smaller and quieter just up the coast.
Here in the Hotel Porto Sherry, overlooking, the bay, Miss Matheson quickly found the number of Francisco’s shipping offices from the barman, who spoke English well. She told him they were relatives of Francisco Escudero Marquez and that they wanted to meet him.

      The barman laughed.

 

  “He always has luck with the ladies!” He explained. “Look – sure I know him – he comes in here quite often. I will ring him now to meet you, say, for 7 o’clock, OK?”

 

After the call the barman told them a little about Francisco. He was about forty. He was ashore now, a manager in the shipping line, he’d been at sea for about twenty years – got up to Captain. Was he well off? Well, yes and no – he had a big pay, but he spent it all on his boat.

 

“You can see it out in the bay.” A large white motor yacht lay anchored there. “The Hidalgo – she’s a beauty.”

      “Is he married?” said Miss Matheson suddenly, a professional question, no doubt.

      “Well”, said the barman, “he was, but it broke up. He was away at sea too much.”

      “Children? persisted Miss Matheson.

      “No. He regrets that very much.” replied the barman. “It has made him a little, how you say, morose.”

      As the clock approached 7.00 pm they sat in the hotel lobby trying not to look anxious or curious. At each entrance they both swivelled their heads to the door.

A dark haired well dressed bearded man of medium build approached them from within the hotel.

 

“Ladies, you are expecting me?”

      Karen found her lips dry, words wouldn’t come out. Miss Matheson took over. She invited him to join them for dinner and he accepted.

      It was there that Miss Matheson explained why they had come to see him. Bewilderment, then astonishment, then disbelief.

 

“Are you sure?” Then reassured, joy swept over his face. He took Karen’s hands in his. “A daughter!” he exclaimed. There were many questions from Karen and from Enrico.

      Enrico insisted they come out that night to see his yacht. It was certainly grand and spotless, with spacious cabins, ensuite showers and a Jacuzzi. Karen could see it was his pride and joy.

      “But”, said Enrico, he was thinking of selling. “It has been very expensive getting it to this standard and I owe the bank a lot. My idea was to take people on paid trips up the coast, catering for them – a sort of luxury holiday.”

      Karen’s mind had been on a roller coaster all day, but with clarity she saw how she could help her father.

      He insisted they stay on the boat for the week they had planned. As the days went by she realised she loved the sea, the boat. Did her father care for her? She was sure of it. He was interested in everything about her, her past, her present. He confessed to her his love of the boat was great – so great it had wrecked his marriage – he’d learnt from that. He told them that while the boat was important, it was not everything.

 

He asked her to come and live with him on the boat – she was overcome. Somehow the boat seemed secure, protective.
She asked to see him alone on deck. Miss Matheson said she understood and stayed below watching television.

      Karen explained that she had money - quite a lot of money - nobody knew about it except her. She wanted him to have it to pay off the boat, but she said they would become partners – legal partners.

Karen said he’d have to understand that trust was difficult for her as she’d always had to look after herself – he was not to be insulted. He looked at his daughter – he understood – it’s what he would have proposed anyway – even families can fall out.

      Sometime after Karen and Miss Matheson got back, a sleek motor yacht moored in Inverness Harbour. With Miss Matheson’s help Karen had explained to her foster parents the ancestral research that had led to the discovery of Karen’s real father. Karen’s decision to go and live with her father was discussed at length, but eventually accepted. She was eighteen; she could do as she wanted.

 

They were somewhat relieved – she’d not been an easy girl – it was like sitting on a volcano – not quite knowing when it might explode.

      Karen insisted on carrying her own bags on board and stowing them below. As the boat pulled out she waved goodbye to Miss Matheson and her foster parents.

 

When they were well out to sea she went below, opened the holdall that held the money, and looked at it for a moment. She zipped the bag shut and then went on deck. She edged close to her father at the wheel as he began explaining how to steer the ship.

Imprint

Text: alastair macleod
Images: alastair macleod ;
Editing: alastair macleod
Translation: title typeset in courilike
Publication Date: 01-10-2013

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
first published in the short story collection "Strip of Light" in 2005