Rocking The Boat

Sylvia pushed the trolley slowly around the small supermarket, consulting the list on her tablet as she went. Provisioning the boat was always her job. It made sense for her to do it, rather than Jack; people would recognise him and then it would be all over Whitter that the President was on Dewdrop Island; people would be on the lookout for him and if he was seen with Sylvia, that would make things very awkward indeed. Sylvia, on the other hand, was just another customer, one of the regular sailing crowd.

She dressed the part, in navy blue slacks, flat canvas deck shoes and a white sweater. She always looked forward to her sailing weekends. It was refreshing to get out of the city, breathe in the fresh sea air, and spend time in the pretty little village that surrounded the main harbour of Dewdrop island. The huddle of quaint little houses with their whitewashed walls, terracotta roofs and climbing plants with flowers in all colours of the rainbow, never failed to charm her. 

The only ugly thing in the whole place was the hulking, rusting shell of a tanker lorry that had crashed there years ago and no-one had taken responsibility for moving it. The tank had eroded and slid onto the ground beside the cab. It looked worse every time they saw it. She wished Jack would write to the Dewdrop Island council and demand they remove it - but then they would know that the President was a regular visitor - something that Sylvia and Jack took great pains to hide.

She frowned at her list. The trolley was quite full already and she still had more things to get. It seemed that this week, they had run out of just about everything and especially heavy things, like bottled water, soft drinks, a box of wine and cleaning fluid. Carrying this lot to the boat was going to be a challenge. Jack should be on the boat by now, but she couldn't call him to help and risk them being seen together. The trolleys automatically jammed a few yards from the shop, so borrowing the trolley wasn't an option. She'd just have to manage.

Her purchases were bagged up - she was thankful for her sturdy Hessian bags-for-life, but they were, as she had expected, very heavy, and bulky. Still, she'd make it if she took it slowly and made frequent stops.

'Can I help you with that?' someone said.

Sylvia looked up and saw a young man standing in front of her. He was tall and his short-sleeved t-shirt revealed pretty impressive muscles under tanned skin. A couple of heavy shopping bags would pose no difficulty at all to him. Sylvia hesitated. At home in Sprawling, an offer like this from a stranger usually meant the person was involved in some kind of scam; they would either run off with the shopping, or be some kind of oddball who'd liked the look of her, and would take her acceptance as an excuse to stalk her for months.

This guy didn't look like an oddball. He had an intelligent, honest face and a charming, slightly lopsided smile. 'It's okay, really,' he said, seeing her hesitation. 'I just want to help. I'm not a thief or a loony. I could see you were struggling with all that stuff.'

People in Dewdrop were friendlier than people in Sprawling, Sylvia had noticed. They would say hello simply to be friendly and polite; random strangers at the quay would help with mooring up, which, seeing as Jack had to stay out of sight, Sylvia was always grateful for. She tried to recall if this young man was one of the people who used to tie the boat up for them. He might have been, but she wasn't sure. 'Okay, thanks,' she said, and the young man took the bags from her.

'Where to?'

'Mooring number nine, The White Swan,' she said.

The young man started walking. He didn't seem to find the bags heavy at all, and before too long, they had reached Jack's boat. The hatches were closed, although that was to be expected. Jack would usually shut himself up inside the boat to avoid being seen. Sylvia had a key.

'Do you want help putting all this away?' the young man asked.

'I think I can manage,' Sylvia said. 'Just pop it all down on the deck.' She felt awkward as the young man bounded up the gangplank and put the bags down. He'd been very helpful and it would have been good form to offer him a drink - but she couldn't let him run into Jack. She couldn't be sure that he wasn't a Whitter spy, sent to check out a rumour that Jack Ward spent weekends on his secret yacht with his fancy woman.

Her dilemma was solved when her phone rang. Jack. 'I'm at the boat,' she said. 'Where are you?'

'I'm really sorry, but the Senate session has significantly over-run. I won't be able to get there until tomorrow morning. Will you be okay on your own for tonight?'

'Of course,' she said, trying her best to hide her disappointment. The time she got to spend with Jack as his lover, rather than a work colleague, was short enough as it was. She resented anything that ate into that time. 'I've got my key and I've got the provisions. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow.'

She clicked the phone off and turned to the young man. At least she wouldn't have to appear so terribly rude and send him away. 'That was my partner. I thought he was down below but apparently he's still in Sprawling. So a bit of help would be welcome after all.'

'No problem,' he said.

Sylvia wondered if it was actually wise to let the young man know that her partner wasn't around - she'd be safer if he thought her partner was going to show up any minute; but her gut feeling was telling her this guy really was okay and just wanted to help, as he'd said. When everything was put away, he went up on deck and made for the plank. He wasn't waiting around for any reward or even a thank you.

'Wait,' Sylvia called after him. 'Thank you.'

'My pleasure,' he said. 'If the gods gave me a strong body, the least I can do is use it.'

'Can I buy you a drink? Supper, maybe?' She pointed to the small taverna opposite the boat. She'd often thought she'd like to eat there, but eating out was never usually possible, because the staff would surely recognise Jack. She could go there with this young man and nobody would comment or badger them, or take pictures to post on Whitter. People might think she was a cradle-snatcher; they might even assume she was his mother; but since this young man wasn't famous, that was as far as it would go.

'A drink would be good. I'm not sure what I did merits a whole meal, so I'll pay for my own food.'

'All right,' Sylvia said. 'That's a deal. Let's go. I'm Sylvia, by the way.'

'Pleased to meet you. I'm Nathan.'

Sylvia felt a little concerned at first that she and Nathan would find very little to talk about, but her fears quickly proved unfounded when she asked him what he did for a living.

'I'm in my last year of college,' he said. 'I'm studying politics.'

Well, there was common ground, for a start, Sylvia thought. 'What do you think you'll do with that?'

'I might be overly ambitious here,' he said, 'but I'd like to work in government. I know the President has a team of people who watch social media for him and compile statistics and advise him about all of that. I don't know if they'd take anyone fresh out of college, though.'

Sylvia laughed. 'You know something? Today might just be your lucky day. That team you just mentioned - I'm the head of it. Sylvia Brightman. We have been known to take college graduates, if they're good. Our IT guy was one, although he did work for us one summer as an intern.'

'So do you have any advice for someone like me?'

'You have a few months to go - have you chosen your options?'

'Almost. I thought statistics, history of political speeches, and social media in politics.'

'Perfect. How are your grades?'

'Good. 'A' average and a distinction for handing in work on time.'

'You sound promising,' Sylvia said. 'I don't have any vacancies just now, but in a few months, who knows?' She opened her purse and took out her business card to give to him. 'Give me a call when you graduate and I'll see what I can do. If I don't have any vacancies myself at the time, there might be some other opening you can look into so you can get some experience while you're waiting.'

'Thanks, I'll do that.'

'What's your last name, Nathan, so I can look out for you?'

'It's Tate. Nathan Tate.'

'That name's familiar,' Sylvia said, frowning. She was certain she'd heard the name before.

'Really?' Nathan looked faintly concerned.

'Yes, it definitely rings a bell. Have you contacted the President's Office before?'

'No. The nearest I got was calling in something suspicious I saw when I was visiting the ADDS facility in Proton.'

'That's it,' Sylvia said. 'I remember now. It was your evidence which nailed the guy who tried to shoot down Innovia One.'

'Yes. That was me.' He seemed relieved. Sylvia couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something; and that made her wary. After all, Jorge had seemed a pleasant, helpful type, too, until he'd been exposed as a mole for the Freedom From Politics organisation. 'In fact it was that day that aroused my interest in politics. Until that point I was going to go into building and construction.'

'That's quite a change.'

'Yeah. I know. All through school I never really knew what I wanted to do as a career and then I got to the point where I had to choose something. I thought I wanted to be outdoors, doing physical work, but I realised that it wasn't enough. I needed something to stretch my mind, as well. So I switched. People said I'd wasted a year, but I don't think so. I know how to build a wall. You never know when that might come in handy.'

'I'll bear that in mind if any of my friends need a builder,' Sylvia said. 'So you don't miss being outdoors doing physical stuff?'

'As long as I can get out in my spare time, I can handle it,' he grinned. 'That's kind of why I'm here. When I get a few days off, I often go hiking somewhere. Dewdrop has a coastal path that's supposed to have stunning views.'

'You don't sail, then?'

'Never tried it, although it looks like fun. I'd like to give it a go one day. It's on my list.'

Sylvia looked at him. Was she being paranoid? Had she been living in Sprawling too long, where every other person had an ulterior motive? Could he really be a mole as well? Surely not, if he'd handed Jed Hart over. A FFP supporter would never do that.

'You must have known people who were on Innovia One that day,' Nathan said.

'I was on board myself,' Sylvia said, quietly.

'That must have been terrifying,' Nathan said.

'It was,' she replied, pushing a potato around her plate with her fork. 'I still have nightmares about it. I thought that was it, that I was going to die.'

Nathan said nothing.

'It was pretty incredible what happened,' she said. 'Who would have thought a superhero would appear out of nowhere, catch the plane and carry it to the nearest airport?'

'Yeah. I don't think anybody was expecting that.'

'I did a bit of research at the time,' Sylvia said. 'Seems the same guy had foiled a few petty crimes but had managed to escape much publicity. He's really high profile now, yet nobody knows who the heck he is. Beats me how he does it. The President was never able to thank him personally for what he did.'

'I expect if he'd wanted thanks, he'd have stuck around for it,' Nathan shrugged. 'Strikes me he wants to stay out of the limelight.'

'I suppose. But Jack Ward is pretty big on giving people credit and thanks where it's due, so he feels the lack of closure, I think. Especially since Power Blaster saved his life a second time, at that Longest Day speech in Northlake.'

'My guess is that if Power Blaster wants us to know who he is, then he'll tell us,' Nathan said.

Just then, Sylvia's phone rang. She picked it up, wondering if it would be Jack, but the caller ID simply said, 'Office'. One of her team. Even though this was a rare day off for Sylvia, she was never out of touch. 'Sorry, Nathan, I need to take this.'

'Go ahead,' he said. 'Don't mind me.'

'Yes?' Sylvia spoke brightly into her tablet phone. 'Hello, Shanna, what can I do for you? No, it's absolutely fine - I said to call if you had any problems at all, and I meant it. OK. Right. Oh, that man is a nuisance. What's his query? Ah. That is nothing to do with us, Shanna. Tell him he needs to talk to the Treasury about that. Marcus will know. Aside from that, is everything okay? Good. Don't hesitate to call if there's anything else, but don't you stay too much longer. It's gone six. You too. 'Bye.'

She slipped her phone back in her bag. 'New girl,' Sylvia said. 'Only been with us a week, but it happened that one of the others had holiday, too, another had a doctor's appointment today and the other one was on their break when the office pain in the backside decided to go in and hassle her.'

'There's always one, right?'

'There certainly is,' Sylvia smiled. 'So what's your plan for your trip?'

'I'll start out early tomorrow morning and walk the coast path. Do the round trip; chill out in the evening and head back to Sprawling some time the day after. You?'

'We were planning to circumnavigate the island tomorrow, but since I don't know what time my partner will get here, I'm not expecting there to be time to do that. We both have to be back in Sprawling the day after, as well, so it doesn't look like we'll get very far. Still, it's good to be out of the city. It's relaxing to be on the boat, even if we stay in dock.'

'Must be disappointing, though.'

'A little, but he may well get here in time to get to a nice bay we can anchor in and eat some of that food I just bought.'

When Sylvia returned to the yacht it was almost dark. Nathan insisted on walking her back and wouldn't leave until he'd seen her safely inside. Such a young gentleman, she thought, as she watched him walk briskly away towards the guest house he was staying in. That reason alone made her think she'd like him on her team some day. She hoped his work was as good as his manners. She closed and locked the hatch and settled down for a night by herself.

**

In the early hours of the morning, three figures dressed entirely in black, their faces covered, crept down to the quayside. Two of them carried a large, heavy bag between them. They stopped in front of the row of yachts and put the bag down. Their leader counted the boats. 'Fourteen,' he said, 'and only twelve bombs.'

'So which two boats do we spare?'

'None of them will be spared, Kitch. They'll all suffer damage. Even the two we miss out will need repairs. If twelve are completely destroyed that will be statement enough. I say we miss out the two smallest ones. I mean, they are all disgusting shows of excess wealth, but if we have to choose then it has to be that the most ostentatious go first.'

Kitch cast his eyes along the row of moored boats. Two of them were indeed smaller than the rest; the Early Bird, and the White Swan. Jack Ward had purposely chosen a smaller vessel, knowing that people would assume the President of Innovia would go for something showy. Had Kitch and his friends been aware of this, The White Swan would have been the first boat to be blown up. Jack Ward, after all, was responsible for the policies which allowed some people to be able to afford floating gin palaces while others starved.

'OK,' the leader said. 'On my signal.'

Twelve explosions ripped through the silent night in quick succession. Three people asleep on three of the yachts died instantly; the explosions destroyed five boats completely and severely damaged others. Shrapnel and burning pieces of wood flew into the air; even the two yachts the group had decided to spare were aflame. There was no-one on board the Early Bird; on the White Swan, Sylvia woke from a nightmare in which she was on Innovia One again and it was falling from the sky in flames, and Power Blaster was not there to save it. She woke to find the yacht in flames and acrid smoke pouring in through the open porthole. She found the fire extinguisher with difficulty as her eyes were streaming and it was hard to see anything. She thought the fire was on deck; she had to get out and deal with it; but the cabin was full of smoke, and as she felt for the key in the hatch and tried to turn it, it fell onto the floor. Gasping and coughing, Sylvia tried to find it, feeling all around in vain until she passed out.

Power Blaster had arrived on the scene a few minutes earlier, and had hefted up the hulk of the old tanker lorry, flown with it to the harbour, and used it to scoop up large quantities of sea water he could use to douse the flames. By the time the fire-fighters got there, most of the fires were out, and there was little left for them to do. Power Blaster had no way of knowing which of the boats were occupied, although it was clear there would be nothing he could do for most of the people who had chosen to sleep on board that night. The White Swan was nearest to him; he could see a pair of deck shoes next to the hatch, suggesting there was someone inside.

One kick from Power Blaster and the locked hatch splintered. He shielded his face with his cape and went in. Sylvia was lying at his feet. Power Blaster scooped her up effortlessly and laid her gently on the quayside. She did not seem to be breathing. He was about to administer CPR when the people who'd started to come running from the village arrived at the scene.

'Who can do CPR?' Power Blaster shouted to them. A man stepped forward and started working on Sylvia while Power Blaster flew from boat to boat looking for other survivors. Four more people were saved, including a six year old child.

Sylvia spluttered and coughed as her lungs started working again. She managed to sit up and look around. Power Blaster, his face still covered by his cloak, was handing the child to a paramedic on shore. The Superhero was just a few feet away from her; if only he'd uncover his face, she'd get a good look at him. She thought for a moment that he was going to show himself, just as he turned to look right at her, as if checking that she was all right. His eyes met hers for a moment, but the darkness and the smoke and the fact his face was mostly covered meant that she couldn't get a good impression of him; she couldn't even make out the colour of his eyes.

He looked away from her, glanced around the scene to make sure that he'd done all he could, and that the emergency services were coping adequately with the aftermath, and flew away, as enigmatic as ever.

The paramedics insisted upon taking Sylvia to the Dewdrop Hospital to be fully checked out, and she was still there in the morning when Jack Ward arrived. He told the nurses that one of his staff had been caught in the explosion and he had come to check on her. The nurses seemed to believe that, and much as Sylvia wanted to throw herself into Jack's arms, she couldn't do it. She had to pretend she was only being visited by her boss.

As well as Sylvia, Jack visited all those who had been injured and kept in the hospital. He'd seen the news of the disaster on his news feed, he said, and had flown straight over. He neglected to mention that he'd been halfway through the flight to his planned rendezvous with Sylvia when the story had broken.

As Jack did the rounds of victims, Sylvia was discharged. She did not wait for Jack, but went back to the boat. White Swan had been incredibly lucky. Aside from burns on the port side, much of the interior blackened with smoke damage and the broken hatch Power Blaster had kicked in, the yacht was intact. A good clean and a new hatch and she would be as good as new; but others had not been so fortunate. Blackened hulls and floating debris was all that was left of some of them.

People had already left bunches of flowers on the quay in memorial to those who had lost their lives. Sylvia looked at them, and read the cards. She realised she'd known some of those people. She'd never known their names, but she had known them by their boats, the names of which appeared on the card. Mrs. Queen of Sprawling was gone and so were Mr and Mrs Sealegs. Sylvia stood quietly for a few moments out of respect for these people whose real names she had only just learned, before boarding White Swan to assess the damage. It was heart-breaking. This wasn't just a boat to Sylvia. It was her love-nest, and the scene of so many memories. She sank onto a seat which smelled of smoke, and cried.

'We can clean her up,' a soft voice said behind her. 'We were lucky.'

Jack, wearing a cap, sunglasses and casual clothes, came down the companionway. Without his smart suit he was barely recognisable as the President; but Sylvia knew him right away. 'Oh, Jack,' she cried, and clung to him.

'Thank the gods you weren't killed,' Jack whispered into her hair.

'Power Blaster saved me,' she said. 'Again.'

'You get a look at him?' Jack asked. 'I still haven't personally thanked him for the previous occasions when he's saved our bacon.'

'I didn't, sorry. I was unconscious when he kicked the door in and carried me out. I saw him when I came round, but he had his cape over his face - I guess he can't breathe smoke any more than the rest of us can - and he didn't show his face before he flew off. I don't think he wants to be recognised, or thanked by anybody. That's what Nathan said.'

'Nathan?'

'You remember the boy who called in the missile strike on Innovia One? Nathan Tate?'

'Sure. I wanted to meet him back then to thank him but my schedule was too tight - I could only write him a thank you letter.'

'Well, he's here. Hiking around the coast path. I met him yesterday. He helped me with the shopping and I bought him a drink - and only then found out who he was.'

'You must point him out,' Jack said.

'If I see him again, I will,' Sylvia said. 'I expect he's somewhere on the path by now, but he did say he'd be back here this evening. Failing that, I found out that he's studying political analysis, and his ambition is to work for us. What happened with Innovia One inspired him, I think. Anyway, I gave him my card so he can contact me when he qualifies. He's a nice young man. If his references check out, I'd be inclined to consider him next time we have a vacancy.'

'Good. Now, before we start cleaning up here, we'll need to take pictures of the damage so I can send them over to the insurance company. I've already contacted the firm who built her and the man is coming over this afternoon to give me a quote for repairs. We won't be able to take her out this time, and it doesn't look like we can stay aboard tonight.'

'You want me to go home?' Sylvia asked.

'No,' Jack said, his lips brushing her hair. 'I want to be with you tonight, even more so after all this. I nearly lost you. I went online and booked a room in the Harbour View guest house in your name. You'll need to go over there this afternoon and check in. I'll join you for dinner. The restaurant there is always rather dimly lit, so if I keep my hat and shades on, and don't shave, and let you do all the ordering, people will never guess it's me, especially if I stage a goodbye and a wave off at the airport, so the public think the President has gone back to Sprawling.'

'What about Melie?'

'She knew I was sailing this weekend.'

'But won't she see reports of your staged goodbye and expect you home?'

'Unlikely - she's gone to a spa in Lavaland. She'll be covered in volcanic mud or be up to her boobs in foul smelling water, or something. In any case, she knows that I use the yacht to get away from it all, and it won't surprise her that I pretended to leave to throw people off the scent.'

'I should be able to point Nathan Tate out to you, then. I think that's where he was staying.'

The Harbour View Guest house was a quaint hotel built into the rocky cliffs, so that every room boasted a sea view. It extended upwards rather than outwards and the facilities normally found on a hotel's ground floor were spread over numerous levels. Reception, the bar area and a dance floor were the first things Sylvia saw when she went to check in. The restaurant/dining area was on a mezzanine floor above, so diners could watch people dancing as they ate. While she waited for the receptionist to finish a phone call, Sylvia looked up at it.

'Sorry to keep you,' the receptionist said. 'How can I help?'

'I have a reservation. The name is Brightman.'

'Yes, I have it. You're on the top floor, room 112 - the penthouse suite, yes?'

'Er, yes,' Sylvia said. Jack hadn't told her he'd gone for the penthouse, but it was hardly surprising, especially when the receptionist told her that room 112 was served by its own elevator, for which she'd need a special key card.

'Do you want to make a dinner reservation for this evening, Ms. Brightman?'

Normally, they'd eat on the boat - find a secluded bay and enjoy a romantic meal on deck. That wouldn't be possible tonight. Eating hidden away in the cabin would be unpleasant, even if it was safe to use the oven, which it might not be. 'Do you have a table free in one of the alcoves? My partner and I would like to have a private meal.'

'Of course. I'll reserve a table for two in the West Alcove - would eight o'clock suit you?'

'That sounds perfect,' Sylvia said.

A porter carried her bag up to the room. She tipped him and went out onto the balcony. The afternoon sun was warm, and sitting on a sun lounger soaking it up made Sylvia feel more human than she had since the bombings. The view, normally charming, was marred today by the clean up operations and the parts of boats still floating in the water. She turned the sun lounger around so that the unpleasantness was behind her, and instead looked out to sea at the other islands.

She wondered which room Nathan was in. As a student, no doubt one of the smaller, cheaper rooms lower down. Not that he'd be there now - he'd still be on the coast path somewhere. Sylvia had once considered walking the path herself, one weekend when Jack had been unable to join her at all, but had been put off when she read that even at a brisk pace, it would take all day to get round.

She went to the lobby to meet Jack when he called. He had changed into a brightly coloured casual shirt, shorts and sandals. He wore sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat. People were used to seeing the President in a smart, expensive suit; that, and the fact that he was known to have left the island, meant no-one paid him any attention as he sat in the lobby engrossed in his tablet device. He hadn't bought a drink at the bar, though, in case the barman recognised his voice.

Sylvia took him up to the room, where they could finally be alone and in comfort. He took her in his arms. 'I'm so sorry this happened,' he said. 'Some faction must have found out I have a boat here.'

'I don't think that's it,' Sylvia said. 'I watched the news just now. The Fiscal Equality Movement have claimed responsibility. It seems it was a strike against rich people in general, not specifically against you. Which makes sense - the two boats that weren't directly hit were us and Early Bird - the two smallest. There was no mention in the report of you, except that you flew over and visited the hospital.'

'That's a relief. I'd hate to think those people died because of me; and we don't have to make new arrangements. Gods, Sylvia, I love you. To think I almost lost you.'

'Well, you didn't. Thanks to Power Blaster again.'

'Somebody, somewhere must know where that guy comes from,' Jack said. 'I'll put out a press release, offering a reward...'

'Don't,' Sylvia said. 'He doesn't want to be found. If anybody knows, I expect he's sworn them to secrecy - and how do we know he won't harm anyone who gives him away?'

'He wouldn't, surely... but you're right. I guess if Power Blaster wanted people to know who he was and where he came from, he'd have issued a press release himself. He must value his privacy as much as we do.' He kissed her, deeply.

That evening, Jack, still wearing the hat and sunglasses, sat with Sylvia at the secluded table. He did not speak to the waiter - Sylvia did all the ordering. The waiter seemed to accept all this as normal. No doubt the private tables were sought after by many couples who were married to other people. Perhaps Jack had chosen the place because it was known for its discretion.

The alcove afforded a good view of the dance floor and the bar, and as the evening wore on, Sylvia couldn't help but look out for Nathan. They were on their dessert course when she spotted him. He was chatting to a young woman with highlighted blonde hair who was wearing a skimpy, luminous pink dress. She looked tiny and almost child-like beside him, but the size of her breasts proved she was no child. He leaned forward and said something to her. She laughed. They touched their drink glasses together as if toasting something, and took a sip.

'I can see Nathan,' Sylvia said, leaning forward to speak quietly to Jack. 'He's the guy talking to that girl in the glow-in-the-dark dress. If you want I could get a message to him and get him to come up here, or up to our room if you wanted to talk to him, see if you think he'd work well on my team.'

'He looks rather busy just now,' Jack said.

Sylvia looked back at Nathan. He and the blonde were kissing now, urgently and passionately. 'Oh. Looks like it. Funny, he didn't mention that his girlfriend was here.'

'That's because she isn't his girlfriend. Not yet, at least. I was watching him. He just pulled her.'

'Really?'

'Yes. I'm a bloke, remember. I know pulling technique when I see it. And he's good at it.'

'A man like him wouldn't have to try too hard,' Sylvia commented.

'Do I detect a note of jealousy there? Perhaps a bit of resentment that he didn't hit on you?'

'Don't be silly, Jack. Why would I be jealous of that girl when I have you? Besides, I mentioned early on to Nathan that I was expecting my partner to arrive so he would have known I wasn't on the market. Not to mention the fact I'm nearly old enough to be his mother. I'll tell you something, though.' She watched Nathan as he tangled the fingers of one hand in the girl's hair and stroked her tanned back with the other. The girl, in turn, seemed to be devouring Nathan with insatiable hunger. 'Watching those two going at it is kind of turning me on. I think we should get the bill and go back to our room.'

'I second that,' Jack said.

Sylvia expected to sleep like the proverbial log that night. It had been an emotionally exhausting day, but she was now in a comfortable, warm bed, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved. She dozed a little, but as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, she was wide awake. She shifted position and then gasped and clutched her leg as a cramp violently contracted the muscles in her calf.

'You okay?' Jack asked.

'Cramp,' Sylvia said, through clenched teeth. 'I'll be okay in a minute. Go back to sleep.'

'I wasn't asleep,' he said. 'I woke up about an hour ago and couldn't drift off again. I'm wide awake, actually.'

'Me, too,' Sylvia said. 'Enough to get up, but it's so early...'

'Seeing as we are both wide awake, it might be a good time to go down to the yacht and start cleaning up,' Jack said, 'before anyone else gets up, while nobody is around to see me.'

'Yes,' Sylvia said. 'That's a good idea.'

The marina was indeed deserted. The only sound was water lapping against the remaining boats. The sun was peeping over the horizon as Sylvia and Jack reached the yacht. 'I reckon we've got an hour or two before people start getting up,' Jack said, pulling the hosepipe out of the cockpit locker.

'Nobody gets up before eight when they're on holiday, which most people here are; and it's the weekend, so the residents will lie in, too. I'd thought I'd have to get somebody in to do this. I'm glad I get to sort the old girl out myself for once.'

Sylvia laughed. 'Most people aren't anything like as keen to do cleaning.'

'When do I ever get the chance to do cleaning?' Jack shrugged. He went ashore and attached the hose to the dockside water supply, and turned the tap. A jet of water burst from the nozzle, and the black soot began to vanish. Jack came aboard and took the hose, while Sylvia began scrubbing the soot from the nooks and crannies.

After about five minutes, they were startled by a voice.

'Good morning, Sylvia, I'm pleased to see you're all right, they said you were taken to hosp... Mr. President?'

Nathan Tate was beside the boat, dressed in running gear and jogging on the spot. That some holiday-makers might have a strict training regime, including an early morning run, had not occurred to either of them.

'You must be Nathan,' Jack said, recovering quickly from the shock of being recognised. 

'Sylvia told me all about you. You were a great help, I understand.'

'She did? I was?'

'You carried my shopping home the day I arrived, remember?' Sylvia said.

'Oh. Yes. The shopping. Do you need any help cleaning up?'

'Well...' Sylvia felt embarrassed at being seen with the President by a relative stranger.

'It'll get done much faster if there are three of us, and I can help if anything needs lifting.'

'He's right, Sylve,' Jack said. 'We do always struggle with the dinghy when there are just two of us. He's seen us together, now, so there's no point trying to hide it from him.'

'Okay,' Sylvia said, 'so long as we're not keeping you from your run, or your girlfriend.'

'I've nearly finished the run, and I'm in no hurry to get back to Nikki. I really only wanted a holiday romance and she's talking about coming back here for our wedding.' Nathan said, with a grin. He came aboard and picked up a broom.

Jack laughed and slapped him on the back. 'What it is to be young,' he said. 'I remember it well.'

Sylvia glared at him. 'Don't go getting too nostalgic,' she said.

'I'm going to catch the early ferry,' Nathan said. 'I just hope she doesn't come looking for me in Sprawling. If I'm going to do something like that again, I'll have to use a false name or something. Where do you want me to start?'

'You can help me shift the dinghy,' Jack said. The two men went forward. Sylvia was relieved - the dinghy was heavy and unwieldy, and although Jack was strong, she never felt quite equal to the task. She was always sure she would drop her end, or slip and fall, and it was always a palaver. With Nathan to help, moving the dinghy looked almost effortless.

Nathan had been right when he said that the clean-up would take less time with three. 

Within an hour, the White Swan looked almost as good as new, apart from the broken door and other minor damage. 

'What did that?' Nathan asked, fingering the splintered wood.

'Power Blaster kicked the door in to get me out,' Sylvia said. Nathan's eyes widened a little. 'If not for him, I'd probably be dead. I'd rather not think about that. I think we should have a drink and a bit of breakfast. Some of my shopping survived - there's tea, coffee, milk, cereal, bread - will you join us, Nathan?'

'I'd love to,' he said. He pitched in helping to prepare breakfast, too. No doubt he was trying to impress Sylvia as a possible future employer, but all the same, he had a cheerful and willing disposition that would be difficult to completely fake. It also gave them a chance to talk to him seriously.

'You've been a great help, Nathan,' Jack said, 'but you must continue to help us.'

'What else do you need me to do?' Nathan asked.

'You've seen Sylvia and I here together,' Jack said. 'You seem like an intelligent young man, so I'm sure you've worked out by now that we weren't here to write speeches.'

'No, sir, I mean yes, sir.' Nathan's cheeks flushed. While no stranger to the concept of romantic getaways, this was the President he was talking to.

'I'm sure you understand how potentially damaging it could be to my office and indeed the country if this secret got out.'

'I understand perfectly, sir.'

'Do you promise to keep our secret?' Sylvia asked.

'Absolutely,' Nathan said. 'I'm good at keeping secrets. I've been good at keeping my own, anyway.'

'Thank you, Nathan,' Sylvia said. 'For everything you've done for us. You've been so helpful. You have a real 'can do' attitude. I hope you'll contact me when you're looking for a job.'

'I will,' Nathan said. 'If you'll excuse me, though, I really need to go take a shower and pack if I'm going to get that early ferry. Good day, Mr. President. I hope we'll meet again.'

They watched him break into a jog as he headed for the guest house. 'What a charming young man,' Jack said. 'I hope we'll be able to find him some work.'

'Well, Lissa has applied to start a family,' Sylvia said. 'I've just sent off a reference for her, so if that works out and the timing is right, then we might be able to offer him a few months maternity cover at least. The only reservation I have is that he might prove a little distracting for Maive and Shanna.'