Summer Blossom

The morning after, after dressing in a far more elegant dress than yesterday; one from the elegant end of my wardrobe, a blue one, long and close fitting, with a deep neckline and back that finished a little lower than usual; I pulled my suitcase into the corridor with difficulty. Dragging on the floor, the weight was a little too much on account of all of my clothes and books. I sighed at the weight, dragging it with all of my strength. As I looked out into the corridor, I saw that the guest room door was wide open, and steam was coming from the en suite bathroom inside. Sebastian appeared beside me, and reached down to take my bag just as Peter emerged from his bathroom with ruffled wet hair, dressed in brown suit trousers and a crisp white shirt. He smiled, rubbing his head with a towel, which he dropped on the bed, never breaking my gaze.
‘Good morning,’ I smiled, letting go of the handle of my suitcase. Sebastian pulled it up with little difficulty and went downstairs with it, just as Lillian appeared by my side.
‘I’m excited; are you, Madeline?’ She said, slipping her arm into mine, linking them together and holding the bare skin on my forearm. I was still looking at Peter, who was now looking at both Lillian and I, smiling still.
‘Yes, definitely,’ I laughed, joining in with the excitement. Peter emerged from his room with his bag, his hair still slightly damp, lying in waves across his forehead. ‘Shall we be heading down?’ I asked Lillian, finding myself and looking down to her, then looking at Peter.
‘Yes,’ they both said, together, making Lillian giggle. Peter wrinkled his nose at me when he smiled, noting Lillian’s cuteness.
‘Should be a good trip, I’m flattered to have been invited along with you,’ Peter commented, as we all descended the staircase. He smiled; I didn’t know what to say to him. I could see my parents waiting at the bottom of the staircase, bags piled beside them, mine on top where Sebastian had just placed it.
‘I’m glad you’re coming,’ I said, immediately realizing I hadn’t said we, I had said I. ‘I mean, we, we’re glad you’re coming with us, as am I, I’m very glad, or glad, I’m glad you’re coming. We’re glad you’re coming.’ I laughed aloud at my own stupidity, and my complete clumsiness in answering him. I smiled, and he laughed at my poor attempt to cover up what I had said.
‘Thank you, I’m glad you’re glad,’ He laughed again, and I could feel a fire burning in my cheeks.
‘We’re going to eat on the ship, everyone, and it takes about half an hour to get there by car, and then we can board straight away.’ My father informed us, before lifting two bags and heading for the open front door. Peter and Sebastian followed, leaving an empty space next to my mother, and we watched them leave for the car with the bags.

The sight of the gardens and the house disappearing behind us felt unusual, for I had spent my entire summer sitting on the grass, inside the porch, on the empty patio. The oak tree looked bewildered, its branches mourning for my crouched figure with my books, or at least I hope it was mourning, for I would miss its comforting bows. The house looked stilled, frozen in time, although movement could not appear in the house for the inanimate bricks never had life; though, sometimes I was sure the house was alive. Lillian sat beside me, her hand creasing the fabric of her petticoats on her knee as she had pulled it up slightly to touch. Also watching the house disappear out of sight, growing smaller and smaller every second, she smiled to herself secretly. I thought about the summer days we had spent just her and I, alone in the house with Nancy, and the gardener who wandered through the daisies, forgetting that they were weeds, and gently picking bunches to give to his wife.
Sebastian and my father were discussing the weather, speaking about the changes in the summer months this year, and France’s usual heat. Lillian began to ask my mother about the weather in France at the moment, and the people, and the places we could visit. I thought about how unusual it was to suddenly surprise this unusually timed departure on us just hours before it took place.
The sky was a wonderfully pale blue, spotless of any clouds ready to spoil the azure tint that splashed onto the glass window, leaving a hint of the colour inside the windows fibers. I messed gently with the capped sleeves of my dress, where my arm was pressed against the side of the car, the leather feeling cool, and I rearranged myself to welcome the new coolness again and again on the journey. I could feel the anxiety building in my stomach, my chest cavity, and every breath welcomed the idea of the travel we were about to take, an adventure; who would know what it was to bring.

I was welcomed by the excited voices from every angle as we approached the port; where colours of clothes and voices blurred into each other, like a foreign market. I watched in wonder and awe as women in dresses and men in suits were gathering, their bags hung from arms and shoulders, around necks and across torsos. Children ran wild around the baggage that was being loaded into the storage compartment of the ship, large trunks full of mysterious things that only owners were custom to knowing were being hauled by men who were sweltering in the heat. Underneath the still blue sky, the port was alive, though soon the pavement and cobbles would be empty; people would soon be at sea. Shouts of children’s anxious and overwhelmed voices were all I could hear as the car ever so slowly steered into the maze of luggage and crowds of people. Watching from my seat by the window, the harbour seemed like a small city; houses painted pastel colours were stood in rows along the north side of the harbour, with small windows and chimneys like short, stumpy cigars.
The array of colours was gentle yet intimidating, hardly any green shrubbery was to be seen, and the few trees that graced the area were planted firmly next to the pastel houses, their branches looking withered, though their wistful leaves full of blossom and colour. The cobbled floor that we hit then set Lillian giggling, as she bobbed up and down on the seat next to me, laughing at the way her voice ricocheted and stammered. The car stopped then; perhaps our driver disliked the way the car felt on the cobbles, as it sent vibrations through the car and up to the roof where the baggage was tied down firmly. Sebastian climbed out of the door on the other side to me, and opened it, letting my father and Peter out, who then came round and opened the other door for my mother and I. As I stepped out of the stuffy car, the cool breeze of the ocean hit me, and I could feel the salt in the air. The scent of the sea filled my lungs, accompanied by the smell of fresh bread and fish. I searched around the shops nearby, trying to glance past the crowds of waiting people, to look for the bakery, though I could not see past the array of people bustling around the port.

I took my bag, deciding that the men in our party would not be able to carry that many bags after all, and thought I could help. It was soon removed from my hand by a doorman to the ship, who smiled at my shyly, as if he thought it was not allowed, and took my bag towards the ship. I gathered my father had spoken to them whilst I was lost in the magic of the harbour, and let him take it without a problem. I was too enthralled by the smells and sights to care where my dresses ended up at this moment. As I managed to follow them whilst still searching my surrounding for everything and anything interesting; which was an overwhelming amount of things, I felt the floor change beneath me and realised I was walking on a makeshift wooden bridge way to the entrance of the ship. The ropes on the sides were flimsy, and I held onto the one on my right gently, feeling it loose and rather useless in its job. The wooden slats below had thin splits between them, and below I could see the darkness of the water in the harbour. I peered over the edge of the makeshift bridge way and looked down into the water, at the side of the ship, which lapped gently on the painted metal. Still waking towards the door, where the colour seemed to leap from with the bright wallpaper and the carefully polished wood of the flooring, I glanced up, and up. The ship towered above me, and at least 60 feet above my head was the top deck; the metal chain of the raining being swung by a group of small children being watched over by two women, one older and one youthfully young for a mother. The windows along the side of the ship were small, portholes, and reminded me of stories I had read of pirate ships in days hidden away in the library when I was a child, though only a few years ago. Stepping over the threshold, which was an airtight metal rim to the door, I looked at the door panel; the sort of handle that I had heard of in submarines in books and history books was situated in the centre, and I had an urge to touch it, as its metal looked so shiny and unreal.
Inside, the ship seemed to clean, new; I could feel the newly furnished walls radiating the cool and sweet scent of oak, which had recently been polished. A large entrance hall welcomed us, with stairs that spun themselves into an oval shape towards the elegantly plastered ceiling, which hosted flowers, ivy and intricate detail on trees sculpted into the plaster work. The centre of the floor was carpeted, and the floral pattern was gentle and subtle; I took in the detail around the room and then noticed I was being watched. Peter continued to look at me curiously as I looked back at him, having noticed his peculiar expression when scrutinising me. He then turned his gaze to the ceiling, and I followed his eyes as he inspected the patterns in the plaster, then he looked to the floor, watching the floral pattern change colour in the light as the large glass window to the east shimmered with the still rising sun. He had taken in all of the surrounding just as I had, attempting to familiarise himself with them. I saw the young man who had kindly relieved me of my large bag, and my father nodded to us all to follow him in his pursuit to our rooms. I stepped up the first step on the spiral staircase, leaning my hand on the banister, which felt smooth and sleek. I fell behind as we made our way around the corridors of the ship, filled with bustling people much like outside, women in elegant dresses and men in charming suits, with young children wearing smiles and laughter on their mouths. I admired the paintings along the corridors, and the ceilings which all had their own character in design. The entrances to corridors were gently elegant, with metal framework in intertwining patterns of ivy, crawling around the ship. I watched my family and Peter ahead of me, still following the men with our baggage, wandering through the maze of cavernous corridors to the ship. I wondered how on earth I would ever get used to this labyrinth I would call home for the next few weeks. Then I laughed; as I was someone to decline an adventure in a mysterious maze!
As I had been lost in my thoughts of investigating the ships core, I had missed the conversation a few feet ahead of me. My father looked puzzled, and I thought I saw frustration flicker across his face, then it disintegrated into a sympathetic smile towards the young man in a ship uniform which I had come to notice through the trip in the ship so far. I moved closer to them, trying to hear the last of the conversation, and I realised I was the topic.
‘Pardon me?’ I asked my mother, as she turned to look at me, a complacent expression clouding her face. She turned back to look at my father, who then turned to me.
‘You room has been involved in a little confusion. You will have to be situated somewhere else I’m afraid. Though, not too far from us, just at the end of this corridor.’ I looked up, along the corridor. The corridor ran what seemed to be the entire length of the ship. I laughed at my father’s smile, sympathy for the man having disappeared as he saw the humour in the situation, and then he slapped the back of the young man who had told us the news, who looked terribly worried he had ruined something great for us. If only he had known I could not care less. I nodded, squinting to focus the end of the corridor in reply to my fathers smile.
‘That’s perfectly fine,’ I smiled in turn at everyone who was looking at me, apart from Lillian, who had already welcomed herself into her room which was adjoining my parents. Sebastian and Peter leant against Sebastian’s door, which was opposite Lillian’s, and Peter’s was next door to that. My parents nodded to the employee who still held my bag firmly in his right hand; and I looked him up and down and smiled, wondering at his politeness at having not given in to the weight and dropped it in the confusion of the situation. He smiled, shyly again, and turned on his way to my room all the way down the corridor. I followed, watching his feet in front of me hitting the soft, new carpet. We reached the door, and he produced a key, unlocking the door and letting us in. It was small, compared to my room at home; but I adored it from the moment I set eyes on it.
The pale purple wallpaper was casting coloured purple light across the floor as the sun came in through the unusually large circular window. The bed was simple, slightly larger than a normal single bed, but looked comfortable and cosy. The employee set my bag down softly at the foot of the bed and held the key out to me, placing it in the palm of my open hand he nodded and left, closing the door to behind him but not shutting it. I turned to face the window again, and saw the wide open sea. A few fishing boats were beginning to move out of the way of the way I presumed we were to take when the boat was launched and the colour of their sails were perfectly fitting to a harbour such as that I had just experienced. I seated myself on the bed, looking out over the sea to the horizon, and then stood up again to reach for the window. I pushed it open with more force than I had expected to need to use, and was greeted by the screeching of seagulls. I realised then that I wanted to go and wave off the harbour; the people who I had never met, the children who would shout goodbyes to strangers who they may never see again. I wanted this sense of excitement and mystery. I locked my door behind me with the key I had been given, and slipped it into my secrete dress pocket. I made my way towards where I could see everyone stood, Lillian hopping from foot to foot in excitement at going on deck.

Rising up the steps that were surrounded by walls, the top of the stairwell opened up onto the wide decking, a terrace above the ship itself. The noise seemed to reach an enormous, unending crescendo as we surfaced on the deck. The deck was empty apart from around the edges, where everyone had lined up and leant over the railings. Small children pushed between adults’ legs and pressed their small fingers around the railings; peering down at the water and waving to strangers on the harbours edges. Underneath the tunnels that perched atop of the ship, which I imagined billowed steam and smoke or some sort of substance that was the produce of the tiresome yet ever struggling engines below the ship, I watched the sunlight of the early afternoon glimmer on the grand windows that lay directly above the entrance we had come through earlier. The ship was entirely alive; furrowing beneath, employees scattered about the ship worked hard as the crew above deck began to launch the boat. A groan from beneath the ship echoed and reverberated through the decking below us, forcing a creak to resonate around my feet. I felt a gentle shake, nothing too worrying, and heard the ship begin to moan in movement. Woken from a slumber, as if birth had just arrived and life was being pumped into its bones, the ship stretched out and set sail. The engines were aloud, surrounding the harbour, and people became more excited; waving and cheering.
A loud roar of goodbyes and laughter jumped into the air from below on the harbour’s edge, and was welcomed by waving arms, hurried messages shouted to families and friends and a gentle meandering of the boat as it pulled away ever so gently from the edge of the harbour into the great sea. I glanced over at Sebastian, who was leant against the railings with peter, Peter facing me, and Sebastian bent over with his elbows resting on the metal bars; his hands pressed together with fingers stretched into arcs. I saw Peter turn at that moment, averting his gaze from whatever had been interesting him, and stretch his arm up to wave to anyone who cared. His shirt pulled across his taught back, and I could see the tanned skin through the thin white material. Excitement burst through me; we were setting sail, and I longed to wave to the town and the country, the people and the houses. I stepped up between Sebastian and peter and leant against the railings, smiling to the crowd below who bustled together in a wave of movement. I pushed myself up a little against the railing, my shoulders rising with my smile. The breeze became cooler than, as if we had suddenly hit the secret wind of the ocean as we slowly left the harbour.
I smelt the tang of sea salt hit my face again, and my hair swirled around my eyes, blocking my view. I held it to the side of my face, and watched the faces of the people on the harbours stone steps and wall blur to unrecognisable and unfamiliar; although I knew none of them, I guaranteed myself that I would remember the scene and the details. Lapping against the bow of the ship, I could hear the slap of the waves on metal, and I looked down to see the splash stretch up and splatter across the black side of the ship. The water grew deeper and darker as we exited the harbour, and I realised that the bottom would be terribly far away for a few weeks; we really would be miles from land, in every direction. The thought excited me, and I leant over the railing to peer down at the printed letters on the ship below, reading upside down, and I gripped my fingers tightly around the bars. I felt a hand on my arm at that point, gently touching me as if to make sure if I let go I was still firmly stuck to the ship. I glanced up, wondering why Sebastian’s protective side had suddenly come back after all of these years, and saw Peters face; distant and uncaring to me looking back at him. He wasn’t even looking at me, how could he worry about me toppling over the ship without even looking at me? He turned in the opposite direction; his back still pressed against the railings as before, and looked up and down the line of people to his right. I frowned in his direction, hoping he would turn and see me.
The ship juddered, and his grip tightened to a burning sensation, perhaps due to the friction of his skin on mine, or perhaps maybe just the thought of this caused my skin to scorch. I continued to frown and then squirmed my arm out of his touch, twisting my wrist up and out of his grip, then touched the rolled up sleeve of his shirt as he spun his head and looked at me with confusion clouding his handsome features. I gently nodded to him; I didn’t need to be held on to, I laughed then. Had he realised how hard he was gripping my wrist? Why was he so worried? Then I saw the fear run over his forehead in a crinkle of skin, perhaps mistaken for an angry frown by anyone whose arm was not burning at this moment from tense gripping. How presumptuous I had been to think he was worried of my safety; he was facing the large expanse of deck, looking from people to deck to doors to deck again, his eyes avoiding the water for the time being. I smiled, clearing my frown and my teasing glance that laughed at him for worrying about me falling over into the water; I wanted him to let me know what sent the terror through his eyes; blue like the surrounding sea.
I held onto his sleeve still, my fingers tucking into the fold on his forearm. His skin was warm, and I could feel the hair on his forearm stretching itself into the air, as if he was cold. A smile scattered over his face, and then was lost to the sea breeze. I pulled him slightly closer to my side, and he continued to avoid looking at the sea. I wondered how I should handle the situation, how to make him more comfortable; would it be arrogant and ignorant of me to hold his hand and turn him to the ocean. Then his face changed, and he sighed. Whilst I was studying his fear and worry the ship had scraped through the harbour walls, just missing the wonky bricks at both sides, and we had escaped into the open sea at a speed that astonished me. He slowly turned, his eyes darting around the faces of the crowd who were now dispersing themselves around the deck of the ship, onto tables and benches, some children being shown different things as the coats grew in length in their view. His hand searched the railing for mine once I had let go of his shirt, and he placed a few fingers over the tips of mine, subtly, though didn’t attempt to hold my hand; contact with my steady hand may have been enough to convince him of the safety of the well-built ship. I had an urge to laugh; his colour came back and his cheeks flushed. Sebastian had disappeared, ignorant of the situation between Peter and I. I stood at looked out at the beaches stretching out in our view of the land, the golden and brown sand and the sea who’s spectrum of colour grew lighter and more vivid towards the land. Then I looked out to sea, the colour was so dark and empty, but so deep and full, it was so different to the water near the edge. Rolling over the ship the clouds looked fluffy and pale, forgiving the ocean for reflecting them and mellowing into see-through patterns blown across the sky as we sailed on.