The Turner's green MG rolled into Southampton in the early evening. After stopping in a café for something to eat, Patrick drove the last few miles down to the port and they waited to board the ferry. Whilst they waited in the queue, Shelagh said,
"You still haven't told us why we are in Southampton."
"We are in Southampton, because I was here, twenty years ago. I was here, with all my things in a bag over my shoulder, ready for what I thought was going to be an adventure. And here on the portside, as we are doing now, I waited to get on a boat, a boat which took me to the place that will be our destination tomorrow morning."
"And where is that?" Shelagh asked.
"Now, now, remember what I said. We are not yet on way there yet. I will tell you when we are at sea," Patrick teased.
"Oh…" Shelagh began to protest, but stopped when she saw Patrick's raised eyebrow.
Satisfied that he had irritated Shelagh sufficiently to stop her protesting, and ensuring she could not see him, he gave Timothy a sly wink. Timothy winked back at his father and then, putting on a concerned tone of voice, said.
"Dad, I think you might be being a bit unkind to Mum. Just think for a moment, Mum might not be the most confident of travellers. I mean, she used to be a nun. She never went on adventures, did she? That's not what nuns do. They pray, and make things, and eat cake. The only places where she really used to go to were places she could walk or cycle to. And most of the time, that was just to people's houses to deliver babies. So this must all be a bit scary for her."
"Thank you Timothy," Shelagh said, moving so that Patrick could see the glare on her face in the rear view mirror.
"Yes, I suppose so," Patrick mused, flashing Timothy another sly grin.
"Especially, as we both know, getting one bus back to Poplar was clearly far beyond her travelling capabilities!"
Patrick and Timothy looked at each other again and then laughed until they were crying and gasping for breath. Shelagh tried scowling at them, but her attempts were futile and a smile soon formed on her face.
"Enough of your cheek, young Timothy, or you might find yourself being thrown overboard."
They boarded the ferry, pulled the rucksacks out of the boot and made their way to the cabin which Patrick had reserved for them. Opening the door, they found that inside the main room were four bunks with white bedding, a small, slightly wonky table, and a metal clothes rail, and off it was a small cubical with a lavatory, sink and shower. The porthole was framed by a pair of red-checked curtains. The last rays of the summer evening sunshine shone into the cabin.
"Well this is alright isn't it?" Patrick said.
"I think we'll all be very comfortable," Shelagh replied.
"Did this used to have a gun poking out of it?" Timothy asked, pointing at the porthole.
"No Tim, this is a passenger ship, not a battleship," Patrick replied, "It's just a window."
The ferry pulled out of port just as the final rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. Timothy insisted on sleeping in one of the top bunks, and they put the Moses basket on the bottom bunk below him. Once the children were settled, Patrick and Shelagh sat on the other bottom bunk, waiting for them to fall asleep.
"Come up on deck with me," Patrick said after a while, "I could do with stretching my legs and getting some fresh air."
"What about the children?"
"They'll be alright. They can't go anywhere, can they? And we'll only be gone for a little while."
"Alright."
They left the cabin, closing the door gently behind them and then walked, hand-in-hand along the corridor, up two flights of stairs and out onto the deck. It was a warm night, the clear night sky was full of stars, a gentle breeze ruffled their hair and the inky-black sea was as calm as a millpond. They walked the length of the deck in silence, before stopping near the prow. They stood for a moment, looking out into the seemingly unending darkness of the sea in front of them. Then Patrick spoke.
"What a beautiful night."
"Isn't it?"
He sighed.
"Last time I did this journey the fog was so thick you could barely see from port side to starboard, the wind was howling and the waves crashed against the ship, causing it to lurch uncontrollably. I spent most of the journey projectile vomiting over the side."
When he saw the look on Shelagh's face he added.
"Sorry, you didn't need to know that."
Shelagh smiled and patted his arm.
"Yes, that day on that container ship was highly unpleasant," he finished.
"What were you doing on a container ship?" she asked.
"I told you earlier that, twenty years ago, I was in Southampton, waiting for a boat. We were put on whichever British vessel had room for us at the time. It just so happened that I was put on an old container ship."
Shelagh put an arm round her husband's middle. She wondered whether she was beginning to understand the purpose of the trip, but did not feel confident enough to say anything to him yet.
"Am I allowed to ask now where this boat is heading?"
Patrick smiled.
"We are heading for the French port town of Le Havre, and don't ask why we are heading there and not any other French port," he said grinning, anticipating his wife's next question, "you'll find out tomorrow."
"I wasn't going to," Shelagh replied, "not after the abuse I got from you two earlier!"
Patrick put his both his arms round his wife, drawing her closer to him. He kissed her cheeks and then her lips.
"Thank you," he said, his voice muffled slightly, "for being the most wonderful, wonderful woman in the entire world. I love you more than I can possibly describe."
"Oh Patrick, I love you too, and will support you, through anything, forever"
"I know you will."
They broke their embrace, strolled another lap of the deck, hand-in-hand, and then returned to the cabin. In the dark, trying not to wake the children, they found their night things and got ready for bed. Whilst Patrick was brushing his teeth, Shelagh settled herself into the other bottom bunk and snuggled under the covers. Patrick emerged and, seeing where Shelagh had put herself, wandered over, and whispered in her ear.
"Is there any room in there for a little one?"
"Yes," she replied, "there is room for the little one who is already in it, go and find your own bunk," she teased.
Patrick pulled a sad face, his bottom lip drooping, his eyes cast down.
"There is not enough room for two of us," Shelagh whispered, "and anyway, can you really be quiet enough to not wake the children who are, ooh, um, four feet away?"
"You saucy little…" Patrick began.
Shelagh shushed him. "I'm sure you can manage for one night. Go to sleep. Besides, we have an adventure to go on. We can't be tired for it, can we?"
With a reluctant "humph" Patrick kissed her goodnight and climbed into the fourth bunk, and he was convinced that he heard Shelagh giggling to herself in the darkness.
The next morning, after they had washed, dressed and re-packed the rucksacks, they found the ship's canteen. Just as they had finished polishing off a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea each, Timothy looked out the window and squeaked.
"I can see land!"
He then turned to Patrick.
"Dad, which land can I see?"
"You can see the north coast of Normandy son, which is a region of northern France."
"Where William the Conqueror came from?"
"The very same! And can you see those buildings?"
"Yes."
"That is a place called Le Havre, and that is the next stop on our adventure. Speaking of which, we better start heading down to the car, we don't want to be taken back to Southampton do we?"
"No we don't," Shelagh replied, "we want to continue on our journey."