A Different Direction

By Allison Hay

Shutterstock © Couple looking out to see from a cruise ship Illustration: Shutterstock

Illustration: Shutterstock

WRITTEN BY CLAIRE BUCKLE

Anna and Joe prided themselves on making their own destiny, but they hadn’t counted on what was to come…

“Oh, dear, this is not a good omen,” Anna said, looking out of the window at the torrential rain as the plane came to a halt on Jamaica’s Montego Bay runway.

“Hopefully, it’ll clear up soon,” her husband Joe replied, unfastening his seat belt. Being six-foot tall and broad shouldered, he reached up with ease and took their bags from the overhead locker, handing petite, blonde Anna hers.

Once through customs, the supposed short coach journey to the cruise ship turned into a marathon, with nose to tail traffic and roads blocked by floods. The evening’s forbidding grey sky and palm trees bending in the strong wind added to Anna’s glum mood.

Joe nudged her, grinned, and held up his phone. “Cheer up. We’ve got two hundred more Instagram followers since we left!”

“Great,” she said, but couldn’t match his enthusiasm. He wasn’t the one worried about seasickness or feeling anxious about what lay ahead.

The weather had reminded her of the ferry crossing to France a few years back, where the channel rocked and rolled and her stomach churned. She hadn’t been prepared, and was glad she’d brought motion sickness wristbands for this trip. Buck up, she told herself.

They’d talked over taking this transatlantic cruise several times before agreeing it was an opportunity they shouldn’t miss. Anna took a deep breath, vowing to be more positive.

At last, they arrived at the port and boarded the ship. They checked in at reception then took the swish mirrored lift to their cabin, a softly lit balcony room complete with a Queen-size bed.

After a bite to eat at the buffet, they agreed to call it a night.

Despite being tired, Anna lay awake listening to Joe’s steady breathing and tried not to be disconcerted by the slight rolling movement of the ship.

Joe and Anna, both forty-years-old, had been married for ten years, the last two of which they’d spent renovating a dilapidated house in rural Norfolk. There was still a lot to do. But as a surveyor and bricklayer, they made an ideal team.

Anna’s father, who ran a small building company, was winding down to retirement, and Anna was becoming more involved in running the business.

It had been Joe’s idea to create an Instagram account documenting their renovation project. Naturally, there’d been a lot of posts about bricklaying. Reclaimed yellow stocks were stacked up ready for the kitchen extension and blue engineering bricks had been used to build The Potting Shed. With its unusual hexagonal shape, eco friendly cedar shingle roof and multi-coloured mosaic floor, it had captured peoples’ imagination on social media and had received thousands of likes.

The popularity of TV programmes about house building and renovation meant Anna and Joe had expected some interest, but what surprised them was the large following they’d garnered. This led to them being featured on a podcast, which then led to the invitation to give talks on the cruise ship.

Anna dozed fitfully, remembering when they first viewed the property. The estate agent had given them the key, and they’d wandered from one empty room to another.

“I expect the windows will need new sash cords,” Anna had said, struggling and failing to open any in the lounge overlooking the wild garden.

“And these walls…” Joe had grimaced as he ran a hand over the dated, textured finish. “It’s a lot to take on.”

Anna had sensed his reluctance. “But it’s ten minutes from the beach and has a wrap around garden,” she’d said.

“Jungle more like,” Joe had replied.

“It is a lot, but I… we… need a project.”

“I know,” he had said softly and wrapped her in his arms.

She rested her head on his chest. The material of his well-worn maroon hoodie felt soft against her cheek and smelled faintly of his sandalwood cologne.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

Suddenly, a horrible sensation came over her. She felt an ache in her throat and couldn’t answer. Then, she jolted awake with her heart pounding. She took a moment to realise where she was, then moved across the vast bed to cuddle up to Joe. Against the warmth of his back, the ache in her throat subsided, and she closed her eyes.

After breakfast, Anna and Joe sat with Damon, the cruise director, in The Coffee Emporium.

“So,” he said, his wide smile exposing teeth as dazzling as his crisp white shirt, “How does eleven o’clock sound? Our tech guy will set you up in the theatre with a lectern and screen for your slides.

“Sounds good,” Anna said.

“Excellent,” Damon said and chatted about how relieved he was that the weather had improved.

Anna agreed and sipped her coffee, hoping to dispel the slight nausea. Was she the only one who could sense the ship moving? She was glad they’d have a day in Antigua tomorrow, but after that there’d be six sea days when the talks about the renovation would take place. Maybe by then she’d have her sea legs.

“I thought you’d like to meet the other speakers, so I arranged a get together this afternoon on the pool deck,” Damon said.

“That’ll be nice,” Joe replied.

“Super! We have Graham, an astrologer, who’s offered to do your horoscopes, and Suzette, a wine expert.”

Anna smiled, although one thing she didn’t want done was her horoscope.

In Antigua, they went on an excursion to Nelson’s Dockyard, in a pretty natural harbour where Horatio Nelson lived in the late 1700s. Although Anna didn’t like the free rum punch that was handed out in the bar, Joe happily drank her share.

Afterwards, back in the capital St John’s, they spent a pleasant couple of hours mooching around, admiring the brightly painted buildings, and went shopping for souvenirs.

On board for dinner, they sat with Graham and Suzette, who Damon had introduced the previous afternoon.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to prepare your horoscope?” Graham said as he tucked into his duck with a redcurrant jus.

I promise no future predictions if that’s the worry – merely guidance.

Anna bristled. She and Joe had already politely declined his offer when they’d met yesterday.

“We prefer to guide our own destiny, but thanks anyway,” Joe said good-naturedly.

“There’s bound to be people at the talks wanting theirs done,” Anna added, laying her knife and fork side by side on her unfinished meal and adjusting her sea sickness bands.

She and Joe had grasped hold of a different destiny than the one they’d imagined when they first got together, and they were running with it.

To Anna’s surprise, Suzette was guzzling the free table wine rather than agreeing to share a bottle of what Graham called the “decent stuff”.

Graham lifted his glass. “Here’s to success for all of us. I have to admit I’ve given talks to one man and his dog before now, but I’m always apprehensive about how many people will turn up.”

Suzette, her cheeks flushed, raised her glass. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that problem.” She giggled. “Probably because I always offer free tasting.”

Anna smiled at Graham and raised her fizzy lime mocktail. She realised she’d misjudged him. He merely wanted to promote his talks, and she was relieved to find out she wasn’t the only one feeling anxious about speaking in front of an audience. She’d done nothing like it before and although Joe would play a small part in the presentations, it was Anna who’d be doing the lion’s share.

“They’ll want the person with the most expertise,” Joe had said. “And if we take up the offer, we’ll get publicity about the project and a free holiday to boot.”

It had been years since they’d been away and although there’d be work involved with the presentations, most of the time would be their own to relax.

The following day, as she waited in the wings to go onto the stage, Anna peeked at the audience. She guessed there must be a couple of hundred people and she hoped Graham got a good crowd too. Her heart raced, and she made an unnecessary adjustment to her head mic – more freedom to move around, Damon had told her. Taking a deep breath, she walked onto the stage and put her notes on the lectern.

“Hi everyone.” She gave a little wave at the applause and a nervous laugh. “Thank you.” She swallowed. “I’m Anna and if you’re one of our followers on social media, you’ll know that my husband, Joe,” she gestured at Joe, seated in the front row, “and I are renovating our house.”

Her mouth felt dry, and she took a sip of water. She pressed the clicker and a photo of the property, as it was when they first bought it, filled the screen behind her. Anna turned and stared at the ramshackle house with missing roof tiles, peeling black paint on the front door, and tangled weeds covering the cracked steps.

She didn’t want to think about the dank stench that assaulted them when they stepped inside.

She turned back to face the audience and took a breath. “Since the age of eighteen, I’ve been a bricklayer,” she said.

There were a few gasps.

“I can understand it might surprise some of you because there aren’t many women in the trade. One reason Joe and I wanted to share our story on Instagram was to encourage more women to consider a career in construction. The other day I saw a sign on a van saying ‘hire a husband – property maintenance.’ Well, it brought home to me how the building trade is considered by many to be a male domain. Yet how many husbands here would struggle to put up a shelf?”

Several audience members grinned and nodded. Anna stepped out from behind the lectern. “As you can see, being fit and strong enough for this trade doesn’t necessarily mean being big and muscular. Over the years, working with tradesmen and other women, I’ve picked up other skills, such as plumbing and carpentry.”

As the talk continued, Anna’s confidence grew, and she rarely referred to her notes. She clicked through the slides and explained about measuring, costing, cutting bricks and mixing mortar, while using the construction of the now infamous Potting Shed as an example.

After the Q&A at the end of the talk, in which one female teenager called her “inspirational”, she was looking forward to the following day’s session. She thanked everyone and explained that Joe would give a talk on the final day, since he’d spent hours on the computer, planning the home using 3D software.

It wasn’t until she got back to the cabin that the queasiness began. “I don’t think I can face lunch,” she said to Joe.

He frowned. “Shall I get some seasickness tablets from the shop?”

She nodded. “Please. I felt OK on stage but now…” she shook her head.

Joe poured her a glass of water, and she took a tentative sip.

“Get some air and look at the horizon,” he said, sliding open the balcony door.

She did as he said and stood, grasping the handrail, trying to concentrate on the far distance. The sea was deep navy, the sky was cloudless, and the sun warmed her skin. She closed her eyes, opening them only moments later to run to the bathroom, reaching it just in time.

“Maybe it’s one of those cruise ship bugs you hear about,” Joe said, when he arrived back at the cabin and found Anna lying on the bed. He sat beside her and put a hand on her forehead. “You’re flushed, but you don’t have a fever.” He handed her the pack of tablets and she sat up slowly.

“I’m not surprised I’m flushed. It was hot outside and I’ve been sick,” she snapped, and then blew out her cheeks. “Sorry. But I’ve got to be OK. I’m contracted for five more talks.”

“Which you can’t do if you’re not well.”

“But they’ll want to know all about how I’m going to build the kitchen extension,” she said. “ The whole point was for a female bricklayer to do the presentations. It was how the company advertised it on the website.”

Anna opened the packet of tablets and shook out the contents. The folded instructions dropped onto the bed along with a strip of capsules. “I hope I can take them on an empty stomach,” she said, reading the printed sheet of precautions.

Then giving a little gasp.

“What’s the matter?” Joe asked. “You’ve suddenly gone pale.”

Anna grabbed her diary from the bedside table and flicked back through the pages. She bit her bottom lip.

“Not now, surely,” she mumbled and looked at Joe, who frowned.

“What is it?” he said.

“I’m late, Joe.”

He looked bewildered. “For what?”

Joe, do I need to hammer it home? It says to check with a doctor before taking these if you might be –

“Pregnant?” he whispered, as though he was frightened to say the word out loud. He shook his head. “But we know you get motion sickness.”

“True, but I’m also a month late.”

For years she’d lived with the disappointment, but since they’d bought the house, she’d immersed herself in the renovation and the responsibility of getting to grips with her dad’s business. There’d been so much going on recently she hadn’t thought to check dates

Then another thought struck.

“Perhaps it’s something to do with my age,” she said, deflated.

“I doubt it. There haven’t been any signs. Hot flushes, that sort of thing?”

She shook her head.

“There’s only one way to find out for certain. We need to get you down to the medical centre and see if they’ve got a pregnancy test.”

Tightness spread across her upper back, a familiar tension triggered when talking things over with doctors. They’d had tests, been told there was nothing wrong even though they’d never been able to get pregnant. It was too farfetched to believe she could be pregnant now at forty. What if nature was playing a trick on her? What if she was pregnant and felt sick like this all the way through?

What ifs swirled inside her head, like dark clouds blocking a ray of hope. “The house is only just habitable for us, Joe, and if I’m not well, the kitchen won’t get built. We can’t afford –”

“Stop,” Joe said. He gently cupped her face in his hands, and Anna began to relax.

“We’ll sort it out once we know. And you’re not too old. Lots of women have healthy babies at your age. Besides, if there were complications, we’d tackle them together.” He pulled her in for a hug and her heart pounded in time with his.

She inhaled the scent of his sandalwood cologne, which she’d always loved.

She reminded herself she was fit and strong. A few days previously, she’d been moving kitchen stocks in a wheelbarrow. The young woman in the audience had called her inspirational. There was the probability that the sickness would subside and she’d be able to do some of the less strenuous jobs. Her father would help them out even though she’d resisted any previous offers from him, wanting, or rather needing, to have an all-encompassing project. Most important of all, she’d have Joe beside her.

“So, shall I ring now and ask if we can see the doctor?” Joe said.

“I’ll do it.” Anna moved away and smiled at him.

Those dark clouds parted and, full of hope, she picked up the phone.