Page 57 of The Cruise Club

Frozen, Carmen tried to process what had just happened. She wanted to call out and thank him, but the words didn’t come. As she rose, her gaze fell on a poster of Ruskin promoting his latest book, and with a soft smile, she whispered, ‘I won’t let you down.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

When the first light of the new day touched the horizon, a silvery glow shone over the sea as theDiamond Starcruised towards Malta. Hints of pink in a rhubarb sky cast a dawn glow on the historic limestone bastions of Valletta and the Three Cities, perched on opposite peninsulas. Passengers who’d risen early to stand on deck took in the view and gazed at Maltese fishing boats, luzzus, bobbing on the water, their vibrant colours eye-catching as the ship berthed on the harbourside. In the distance, the soft chime of church bells echoed as the city awoke and Maltese folk began their day.

Beginning her own day, Carmen hurriedly dressed. The previous evening, an argument had ensued with Betty when Carmen told her mother that she wouldn’t be available in the early mornings and had arranged for Betty to have breakfast in her room.

‘So, you want to confine me to my cabin?’ Betty raised her eyebrows and stared at Carmen with disgust. ‘I can spend time alone at home. This isn’t why I’ve come on a cruise,’ she snapped.

‘Mum, it’s only for a short while,’ Carmen pleaded. ‘I have an opportunity, and I mustn’t turn it down, and you are perfectly capable of dressing yourself.’

‘For heaven’s sake, why are you wasting your time with all that writing nonsense? This is supposed to be a holiday.’

Carmen was tempted to explain yet again why she’d come on the cruise, and that her reasons hadn’t included her mother, but Betty stiffened with indignation and, turning away, became deaf to any persuasion.

Now, as Carmen packed her laptop into a bag, she assured herself that Betty would be fine. Fernando would arrive with Betty’s breakfast at eight o’clock, and Carmen would return in time to help prepare for the day ahead. Glancing at her watch, Carmen realised she only had ten minutes to spare. With a last look at her reflection in a full-length mirror, she patted her hair into place and then hastened out of the room.

Ruskin stood on his balcony and watched the sun rise over the harbour, casting long shadows across the historic walls of Valletta. He noted the many luzzus, with their sturdy pointed bows designed to handle rough seas. Ruskin remembered the eye symbol carved into each boat, an ancient tradition rooted in Phoenician and Egyptian culture that was said to protect the boat and its crew from harm.

Arriving in Malta at dawn, he thought, felt like stepping back in time to discover a mysterious city that carries whispers of its past within its ancient walls. Ruskinhad visited the island before but still looked forward to wandering around the vibrant capital that buzzed with life and blended the old with the new.

But first, he had work to do.

Ruskin turned and stepped into the living room. His breakfast order had recently arrived, and coffee, pastries, and fruit were laid out on a table in the middle of the room.

‘A starved mind weaves no tales,’ he said as he poured coffee. ‘Feed the body and the muse will flow.’ Ruskin tore into a croissant, and as he took a bite, he heard a tentative knock on the door. Glancing at his watch, he smiled. Perfect. She was on time.

Carmen’s heart pounded as she stood outside Ruskin’s suite. Clearing her throat with a nervous cough, she raised her hand and knocked.

‘Come in,’ Ruskin said as he opened the door. He held a pastry in his hand and brushed crumbs from his lips as Carmen meekly followed. ‘Sit and eat,’ he said, waving towards the table.

Carmen did as she was told. Placing her bag down, she reached for a coffee and then began to butter a warm, doughy roll. Ruskin peeled a banana, and Carmen watched as he moved around the room, taking bites. Barefoot, wearing shorts and a polo shirt, he didn’t speak. She wondered if she should open the conversation by thanking him and assuring him that she was grateful for his time, but Ruskin was deep in thought and almost oblivious to her presence.

Carmen realised that she was hungry and felt grateful thatRuskin had laid on food. As she ate, she couldn’t help but marvel at the suite. It was on another level and far superior to accommodation in the decks below. The spacious living area was lavishly furnished, opening to an expansive sunny balcony and doors led to other rooms.

‘Creativity flows better when the writer is well fed,’ Ruskin announced a short while later. ‘Now, let’s begin.’ He pointed to a desk and nodded when Carmen sat down and took her notebook from her bag. ‘I read your book last night,’ he said, ‘it shows promise.’

Carmen jerked her head back. She was shocked that Ruskin had been online and downloadedThe Rainbow Sleuth.

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ he said, ‘I have to assess your ability.’

‘I’m impressed that you read so quickly,’ Carmen said.

Ruskin took the opposite seat. ‘Speed reading is a skill and retains the important details.’ He folded his fingers together and stared at Carmen. ‘As a debut, your novel is good, but your writing will be much better now. Think of the block you are experiencing as a locked door, and I will give you the tools to open it.’

As Carmen listened to Ruskin explain that she should get the words down, any words, and that the good stuff would come in revisions, she was mesmerised by his blue eyes and rugged handsomeness. Under the table, she squeezed her fingers into her palms, willing herself to focus.

‘Let your ideas breathe then you can worry about shaping them later,’ Ruskin said, ‘you have a unique voice, so let it speak.’ He leaned in, his eyes sharp. ‘Now a challenge, Iwant you to write for fifteen minutes. Anything, it doesn’t have to make sense.’

Ruskin stood and walked away.

Carmen was hesitant as she picked up her pen, but not wanting to annoy Ruskin, she began to write. To her surprise, after a faltering start, she thought about her reasons for writing, and words soon filled the page. When he held up his hand and told her to stop, she felt a sense of accomplishment.

‘Was that so hard?’ he asked.

‘No, but it’s mostly nonsense.’

‘Unimportant,’ Ruskin was dismissive, ‘you’ve unlocked the flow, and this is how we will start each session. This is known as the morning pages, an exercise in journaling – a technique created by Julia Cameron in her book,The Artist’s Way.’

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