Doina Cornell - Child of the Sea

Doina Cornell

To Nera and Dan

Aventura was a 36 foot (11 metre) long ketch called a Trintella III by her Dutch designer. She was a ketch because she had two masts. The fiberglass hull was built in 1974 by a boatyard but my father fitted out the hull himself, building the furniture, installing the Perkins engine and all the other equipment.

I wasnt worried about my first day at school. After all, Id been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. I hadnt been to school for seven years, not properly anyway. I was fourteen now and I was ready.

Excited? Mum asked and squeezed my hand. I didnt need to answer.

The school was a modern building block with hundreds of windows. We walked past the playground where a crowd was milling about, kicking balls, chatting and laughing. A bell rang like an alarm and there was a great rush as everyone moved towards the school entrance.

Mum left my brother and I at the headmasters office.

Bye, she said, giving me a little wave. Good luck.

A girl was told to show me to my form for register. She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and noisily blew her nose.

Hi. I grinned.

This way, she said without looking at me.

Whats your name? I asked as we climbed the stairs but there were crowds going up with us and I guess she didnt hear. On the top floor she pointed to a door.

Thanks, I said, but she had already gone.

The classroom was filling up as people came in and sat down. My new form teacher waved me to a seat.

This is Doina, shes starting today, he said cheerily.

I smiled at him, and then looked around the class, still smiling. Rows of faces, pale above their red uniforms, stared at me. No one smiled back.

I couldnt help but remember the bright smiles of children who lived on islands on the other side of the world. Welcoming me to their school, even if it was just a visit for a day. And now, here, a few miles from where I was born, Id assumed it would be the same. In fact, Id assumed it would be far, far better.

A blonde girl sitting at a desk in front of me leaned towards her friend and whispered, loud enough so I could hear, What does she look like?

I said nothing and smoothed down the red jumper my grandmother had knitted for me. Only yesterday Id stood proudly in the sunshine outside Grannys house for a photo. Yesterday seemed so far away now. Even the car ride this morning, when my heart beat fast and sweet with excitement, seemed very far away.

A thin smile hooked up the side of the blonde girls mouth. Maybe shes a Paki.

My cheeks smarted like Id been slapped, and my smile felt stiff and painted. Despite the red uniforms, the outside world seemed to be switching to black and white. Inside me was a riot of colour. Seven years of great memories. Could I hang on to those, to get me through? Because even now, I was sure it would get better. I knew it would.

For two years the blonde girl and her friends called me Paki. Jana of the Jungle. Go back to Bongo Bongo Land, they said. Where you came from.

Well, if I went back anywhere, it wouldnt be to the land. Id go back to the sea.

I remembered so vividly the first time I saw the boat. I remembered the smells and the feel of that day.

Children, we have something to show you, my parents had said.

What is it? we wanted to know, but they wouldnt say. We drove from our house through southeast London and across the river Thames.

Where are we going?

To the Royal Albert Dock.

All around us stretched wastelands and abandoned buildings. Nothing very Royal at all. Dad stopped the car between a huge metal shed and an old dock that led to the Thames. There was rubbish piled everywhere, spilling out of disused warehouses with broken windows. The brown river water sloshed against the quay and smelled of rot and mud.

There she is, Dad said, pointing towards a large white shape inside the shed. Our new boat.

I saw now that the shape was a smooth hull. It looked a bit like my brothers toy boat. Only this boat didnt have any masts or sails.

Or any cabins. Or even any floors. Inside was an open space that was difficult to walk on as it was pointed at the bottom, following the shape of the keel. There was a strong smell like glue that made me want to sneeze. Everything was made of a yellowy-green material out of which stuck tiny fibres. When I touched them my hands began to itch.

Fibreglass, Dad explained. Thats what its made of. Very strong.

Couldnt we have got a proper boat? I asked.

We could only afford the hull, said Mum, trying to stand upright.

Ill do all the rest, he added. Its my dream. Were going sailing.

* * *

So Ivan and I spent our weekends at the Docks while Dad worked on the boat. Once, this place had been alive with ships loading and unloading cargo from all over the world. Now there were only ruined warehouses, and a few people like Dad, building their boats and following their dreams. We clambered over the hills of rubbish and dragged out bits of broken furniture to make into dens. Once we found a dead cat, all swollen with its legs sticking out. Ivan poked it with a stick and then we ran away laughing.

Soon the boat had a floor, and wooden bulkheads dividing it into cabins. So many things were needed: masts and sails, ropes and winches. Ivan was always asking, whats this? whats that? All that interested me was when the boat would be ready. But months passed and there was still a lot to be done.

We were sent to stay with Granny in Cornwall for a month. Mum had to finish her teacher training course.

Im going to be teaching you, she explained, when we go sailing.

So we wont go to our school anymore?

Yes, thats right.

I wasnt sure I wanted to leave my friends behind. And I liked school. But I didnt mind going to Grannys. She made cakes for tea and we walked along the beach with her dog. I went to the village school and Ivan went to the playgroup and we made a few friends.

When we returned to London Mum said, Ive a job for you.

I frowned. I didnt really want a job.

Dont look like that, she added sharply. Its a nice job! The boat is going to be launched soon, and you can say a little speech.

Why do I have to say a speech?

Because boats are like people and have to be christened. Marianne will be coming over for the summer holidays and she can help you.

Marianne was my 12 year old cousin. She seemed so grown up and elegant with her dark curly hair and neat clothes. My clothes started off clean but always ended up scruffy and food-stained, and I never remembered to brush my hair.

This is what you will say. Marianne handed me a slip of paper. Youll say it in English and I will say it in Romanian. Shall we practise?

On the launch day she and I dressed in matching white Romanian blouses, embroidered with red and black and gold thread.

You both look lovely, said Mum.