Belinda Brightstar

‘Belinda Brightstar’s for sale,’ Bernie said. He’d just returned from his morning walk and entered the kitchen. Frodo, his recently acquired pet dog, waddled in beside his master, looking somewhat aloof as if he had other options but was sticking around to see if things improved.

‘What?’ Marg yelled from the laundry. She’d started the washing machine, a noisy old thing on its last legs.

‘We should go look for a new machine, Bernie.’

‘Belinda Brightstar is for sale.’

‘Okay?’ Marg said, but looked perplexed. ‘Is she a Jack Russell too?’

‘I’m talking about that little wooden sailing boat. Been tied up in the harbour for years. I’ve mentioned it practically every time we walk to the harbour. It’s up for sale, and I’m going to make an offer.’

‘Oh, yes. But Bernie, are you sure you want to do that?’

Bernie loved Marg, but sometimes they weren’t on the same wavelength.

He was well over Flip’s death. The passing of his beloved pet had hit him hard, and he moped around for weeks until his friend, Reg, took him out sailing. He returned home with an interest in boats and the siren song of the sea. Oh dear, thought Marg. The following day, and with some urgency, Marg went to the pound and rescued Frodo. Now they had another Jack Russell.

Character-wise, Frodo wasn’t anything like Flip.

In the laundry, Frodo fixed Marg with his strange expression of brooding expectation, switching his gaze from her to Bernie and then back to Marg. The creature seemed to be in a state of perpetual anticipation, with his beady eyes and wagging tail. It wasn’t always food Frodo wanted. Bernie imagined one day he’d find out what it was. Frodo didn’t like being alone, yet didn’t seem to find human company appealing either.

The following day, Bernie walked down to the harbour for a final look at the boat before making an offer. He took Frodo, who, along with most other activities, was reluctant to be involved. The dog pulled back on its leash several times, and Bernie had to give it a yank. Frodo yelped in protest and then dawdled before stopping again. More yanks ensued, prompting passersby to give Bernie sour looks as if he were a stupid pet sadist. Flip had never carried on like Frodo.

As compliant as the day was long was poor departed Flip.

‘For Christ’s sake,’ Bernie yelled and yanked.

‘Yelp!’

‘Well, what did you expect?’ Bernie stood looking down at his reluctant companion.

Frodo shivered his compact little body and decided to trot along with surly forbearance.

‘That’s better. Perhaps I won’t get that Rottweiler for you as a playmate after all,’ Bernie mumbled. Frodo sneezed in reply.

Belinda Brightstar swayed indolently at her mooring, dwarfed by the domineering cruisers and elegant sailboats populating the marina. One corner of the for-sale sign stuck to the cabin’s roof had lifted and flapped in the breeze. Bernie typed the mobile number into his phone weeks ago.

This time, he had company.

A boy around fourteen stood beside a little girl and a woman, all wearing sunhats. The woman, plump and pleasant-looking, seemed too young to be the mother of a teenager. Perhaps she was a nanny.

They were also admiring the boat. The boy knelt and gave Frodo a solid rub behind the ears, and the dog responded with several wrist licks. A show of affection Bernie himself had not been granted. Bloody hell, Bernie silently grumbled.

The woman exchanged a smile with Bernie. ‘He is a friendly puppy.’

Bernie nodded without commitment.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Frodo,’ Bernie replied.

When the boy stopped petting, Frodo nudged the boy’s hand for more. Bernie carefully watched the boy’s technique.

‘From the book, Tim,’ the woman said.

‘Yeah, Frodo!’ Tim gave him another scratch behind his ears. ‘Hey Karen, I reckon he looks a bit like a hobbit.’

The little girl, Karen, knelt beside the boy and ran her hands along the dog’s flank. She also received licks of appreciation.

Bernie moved closer to the jetty’s edge to further admire Belinda Brightstar. Pulling away from the affectionate children, Frodo backed up until behind Bernie’s legs. He made a whimpering sound.

‘What’s wrong with Frodo?’ Karen asked Bernie.

‘Not sure. I guess he doesn’t like the water.’ They all returned their attention to the boat. Bernie was familiar with the sucking sound, the ticking and jangling of its rigging as the vessel rocked in the water. This murmuring beckoned to him, the secret music of sailing, asking no more than to have its sails unfurled and to be set adrift.

‘Who was Belinda Brightstar, Celia?’ Karen asked.

Both Karen and Tim looked at the woman as though accustomed to her powers of enlightenment. After a pause, the woman spoke.

‘Well, I believe the man who owned it was once in love with a person named Belinda. He was a pet groomer, and she was a beautiful and petite ballerina much beloved by everyone in the world.’ The woman, Celia, glanced at Bernie with a wink.

Bernie knew nothing about the boat except for his daily, longing appraisal. Interested in what Celia had to offer on the subject, he moved closer to the little group.

‘Her name was Belinda Brightstar—like the boat?’ The little girl, Karen, asked.

‘Yes, and the man’s name was Joe Keats, and he bought the boat, which at that time had a different name, now forgotten. The previous owner was a sailor who could no longer sail after losing one of his legs to a shark. So, Joe Keats renamed the boat and sailed it past Belinda Brightstar’s elegant house overlooking the bay as she sunbathed on her lawn chair.’

‘So, what happened to Joe Kits?’

‘Look there, Karen, see how the sun reflects off the bay? It is golden yellow, right?’

‘Yes,’ Karen said. She looked out towards the harbour and its rocky breakwater, her face lit with a smile.

Following Karen’s wide-eyed appraisal, Bernie also noted the water’s transformation into a bright mass of rippling, golden-threaded ribbons, a phenomenon he had never before noticed.

‘Well, Belinda’s hair was golden as the sun’s reflection on the bay, and Joe Keats, not Kits, Karen, would fly yellow pennants along the length of Belinda’s sails to attract its namesake’s attention.’

‘But what did Belinda Brightstar do?’

‘She never once noticed Joe in his beautiful little boat. After he’d finished his work for the day, he sailed up and down, but Belinda just worked on her tan and read trashy gossip magazines, oblivious to Joe and his boat.’

‘Poor Joe,’ Karen said.

Celia thought for a moment. ‘Yes, poor Joe. But listen, a crucial fact had escaped his attention: you must never change the name of a boat, as it will bring you bad luck for the rest of your days.’

‘Really?’ Karen said, looking to the boy for confirmation.

‘Yeah, you bet,’ the boy said, shrugging. ‘I think Celia nailed it.’

‘But what happened to Joe and Belinda?’ Karen said.

‘Every kind of tragedy you can imagine occurred throughout Joe Keats’ life, and all the while, no one saw fit to tell him about changing the names of boats. He eventually married a woman he was not in love with. She was not as pretty as Belinda Brightstar, but she was much more pleasant and loved Joe with all her heart. Unfortunately, he failed to see what a great gift he had in the love of his wife.’

She gave birth to a gorgeous boy. As we know, babies are usually not very pretty. But then she became ill. Joe cared for his wife through a long illness until she finally passed away.’

‘But what was she sick from?’ Karen asked.

‘Ahh—skin cancer…which is why you kids must always wear your hats outdoors.’

‘Oh.’ Karen reached up to pat hers down.

‘Anyway, during all this time, Joe Keats still yearned for Belinda Brightstar.’

‘So, did she fall in love with him after all?’

‘No, though she sought his expertise once. Since he was the only pet groomer in town, she commanded his presence to attend to her sphinx cat. She didn’t even look at Joe, simply pointing at the cat lolling on the back deck. She sipped on her pina colada and resumed sunbathing and reading trashy magazines. It was as if Joe wasn’t there.’

‘What’s a finks cat?’ Karen asked.

‘It’s a hideously ugly cat with no hair…and special needs,’ Celia answered.

‘How did Joe Keats groom a hairless cat?’ Tim asked.

Bernie noted the boy had a cheeky grin, but the same question had formed in his mind.

‘It’s a mystery Joe took to his grave,’ was Celia’s answer. ‘A trade secret that no groomer must ever divulge.’

‘Celia, go on.’ Karen pleaded. ‘What happened next?’

At this point, even Frodo had emerged from behind Bernie’s legs and appeared to be listening to Celia, his wiry little head tilted to one side. She had a soft, melodious voice, a skilful storyteller.

‘Ah…now, let’s see.’ Celia collected her thoughts. ‘Now, as it happened, the next part is even more shocking. Belinda Brightstar, the world-famous ballerina, also died of skin cancer. The whole planet went into mourning, even though she was not known to be a nice person.’

Celia knew to pause while all present took in the shocking news. Frodo, ears cocked, allowed himself one yelp and resumed his position behind Bernie, who leaned in, watching the lolling boat closely as though fearful it might slip its mooring. Celia continued.

‘And, before you ask, Belinda’s neighbour, a strange man who suffered from advanced curiosity, took care of the sphinx and met its special needs.’

‘Did the sfinks cat—’

‘That’s a story for another time, Karen. Anyway, during these sad events, Joe Keats’ beautiful son, whose name was Beau, grew up to become even more handsome but also outrageously conceited. His behaviour towards his father was awful all of the time.’

‘What is con-seated?’ Karen asked.

‘He was, like, totally into himself,’ Tim offered.

‘Yes, he loved himself more than anyone else,’ added Celia. ‘After his mother died, he moved to California, changed his name to Beau du Pont and became a famous movie star. He was as shallow as that puddle there.’ Celia pointed at a hollow in the bitumen. He never sent a penny back home to his poor father, whose pet grooming business went bankrupt.

‘After this, many luckless events occurred, but Joe Keats, still besotted with the now-deceased Belinda Brightstar, never sailed the boat again. He descended into a terrible state of mourning and failed to eat or drink. It was not long before he, too, passed away. Doctors were astonished to find that the cause of death was not starvation, as they expected, but a broken heart. He was the first person in history to do so, but from then on, many broken hearts have littered the world.’

‘But what about the con-seated boy?’

‘Beau has returned to sell the boat,’ Celia said.

‘Oh, it’s such a sad, pretty boat. I wish we could buy it,’ Karen said. ‘We could find out its old name and paint it back on.’

‘Nah, probably not,’ Tim said.

‘Beau might know. We could ask him.’

‘Once you rename a boat, it is irreversible; the damage is done,’ Celia said. ‘In any case, the incredibly handsome Beau can’t be easily contacted because he hired people to protect him from adoring fans. There were so many that they created a near-impenetrable wall around him. He has a mobile phone but never answers it. When people ring it, a voice that’s not his says, “I don’t want to know you,” and then hangs up.’

‘What does impen...impen-trouble mean?’ Karen asked.

‘Thick. The wall of people is thick, thick as a brick,’ Tim said.

‘If I adored him, I could become part of the wall and then ask him to sell us Belinda Brightstar.’

‘The wall fans are very jealous of their position; they have a pecking order. They may not let you through. A little girl would have no luck at all,’ Celia said.

After politely wishing Bernie a good day, Celia, Tim and Karen started walking away, but Bernie managed to catch their last words.

‘You could go, Celia,’ Karen said.

‘I could, but he is far too handsome for me. I would not survive it.’

Back home, Bernie rang the owner’s number to enquire about Belinda Brightstar. He was trying to think of a delicate way of asking if it had belonged to the man’s father and if he was still alive. But before he could, the owner voluntarily offered some information.

‘I don’t want any loose ends. Due to a recent bereavement, I’m going to be living in America with my son for the foreseeable future—the Hollywood Hills, of all places…imagine that.’

He had a gravelly voice but seemed otherwise pleasant.

‘Has the boat ever been renamed?’ Bernie’s asked.

‘That’s an unexpected question, but no, not to my knowledge,’ the owner said. ‘I’ve only known the boat as Belinda Brightstar. I think the name comes from a poem.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Bernie replied. There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while. ‘Hello, are you still there?’

‘Actually, now that you mention it, I can’t be entirely sure about that. The man I bought it off wasn’t the boat’s original owner either.’

‘So, do you know—?’

‘I do remember the fellow, though. He was quite down in the dumps and had run into a bit of bad luck. Poor fellow lost his leg to a shark.’

This time, it was Bernie’s turn to pause.

‘Hello?’

‘Yes—I’m still here.’

‘Anyway, let me know if you want to make an offer—I’m ah…I’m open to negotiation. I feel so guilty about leaving the boat idle in the harbour without a proper captain. I’m sure you will agree that a boat’s place is out on the ocean.

After dinner that evening, Bernie and Marg sat on their balcony to share a bottle of wine. The sun had still not disappeared beyond the western horizon. In the evening light, Bernie noted how Marg’s hair still carried that golden lustre of her youth. He imagined Belinda Brightstar under full sail on the glittering, endless sea beyond the breakwater, its yellow pennants fluttering in a swift breeze.

‘So, did you make the offer on the boat, love?’ Marg asked.

‘No. I’ve had second thoughts,’ Bernie lifted his glass for a sip of wine when Frodo leapt up, gave his master’s wrist a couple of licks and settled himself in his lap.

‘Goodness, Bernie, I think you might have turned a corner with that dog.’

‘Looks that way.’ He found the sweet spot behind Frodo’s ear and gave it a good scratch. ‘How about we go buy a new washing machine tomorrow, Margie?’