The naming of the yacht

Hugh had finally got his boat.

It had been many years of dropping hints, and then being more explicit about his desire for sea adventures, and trying to justify the budget, and getting the household numbers to tell the story he wanted told.

Concessions were made along the way, to try and appease Bernadette. She’d had the emerald pendant. And the Prada bag. He had put his foot down though when the time-share on the apartment in Marbella was mentioned. He hated Spain. He hated heat. He hated tapas. He liked Dublin Bay, and mist, and square meals, preferably with spuds and bacon, a reminder of his more humble beginnings, in rural County Sligo, sixty five years ago.

But Bernadette had put her own foot down too, whenever the boat was mentioned.
What good would it be to her? She got nauseated during the short cruise on Lake Leman two years ago.

Hugh tried to explain to her that she would not actually have to go sailing on it (he firmly hoped so). That it was a question of status. That they’d be the first ones on their street to own a yacht.
She wouldn’t cave in.

He spent more and more time alone in the man-cave at the far end of their decent sized suburban back garden, getting high on the smell of fresh wood shavings, as he immersed himself into his wood-turning projects.
But he was still within easy reach. His wife’s shrill voice could still reach him there. He wanted to put more distance between himself and the woman once known as Bernie. He wanted several million cubic meters of icy cold Irish Sea water as a buffer between him and Bernadette.

Then Josephine four houses down from them got the 1.2 carat solitaire ring for her sixtieth birthday. That was it. The hatchet had well and truly been dug up. Big time. Who did this flashy-Josie think she was, with her vulgar bit of bling, flashing the ring nonchalantly when playing bridge with the girls on Tuesday evening. Bernadette was livid. This nouveau-richo floosie would not show her up.

They’d get a yacht. They would be the first ones on the street to own a yacht. Hugh could get his bloody boat.

There was but one condition.

He would have to name the vessel after her.