I was five years old when my mum and I finally arrived in Mallorca. My dad had already been on the island for three months, living on Brionie, the family yacht, and what I imagined was a quiet, lonely existence—waiting for us to join him. I missed him terribly.
My earliest memory of our reunion is a sunny afternoon in Brionie’s salon. My dad had pulled out his old 8-track player and put on a Bob Newhart tape. We sat together, listening to Bob’s dry, deadpan delivery, laughing in unison.
Well—he laughed because he understood the jokes. I laughed because he was laughing. And that was good enough for me. I couldn’t begin to grasp Bob Newhart’s humour at five years old, but it’s funny how things stick—because I love it now.
After a while, my dad stood up and smiled. “Come with me,” he said, leading me down the narrow stairs into Brionie’s master cabin. He went to his stash, hidden deep within the ship, rummaged for a moment, and then turned to me, holding something in his hand.
It was a small gold coin, about the size of a penny. A Quarter Eagle.
“This is for you,” he said, placing it in my palm.
I looked at it, a little confused. I’d been hoping for something exciting—a fishing rod, maybe a toy—but this felt… serious. It was unlike any currency I’d ever seen before—weightier, richer, superior in every way.
I thanked him and tucked it into my pocket, still unsure what it all meant.
Looking back now, I know exactly what it meant.
It wasn’t just a gift. It was a symbolic olive branch. A token of his guilt and misplaced affection.
Because during those three months on Brionie, my dad hadn’t been living a quiet, monastic life at all. He had befriended Kirsten and Steen Brabrand, a young Danish couple twenty years his junior. And Kirsten—well, let’s just say she wasn’t just a friend.
But back then, I was blissfully unaware. In that moment, holding my gold coin, everything felt right. My dad was here. We were together. And for that fleeting instant, life felt back on track.
Oh, and by the way—I still have that coin.
Fifty-two years later.